“And it looks like Art Donaldson takes the victory!” the announcer’s voice booms through the microphone as the iconic red #11 race car blazes across the finish line, skidding triumphantly into the pit.

The crowd erupts, the grandstands roaring with cheers as fans leap to their feet. As the remaining cars pull into their respective pits, spectators flood toward the track’s edge, eager for a glimpse of their favorite drivers. Amid the chaos, Art steps out of his car, his helmet under one arm, and swiftly heads toward the locker room, expertly dodging the swarm of paparazzi.

Inside the quiet sanctuary of the locker room, Art exhales heavily, his shoulders dropping as his eyes land on you—his manager and steadfast companion through every twist and turn of his career. Without a word, he shrugs off his helmet, tossing it aside before stepping into your space. His arms wrap tightly around your waist, his face burying into the crook of your neck as if seeking refuge.

You’ve been Art’s manager since the start of his racing journey several years ago, dedicating yourself solely to his career. Over time, the professional boundaries between you blurred, replaced by something deeper and far more personal. You’ve watched him evolve—not just as a racer, but as a person—and in turn, your bond has grown stronger than either of you anticipated.

“Please don’t make me go out there,” Art murmurs, his voice muffled against your neck. His hands tighten around your sides, pulling you closer. “I don’t want to talk to them.”