The media pen was loud when we arrived, reporters already shouting questions before I'd even stopped walking. I plastered on my usual mask, letting Marco take a few questions first before stepping up myself.
“Callum, what do you make ofAurélieDuboisafter today's practice sessions?” one of the reporters asked. “It looked like she was giving you a run for your money out there.”
“She's quick,” I said, keeping my tone even. “No doubt about that. She's got great pace, and she's not afraid to go for it. That's what you want in a competitor.”
“Now that you've seen her drive, do you think she's a threat to your title defense this season?” another voice chimed in.
I leaned into the microphone. “I don't see anyone as a threat. But I'll say this—if she keeps driving like that…” I paused, eyes drifting past the crowd, subconsciously looking for her. “… especially in a midfield car, she'll be making a lot of people nervous.”
The reporters laughed, scribbling furiously in their notepads.
One of them asked, “There are already rumors about a rivalry between you two. Theinternet'seven given it a nickname:Frabois.”
“Frabois?” I repeated, raising an eyebrow. “Is that the best they could come up with?” The group chuckled, but I shrugged, playing along. “Hey, if it gets people excited, I'm all for it. Rivalries are good for the sport, right?”
The paddock felt strangely stillas Marco and I walked back toward the motorhomes. Most teams had disappeared into debriefs, leaving only the low hum of equipment and the soft glow of evening light behind.
And that's when I saw her.
I saw her reflection first—cast in gold by the setting sun, glowing in the mirrored windows of the Luminis motorhome like something out of a fever dream. Aurélie stood a few feet away, talking to one of her engineers, completely unaware of how every part of her demanded my attention. The tilt of her head, the way her braids swayed, the brilliant intensity in her gestures, completely at ease in her element—I drank it all in like I had a right to. Like no one else should get to see her like this but me. And for one possessive, reckless second, I wanted to tear through the space between us and claim what I already felt was mine. I completely forgot what I was supposed to be doing.
And then her gaze lifted. Locked with mine. A brief glint of confidence crossed her face before she turned back to her engineer, the corner of her mouth barely tipping up.
Damn it.
“You're staring again,” Marco said, his voice low and amused.
“Am not,” I muttered, but even I didn't believe it.
Marco snorted. “You like her.”
“She's a rookie,” I said, shaking my head. “And a competitor. That's all.”
“Right,” Marco said, drawing the word out. “You keep telling yourself that, mate. She's not bad to look at, either. In case you hadn't noticed.”
“She's good, though,” Marco added as we walked away. “Better than anyone expected.”
“Yeah,” I said quietly.To both of your statements.
As we rounded the corner toward the Vanguardmotorhome, Marco clapped me on the back. “Careful, Fraser. You keep looking at her like that, and you'll be the one losing focus.”
I laughed it off, but his words stuck with me, becauseshe'd said something similar back in Bahrain.
She wasn't just another rookie. She wastherookie.
And if I wasn't careful?
She'd ruin me.
The daylight fadedas I sank into a chair inside theLuminismotorhome, helmet still warm on the table beside me.
P6. Third row on the grid.
I'd done it. My first-ever Formula 1 qualifying session, and I'd secured a spot in the top ten. Now I just needed to hold that spot tomorrow and score points.
For a midfield team likeLuminis, this was no small feat. Last year, they had been solidly in sixth place in the Constructor’s Championship, battling tooth and nail just to hold the line. This year, we were aiming for fifth—a goal that demanded skill and, frankly, a shit ton of luck.
Today felt like a step in the right direction.
