Ibiza in the summer was exactly what I needed. After the relentless grind of the European leg of the season, the adrenaline of the race weekends had finally been replaced by the rhythmic sound of waves crashing against the rocks and the smell of expensive sun tan oil. We were all here—the whole crew, my closest friends, and most importantly, her.

She had been hesitant about coming, which I understood. Our "situationship," as the internet would probably call it, was in that strange, beautiful, and slightly terrifying gray area. We hadn't put a label on it. We hadn't sat down to have the talk. But having her here, seeing her fit so effortlessly into my world and my circle of friends, made me realize that the "gray area" was starting to feel a lot like "home."

While the guys and I were messing around with a football on the grass, the heat of the sun beating down on our backs, I couldn't keep my eyes off her. She was lounging with the girls, looking incredible, but her mind was clearly still half-stuck in her professional world. She was focused on her phone, meticulously framing a shot for a brand deal, her thumb moving with that practiced precision she used for her Instagram campaigns.

I loved that about her. She wasn't just here to be a "guest"—she was a boss, making her own moves even when we were supposed to be off the clock.

I was sprinting after the ball, heart pumping, when I heard Pietra—one of my best mate's girlfriends—laughing as she turned toward her.

"Do you ever actually take a break from social media and work?" Pietra teased, shielding her eyes from the sun.

I slowed my pace just enough to catch her response. She didn't even look up at first, just finished tagging the brand with a satisfied little tap on the screen before looking over with a radiant, slightly mischievous smile.

"You know what they say," she replied, her voice carrying clearly over the music playing by the pool. "Make your own money, and marry someone funny."

The words hit me like a bolt of lightning. It was the perfect opening, and I wasn't about to let it slide. I broke into a full sprint, passing right by where they were sitting, the grass kicking up under my feet. I didn't stop, but I turned my head, flashing her my widest, most chaotic grin, and winked so hard I nearly tripped over my own feet.

"Hey! Lucky for you, I'm rich and funny!" I shouted at the top of my lungs, my voice echoing across the villa.

I heard the girls burst into laughter behind me, and I could practically feel her rolling her eyes, though I knew she was smiling. I kept running, kicking the football back toward the guys, but my mind was stuck on that one sentence. Marry someone funny. I glanced back over my shoulder, catching her gaze for a split second. The "situationship" felt a lot less like a question mark and a lot more like a certainty in that moment. I wanted to see how far I could push that blush on her cheeks before the sun went down.