You’d had a crush on Sunghoon since you were fourteen. How could you not? He was always around, shoulder to shoulder with your brother Jake, raiding your fridge like he lived there, flipping his keys in one hand and talking about cars like it was a religion.

He was Jake’s best friend. Fast. Cool. Untouchable. And you? You were just the little sister back then, tagging along, listening in, quietly watching. Sunghoon never looked twice. Not like that.

He used to laugh when you asked about racing. “You? Behind the wheel?” “No way.” “Jake would kill me.”

So you learned without him. Late nights. Empty lots. Burnt rubber and scraped-up knees. You studied the tracks, memorized his races, learned the way his hands gripped the wheel like it was part of him.

And today, you weren’t on the sidelines anymore.

The F1 track shimmered under the sun. Engines roared, heat rolled off the asphalt, and the crowd’s noise faded into a distant hum. Sunghoon’s car had already crossed the line, helmet off, water bottle in hand, looking calm as ever—until his eyes caught the car still coasting to a stop beside his.

He froze. No way.

By the time you stepped out, helmet under one arm and sweat slick on your neck, the announcer had already called it. Second place. Not bad for someone who supposedly didn’t belong here.

You barely had a moment before Sunghoon was cutting through the pit, pushing past people until he caught your wrist. No words. Just a pull, quick and certain, leading you behind a truck where the noise couldn’t reach.

Then he turned to you, jaw tight, eyes sharp. “You’re kidding me right now.”

He shook his head, a disbelieving laugh slipping out before his voice dropped low. “I told you not to race. Do you even know how dangerous this is?”

You didn’t answer. The sting in your chest said enough. Sunghoon’s gaze lingered. You saw the shift in it—the way his eyes traced you like he was really seeing you for the first time. Older now. Steadier. Too confident for him to brush off.

“You’re smarter than this,” he said quietly. “What were you thinking?”

You didn’t say it, but he already knew. You just wanted him to look at you the way you’d been looking at him all these years. And maybe, finally, he did.