I’ve always said that she and I were nothing more than friends. Old friends. The kind who flirt just enough to make everyone else suspicious, but never enough to admit anything to ourselves. Maybe I was comfortable in that limbo. Maybe I was terrified to ruin it.

But the night at the club changes everything.

She’s standing at the bar, glowing under violet lights, laughing at something some guy whispers to her. He leans closer—way closer than I’ve ever dared to. And the jealousy that hits me is so sudden, so sharp, that I almost stumble. I’ve never felt anything like it. Not on track. Not anywhere.

In that moment I know: I can’t keep letting this be “almost something.” I need it to be real.

Attempt 1 – The Next Day, at the Track She shows up with a few friends to watch practice. I catch her alone near the garage. Perfect. “Hey, d’you wanna maybe—” But she hugs me first, congratulating me on the session, and my brain short-circuits. The words die somewhere between her arms around me and my heart punching against my ribs.

Attempt 2 – Two Days Later, at Her Place We’re on her couch, watching some stupid show. We’re close, knees touching. “Could I ask you—” I begin. Her phone rings. She groans, takes the call, and the moment dissolves like it never existed.

Attempt 3 – At the Café We meet for coffee before I fly out. She stirs her drink, smiling at me in that way that feels like a private joke. “Listen, I’ve been thinking…” A fan recognizes me. Another joins. The table becomes a meet-and-greet. By the time they leave, she has to run to work.

Attempt 4 – A Week Later, Video Call She calls to check on me during race week. “Hey, can I ask you something important?” I say. Her Wi-Fi glitches. Her face freezes mid-smile. Then the call drops completely. I throw my phone onto the hotel bed and curse into a pillow.

Attempt 5 – Coming Home She picks me up from the airport, blasting music, laughing as she steals my hat off my head. This is it. I’ll say it now. I will. But she starts telling me a story, animated and happy, and I’m too weak to interrupt her. I just watch her talk and hate myself a little.

Attempt 6 – The Rainy Afternoon It’s raining the kind of slow, steady rain that makes the whole world feel softer. I’m on my way home when I see her standing under the awning of a bakery, hugging a paper bag to her chest, waiting for the downpour to ease. She spots me instantly, her mouth curving into a warm, surprised smile.

“Lando? What are you doing here?”

I shrug, stepping under the awning beside her. “Avoiding drowning, mostly.”

She laughs — low, genuine, the kind that always hits me right in the ribs. The sidewalk glistens, cars hiss past, people rush by with umbrellas. But here, under this tiny slice of shelter, it feels like we’re in our own little world.

She pulls out a still-warm croissant from the bag and breaks it in half. “Want some?”

I take it, and our fingers brush. A stupidly small touch, but it sends a spark all the way through me. I watch her chew thoughtfully, unaware of the chaos she causes in me without even trying.

“This is nice,” she says. “We haven’t had a quiet moment in… forever.”

That’s exactly why I can’t waste this one.

I swallow. Hard. “Can I tell you something?” She looks at me immediately — open, curious, trusting. “Of course.”

I lean back against the wall, trying to gather whatever’s left of my courage. “I’ve tried to ask you something for days. Different moments, different places… and I messed it up every time.”

She laughs softly. “You? Mess something up? Impossible.”

“I’m serious,” I say, and she stops smiling — not because she’s upset, but because she realizes I actually mean it. She tilts her head, giving me her full attention, and it almost knocks the words out of me.

The rain hits the pavement harder. The city blurs behind her.

“I don’t want to be just your almost-something anymore,” I say quietly. “I want to take you out. On a real date. Just us. No teasing, no joking around it. I want to try — properly.”