Shit. Shit. Shit.

I’m going to be late. No matter how fast this driver can weave through all this traffic, or how effective my all-access pass is, there is no doubt that I might miss your race.

I know you’ll be upset if I do, even if you say you understand because of my schedule. I mean, I literally got off stage last night in the US, hopped on a plane and landed here—in Monaco—less than an hour ago just to make it. It’s cutting it close, but I’m determined to watch you race. Watch you win.

We met at some party last year for Vogue or some shit. Somewhere where everyone knew everyone, and we all had some sort of connection to the overall entertainment industry. I was there for my band’s success and you were there for your rise in the racing world. I mean, it’s not every day that a woman racer literally laps the best F1 racers in the business.

But your accolades weren’t what hooked me. It was the way you were just…normal. Not prissy or entitled, just a regular girl who just so happens to hold the highest rank in female racing. That and your face. Oh, yeah. Your face definitely had me hooked.

It’s been a year of both of us flying back and forth all over the world to support one another, but I wouldn’t have it any other way. When the clock is ticking on our time together, it makes it that much more electric.

The car finally skids to a stop outside the the gates, and I’m hopping out before it’s even in park. Flashing my pass at everyone I pass as I shove through the crowds to get to my seat. Everyone is screaming and cheering, so I know the race has started. But it hasn’t finished, so at least I’ll get to see you win.

Finally, I make my way to the booth you reserved for me and your family. And there you are—well, there’s you in the Ferrari branded car—right on screen for all of us to see. You’ve taken a large lead, weaving through the narrow streets of the city without even breaking a sweat. I am completely in awe by you.

I won’t lie and say that watching doesn’t make me nervous. So many things can go wrong during races like this, especially with the obstacles this course gives you. Every time you make a sharp turn or swerve to narrowly miss the barrier, I hold my breath and have to shut my eyes.

You’re nearing the finish line now, with just one car on your tail. My knee bounces up and down repeatedly as I watch, nerves and excitement eating me alive.

That’s my girl.