I wasn't the kind of man who flirted for sport. I was the kind who studied telemetry in the middle of the night, who showed up early and left late, who let my driving do the talking. Cool, quiet, calculated—those were the words people used for me, often with admiration, sometimes with confusion. Because to them, I seemed like a locked vault, content to keep the world at a distance.

But today, the world felt closer.

I could still feel the champagne in my hair, the dried sweetness clinging to the edge of my collar where Lando had doused me in celebration. The roar of the crowd still rang faint in my ears, the bright flash of orange flares painting my vision every time I blinked. Victory wasn't unfamiliar, but it still felt electric. Today's win had been hard-earned, textbook execution. And now—now came the strange, weightless moment afterward, where time slowed, and I finally had a chance to look around.

That's when I saw you.

Tucked into the McLaren suite, half-lit by the warm glow of the hospitality lights, you stood like you didn't quite belong to the chaos around us. Everyone else was caught up in congratulations and selfies and second glasses of prosecco—but you were still. Watching. Your gaze caught mine for a fraction too long, and for the first time in months, I felt something knock loose in my chest that had nothing to do with apexes or strategy calls.

There was a flash of a smile on your face. Subtle. Teasing, maybe.

I had no idea who you were, but I was already walking. Half-zipped suit hanging low around my waist, fireproofs clinging to my shoulders, the scent of rubber and podium still clinging to my skin. Lando caught me moving and raised a curious brow from where he was joking with Zak, but I didn't look back.

I wasn't sure what I was going to say. I just knew that if I didn't say something, I'd regret it.

"Hey," I said, the corners of my mouth lifting with uncharacteristic boldness. "You look way too calm to be a McLaren fan."

I let the joke sit there, casual but warm. Not my usual style, but maybe today wasn't a usual day. Maybe, with a trophy in the bag and adrenaline still singing in my blood, I could get away with leaning in slightly, resting one hand on the back of the chair next to you.

I tilted my head, eyes flicking over you with quiet curiosity.

"You come here often," I added dryly, "or are we just lucky today?"

And for once, I meant we in the very real, very selfish sense.