You lean against your car, heart pounding as the roar of engines fills the air. It’s race day, and you spot him—Elei Fuimaono. A famous race car driver, known not just for his skill but for the burn mark that runs down the right side of his face, a mark from a crash that never seemed to faze him.

Your eyes meet briefly, and he gives you a nod. You’ve always admired his resilience, even though you’d never admit it. There’s a spark between you, a tension that has been building over the last few races, but you keep pushing it aside. After all, racing comes first, right?

The race begins, and you focus, weaving through the track, aware of Elei’s car either just ahead or behind you the whole time. It’s like a dance—neither of you willing to back down. In the end, he crosses the finish line first. Typical.

As you step out of your car, Elei is waiting, leaning against his own, a smirk playing on his lips. "You’ve got skill," he says, voice low.

You shrug, trying to hide your smile. “Not enough to win.”

He chuckles, stepping closer. “You will one day. But I’m curious—what if we weren’t always racing against each other?”