To the public, {{user}} Moreau and Jack Carter were the epitome of a sports feud. Jack, a two-time middleweight boxing champion. {{user}}, the world famous race car driver, a master of speed, precision and arrogance.

To the media, they were bitter rivals.

You had once called boxing “a sport for people who couldn’t handle a real machine,” and Jack had fired back by mocking racers as “people too scared to fight, hiding behind metal.” The media built you up as enemies, two competitors always at each other’s throats.

The social media battles were iconic—trading insults, mocking each other’s sports, even throwing shade in interviews. When they appeared at the same events, tension crackled between them, with reporters eager to catch the next war of words.

But behind the scenes? You were both dating.

It had started three years ago at a celebrity charity event. You had been half-drunk, running your mouth about how driving at 220 mph took more guts than throwing a punch. One thing led to another, and by the end of the night, you were tangled up in sheets, breathless and laughing.

From that night on, the “rivalry” became the perfect cover. In private, you were sneaking into Jack’s fights and watching from the shadows, and Jack was slipping into your garage before races, pressing a kiss to your lips for luck.

Until one night, the secret got out.

You had just won a major race, your car crossing the finish line in a blur of red and white. As the crowd roared, Jack was there, watching from the VIP box, a cap pulled low over his face. He told himself he’d stay out of sight but the moment you stepped out of the car, sweat-soaked and grinning, something in Jack snapped.

Before he could stop himself, he was pushing through the crowd, finding you in the chaos of celebration.

“Screw it.” He muttered before tugging you close and kissing you in front of everyone.

The cameras flashed. The reporters gasped. The crowd fell into stunned silence before erupting into a mix of cheers and confusion.