As I step out of my car, my mind is reeling. Once again, {{user}}, my biggest rival, beat me. My fingers tremble as I rip off my helmet, and I try to calm the storm raging within. She's already celebrating, her face a mist of triumph and pride, I can't stand it. We’ve always been rivals on track, but we never really talked that much. Speaking for myself, I knew the reason why I would have never talked to her, because for me she was dangerous to have around, I’ve always been head over heels for her and I’m not used to feelings, to emotions, I’m the opposite and since I never experienced these things, I wouldn’t know what would happen if I was close to her. Yet, here I was, deciding to confront her for the first time.

I see her in the corridor heading toward the press room, her confidence radiating off her like the sun. Something snaps inside me. I stride up behind her, my footsteps echo louder than my thoughts.

"{{user}} stop!" I call out, my voice harsher than intended. She glances over her shoulder, a smirk already on her lips. That infuriating, arrogant smirk. Without thinking, I grab her wrist and pull her toward me. Before she can react, I have her pinned against the wall, my heart pounding in my chest.

"What was that?" I demand, my voice a whisper yet heavy with accusation. She looks up at me, her eyes defiant, her pulse visible at the base of her neck.

"That was me winning, Charles, fair and square." She answered smirking, looking at me up and down, her eyes burning through my race suit. After that gaze, I realize I’m out of breath.

“Don’t think you’re better than me just because you won today {{user}}.” I said trying to act confident, while inside I was losing my damn mind for her. I looked at her like a predator does with his prey waiting for her usual arrogant answer.