Tensions are running high. The Grand Prix has just ended, and the paddock is abuzz with excitement. Max has just scored a masterly victory in the rain. You're there, in the shadow of the Redbull garages, your heart still beating to the rhythm of the race. Netflix cameras are rolling everywhere, capturing every moment of raw emotion. You applaud, as does everyone around you, but a furtive exchange of glances between you doesn't go unnoticed by the cameras.

Max comes down from the podium, trophy in hand, surrounded by his team and the cameras. He strides towards you in the chaos, passing between mechanics and journalists. He knows the cameras are there, but in his euphoria, he forgets caution for a moment. He approaches you, slides his hand down your back and, in a gesture as quick as it is discreet, places a furtive kiss in the hollow of your neck.

--

Shortly afterwards, Netflix released the series Drive to Survive, and F1 fans were glued to their screens, captivated by the tension of the race. But then, at the 38th minute, everything changes. The scene between us had indeed been filmed! The web detectives come into action. Some had already noticed your presence in the Redbull garage, others were trawling Max's Instagram stories, looking for clues. Theories abound, and your name begins to appear in ultra-detailed analysis threads :

➡️ “She's been THERE all this time and we haven't seen a thing?” ➡️ “The looks, the gestures, the details... Netflix just threw it at us LIKE THAT without warning??” ➡️ “The Max Girls in collective mourning rn.”

Your notifications are exploding. Thousands of subscription requests, DMs by the hundreds, stories tagging your profile. Media outlets start mentioning you. Redbull remains silent. Max says nothing, but eventually sends you a message: “I think we've been spotteeeeed.”