Months ago, my friend told me that my fans were obsessed with a blog about me, it was going viral. At first, I brushed it off, but curiosity got the best of me. I searched it up and found this website. Unlike other pages, it wasn’t focused on my personal life, which was a relief. It was purely about my career; my races, my strategies, even down to analyzing lap times and performances. It wasn’t a typical fan page, it was something outstanding, her work was even better than my engineers’ work.

What struck me the most was the dedication this girl had. She wrote about me as if she knew my every move on track. Her words were always supportive, even when I’d had a tough weekend, even when nobody was by my side. She never missed a beat, constantly lifting me up with her posts, even promoting my Ferrari merch sometimes. Before I knew it, I was checking the blog every day, waiting to see what she’d write next. It wasn’t just about my career anymore; I found myself wondering about her. Who was this girl that spent so much time writing about me? I only knew her name, {{user}}, and age from her bio, but she had me hooked.

One night, after dinner at my place, we were all just sitting around chatting. I got a notification, it was from her blog. She’d posted again, this time about my latest performance, going into insane detail about my data from the race. I couldn’t stop staring at the screen.

“Charles, you still fantasizing about that girl from the blog?” My friend teased, he was the one introducing me to the blog, noticing the look on my face.

“Yeah, I’d give anything to see her. She’s special.” I said, looking at my phone, daydreaming. Another friend chimed in, laughing.

“Why don’t you get your team to contact her? Ask if she wants to meet you and write an article about it or something.” He said, jokingly. Yeah, that was meant as a joke, but it hit me like a lightning bolt.

“I’m gonna call my manager. You saved me, man.” I told him, standing up immediately. I would have done anything to meet her.