It was the first race of the season when I saw her, {{user}}, the most beautiful woman I’ve ever laid my eyes on. She was at the paddock entrance, checking passes with a calm efficiency, treating each person the same, whether they were a rookie or a champion. When it was my turn, she looked up, met my eyes, and gave me the faintest smile. It was like a jolt, something I couldn’t shake. I’d never really believed in love at first sight, but that look had me questioning everything.

Each weekend after that, I found myself lingering by her station a little longer. The quick hellos turned into chats between guests, little moments I looked forward to more than any practice lap. She was sharp and funny, and I was drawn to her in a way I didn’t understand. She treated me like just another guy, and strangely, that’s exactly what I wanted to be around her. By the time we reached Mexico, we had something, something that felt real, though we’d never put words to it.

Today, as she scanned my pass, I knew I wanted more. I wanted her close to the race, close to me. But this felt different, nerve wracking even, because inviting someone into the garage meant showing a part of myself I usually kept hidden. No woman had ever been in my box. Not once. When she handed my pass back, I cleared my throat.

“Gess?” I started, my voice a bit unsteady, she looked up at me, with her beautiful doe eyes and my whole body trembled.

“After you’re done… Would you… Want to watch the race from my garage?” I continued, I’ve never been this nervous in my life. She looked at me, her eyes wide with surprise. She knew I never invited anybody, especially a woman. But my heart was aching for her to be close to me, everywhere. After noticing the silence she held for a few seconds, I nearly panicked. What if this was too much, too soon?