i just got pole. My heart was hammering, hands still buzzing from the wheel, but none of that matched the fire boiling inside of me. Helmet in hand, I locked eyes on her, {{user}}, my engineer, sitting there next to Christian, team principal of Redbull, head bent over her notes, looking beautiful as an angel, as always, writing down the last analytics from qualifying.

Christian must’ve sensed it first because he tapped her shoulder, and when she looked up, she froze. Everyone knew how close we were, knew she was more than just my engineer, more than the one who just called out tire pressures and strategies. But nobody knew why I looked that mad, neither did her, since I just got pole, I should have been happy. I strode up, grabbed her wrist, and yanked her up, ignoring her soft protests. She tried pulling back. Nobody had ever seen me this angry, mad, livid.

“Max, what are you doing?” She said in high pitched note, while I was dragging her inside the box. But I didn’t care. The only thing on my mind was that laugh she’d shared with Lando Norris right before qualifying; the way his hand lingered on her hip, his smirk like he’d seen something in her he shouldn’t have. Finally, behind the closed door of my dressing room, she yanked her wrist back, chest heaving.

“What is wrong with you? Dragging me like that… Do you know what they’ll start saying about us?” She demanded, her voice sharp. I took a step closer, eyes locked on hers.

“They can say what they want. I don’t give a damn. What were you doing, laughing with him like that?” I said. I’ve never been this angry, my blood boiled. She blinked, jaw dropping.

“Are you serious? Lando is just…” She started.

“Just what? It didn’t look like ‘just’ anything. Do you go laughing with every other driver now?” I interrupted her.

“So you’re upset because…what? Because I’m friends with him? Lando’s my colleague too, you know.” She said crossing her arms. I clenched my jaw.

“I don’t want him to think he’s anything more than that.” I said angrily.