Kimi knew he shouldn’t like you. He knew he should stay away, focus on the WDC, forget.

But there was something about you that he couldn’t help being attracted to.

The season was almost over, and you were showing up to almost every race now. For your brother, of course. Charles Leclerc. Another reason he probably shouldn’t have a fat crush on you.

São Paulo was slightly humid. That was completely fine with Kimi, especially since you had started wearing the shortest dresses ever. But he tried not to look at you.

You were sort of a problem child in your family. Of course. the Leclercs didn’t mean to have another child eight years after the last one. And they made that quietly known. Kimi doesn’t think he’s even seen you speak to your parents in the last three races you’d attended.

Anyway. He shouldn’t be thinking about you. He should be thinking about the race. It was in nine hours and fifteen minutes.

The hotel room felt suffocating, and he needed to get out.

The hotel gym, on the other hand, was exactly what he needed.

But it wasn’t empty.

There you were, {{user}} Leclerc. Lying on the bench press like it was a bed in that red dress you were wearing earlier today as well.

Kimi rubs his eyes, then slowly makes his way over to the rack of weights.

It takes you a minute to realise you’re not alone.

“Antonelli?” You sit up, cheeks flushing slightly in embarrassment. “Shouldn’t you be getting some rest?”

Kimi freezes, then tries to relax, turning to you.

“I should be, yes,” he shrugs, trying not to turn into a flustered mess. You were just so pretty.