I climbed out of the car, sweat trickling down the back of my neck. I stepped out of the garage and glanced down the pit lane to seeCallumpulling into the Vanguard garage. He jumped out of his car with the kind of practiced ease that only came from years of experience, running a hand through his damp hair as his helmet dangled casually from his grip.
Nearly choking at the sight, I self-consciously peeled my braids off the clammy skin of my neck.
Putaindemerde, it should be illegal for him to look that good. And why did his helmet hair, dripping in sweat, make me want to ride him like a fucking roller coaster?
For a second, our eyes met across the bustling paddock. The smug grin that crossed his face made my stomach flip—and not entirely out of annoyance. The memory of his earlier words rushed to the forefront of my mind, and I scowled instinctively, turning away slightly before he could see how flustered I was.
Henricappeared at my side, glancing at the data on his tablet. “Good work out there. We'll tweak a few things, but your times were strong.”
“Thanks,” I said absently, still hyperaware ofCallumstandingacross the way. I could feel him looking at me. He wasn't even trying to hide it.
“Don't let him get in your head,”Henricadded, following my gaze with an amused smirk. “He's just testing the waters. Four-time world champion attitude.”
I straightened my posture. “He's not in my head.” I unzipped my suit and tied the sleeves around my waist, pretending it was the heat that had me flushed. No other reason.
AurélieDuboisdidn't get flustered. Not by men. Not by anyone.
And certainly not by Callum Fraser.
But as I turned to head to the team debrief, I couldn't ignore the small, satisfied smile tugging at the corner of my lips.
Fine. So maybe I'd let him push me a little harder today. Maybe I'd wanted to prove something—not just to him or the world watching us, but to myself.
I'd come into this season with something to prove. And ifCallumthought he could shadow me on the track, he was in for a rude awakening.
I wouldn't match him. I'd make him chase me.
The final practicesession of the weekend had just ended, and the sun dipped low on the horizon as I climbed out of the car, sweat clinging to my skin, adrenaline still pulsing through my veins. The paddock buzzed with activity, teams scrambling to analyze data and finalize strategies for qualifying tomorrow.
I tossed my helmet onto the counter in the Vanguard garage and ran a hand through my hair, still damp from the heat trapped inside the cockpit. This last practice session had been… something.
Auréliewas proving to be a real problem.
She stuck to my line through sector after sector, thatLuminiscar glued to me like she belonged there. Precise. Audacious. Too bold for a rookie—but maybe that's what made it impressive. And perhaps a bit annoying.
Every time I pushed, she pushed harder, even attempting a ballsy overtake on the inside at Turn 6. It didn't stick—she overshot the braking zone, and I took the position back. But damn, she was close. Closer than any rookie had a right to be.
Marco handed me a water bottle and smirked. “You're quiet.”
I took it with a grunt, downing half before answering. “Just thinking.”
“About the rookie?” Marco asked, grinning knowingly.
I shot him a look, but he didn't back off. “What about her?”
“Oh, I don't know,” he said, his voice dripping with mock innocence. “Maybe the fact that she spent two practice sessions giving you a run for your money? Or maybe the way you couldn't stop looking at her in the media pen yesterday?”
“Piss off, you bloody idiot,” I muttered, though my ears betrayed me with a distinct burning sensation.
Marco laughed, clapping me on the back. “Mate, it's okay to admit you're intrigued. She's good. Better than good. And you like competition.”
He wasn't wrong. Competition was my lifeblood, andAuréliehad it in spades. There was a fire in her that reminded me of some of the greatest drivers I'd ever seen—Michael Schumacher, Lewis Hamilton, Sebastian Vettel, Max Verstappen—the kind of fire that made people legends.
It wasn't just her driving. It washer. Nothing broke her focus when she climbed into the Luminis car. She was intense, but in a layered way.
And maybe the way her ponytail swayed when she walked wasn't entirely lost on me either. Not that I'd admit it out loud.
“Come on,” Marco said, nodding toward the paddock exit. “Media's waiting. You know they're going to ask about her.”
