The race was brutal, the kind of neck-and-neck finish that left your veins burning with adrenaline. But it wasn’t the near-win that had you shaking—it was him. Always him.

You ripped your helmet off and stormed into the paddock, only to find Lando leaning casually against the barrier, grinning like he owned the place.

“Nice try,” he drawled. “Almost looked like you belonged out there.”

You spun on him, fury blazing. “You nearly shoved me into the wall, you arrogant prick!”

His grin sharpened. “What, upset I didn’t let you have it? That I didn’t roll over so you could finally feel good about yourself?”

“Feel good?” you barked a bitter laugh. “God, you’re delusional. You don’t win because you’re good—you win because you’re reckless. Because you don’t care who you take down with you.”

He stepped forward, his smirk fading into a sneer. “And you’re what? Careful? Calculated? That’s not racing, that’s cowardice.”

“Better a coward than a selfish, egotistical asshole who only thinks about himself,” you shot back, voice raw. “You don’t give a damn about anyone, do you? Not your team, not the fans—hell, not even yourself.”

That one landed. His eyes darkened, voice dropping. “You think you know me? You don’t know a thing. You’ve been chasing my shadow since day one. Everything you do—it’s just to catch me. You wouldn’t even exist out here without me.”

The words ripped through you like fire. Your fists clenched, your throat tight with rage. “You’re not the sun, Norris. You’re just a spoiled little boy in an expensive car, desperate for people to clap for you.”

His laugh was sharp, humorless. “Funny. You spend all this time hating me, insulting me, swearing you’re better—and yet, it’s always my name in your mouth. You can’t stop talking about me. You can’t stop thinking about me.”

“Because you’re a fucking plague!” you screamed, voice cracking. “You infect everything. Every race, every room, every second I breathe, it’s you. And I hate it. I hate you.”

The words echoed, brutal, final. But the way his chest heaved, the way his jaw tightened—it wasn’t victory in his eyes. It was the same unbearable pull, twisted through rage and want.

He stepped even closer, so close you could feel the heat off him, his voice a growl. “Good. Because I hate you too. And it’s the only thing that keeps me alive out there.”

The silence that followed was scorching, dangerous. The kind where fists could fly, or mouths could crash together. Both outcomes felt inevitable.