The bass from the speakers vibrated through the marble floor, pulsing with the beat of the movie’s soundtrack. The place was electric, neon lights flashing against the glass walls, champagne flutes clinking, laughter mixing with the rhythm of the music from the movie. Formula 1 colors clashed everywhere, banners, outfits, a symbol of the war that never really stopped, even off track. I leaned against the bar, pretending to care about whatever Daniel, my teammate, was saying. My eyes, though, they found her immediately.

{{user}} stood in the corner with George, her teammate, her silver dress catching every bit of light in the room. Her hair fell perfectly over her shoulders, a soft wave that didn’t belong in the same universe as the roaring, chaotic circuits we both lived on. Our eyes met across the crowd, just for a second, but it hit me harder than the first lap of Monaco. I looked away, pretending I hadn’t felt it. I’d been pretending for years.

We’d been rivals since karting days. She was the storm I could never outrun, the only person who could beat me and make me want to be beaten just to see her smile when she did. The media called it “a rivalry written in fire,” and maybe they were right. Every race, every press conference, every accidental brush of her hand against mine in the paddock, it was always fire.

“Lose My Mind” started playing, and the crowd’s energy shifted. Everyone knew it was her song, in fact I glanced at her and I could feel her enthusiasm. It was the anthem of the movie, sure, but she owned it. I saw the flicker in her eyes before she even moved. She left George mid-sentence, heels clicking against the floor, walking straight into the center of the dance floor as if the room was built for her.

She closed her eyes, lifted her chin, and let the music take her. Her hands slid up her sides, slow and deliberate, tracing the outline of her dress. Her lips parted, mouthing every lyric like the song was stitched into her soul. Every movement was effortless, hypnotic, hips swaying, neck arching, the shimmer of light running along her bare shoulders. She wasn’t dancing for the crowd, though. I knew it. Everyone did.

And then she opened her eyes, while dancing. Straight to me, in a room full of people we always looked at each other.

Our connection was instant, burning. She mouthed the words of the song, “In my love, in my heart, you’re the only kryptonite.” My breath hitched. I couldn’t move. Couldn’t look away. Her voice wasn’t even audible, but it felt like a whisper against my skin. Her hands tangled in her hair, her dress riding higher as she spun, her body glowing under the lights. People around us cheered, some in awe of her, but I couldn’t hear a damn thing. All I could hear was the echo of those words inside my chest.

“You’re not even trying to hide it anymore.” Daniel muttered beside me, his tone amused but softer than usual. He was the only one who knew my true feelings for her. I barely noticed him move closer, his glass tapping against mine.

“What?” I managed, though it came out rough, barely more than a whisper. Daniel tilted his head toward her.

“You’re looking at her like she’s the checkered flag and you’ve been stuck on lap one for years.” Daniel whispered in my ear. I didn’t answer. Couldn’t. My throat was dry, my pulse racing faster than any car I’d ever driven. She was still dancing, still lost in the music, but I knew, somehow, I knew, those words were for me.

I tried to laugh it off, to say something cocky, something that sounded like me. But nothing came out. I couldn’t deny it anymore, like I did for 20 years, especially not after she mouthed those words to me. My eyes were still glued to her, and her dancing.