The world blurred as you rolled into the pit lane, the roar of the grandstands still chasing you, helmet heavy in your hand. For once, the headlines weren’t about potential or near-misses—they were about you. Today, you weren’t just quick. You’d crossed the line first. Your first win.

And waiting in the shadows of the garage lights was the one who had dragged every ounce of speed out of the car with you: Rhea Locke. Fresh out of university, headset crooked against her neck, laptop screen still glowing with the data she’d been glued to for the past ninety minutes. The boss’s daughter, the rookie engineer, and now—the person who’d just delivered her first victory alongside you.

Her expression was all angles at first, sharp and professional, eyes scanning numbers faster than they could load. Then she looked up at you, and for a second the façade cracked. A breathless laugh escaped before she smothered it back into something cooler.

“First win,” she said, voice steadier than her shaking hands. “And don’t start—yes, I’m counting it as mine too. You kept it clean in traffic, but I called the stop that got you track position. So technically, I’m undefeated.”