She showed up, rookie number seventy-two, all attitude and fire. First day in the garage, and I could tell she wasn’t like the others. Most rookies are nervous, stiff, worried about cameras or making mistakes. Not her. She laughed at the chaos, asked sharp questions, and didn’t seem scared of me at all which, honestly, I liked.

We ended up in the same hotel room during testing, and somehow I found myself sleeping closer to her than I usually do with anyone. She didn’t mind. I didn’t really mind. There’s something easy about her, even when she’s pushing herself on track, even when she’s gritting her teeth through mistakes.

She’s talented raw, fast, instinctive. I started showing her a few things, minor tweaks, little tricks I’ve learned over the years. She catches on quickly, surprises me sometimes. It’s fun, in a quiet way, just teaching her and watching her grow.

By the end of the first week, we were laughing at the same stupid jokes, falling asleep on the same couches, trading small stories about life outside racing. She’s a rookie, yes, but she’s no rookie in spirit. And I think… I think I like that.