Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Aiden pov:

I walk off the elevator and pull up my sun glasses as I breath in the smell. Gas,dirt, sweat and debris's. Oh how I love race day.
A smile tugs on my face as I look at the track I will no doubt take on today, and take my 4th win on. I put my hands on my hips as I hear Tyler calling my name. I groan and turn around as he stomps over. Does he ever stop yelling? "The fuck is taking you so long? All I said to do was to check out where you will be racing from?!" He yells flinging his screwdriver around in his hand like he was about to throw it at me. "We have things to do and I need you for half of them so stop wasting time godamn it!" He yelled again spotting the annoyance in my face. "Im coming, geez take the stick out your ass," I roll my eyes at him as I feel the raging heat burn my back. I hear him yell some more before Ben comes so from behind him and pats his shoulder.

I plop down on the couch and tug on my shirt as I turn the fan to face me. I grab the remote and smile as I see my teams logo on the tv.

"Welcome back to formula 1 weekend! The new season is less than a week away and your favorite teams are trying to scrap at>the time they have left to prepare and practice, we have many new racers this season and many new hearts lit up with determination to win."
"Last season Aiden Clark, team Ferrari youngest star kept his honor and continued his 3 year championship streak and quite frankly SWEPT any competition away in Baku, the city of Caspian Sea. It really is amazing how drivers who have been doing this for so long get swept by a 21 year old who has only been doing this for TWO YEARS, but it seems he might have met a match. Red Bulls rising star Ashlyn banner has made quite the name for-"

click off the tv and sigh. They do this every year where they proclaim I have a rivalry with some random and make it a big thing till I leave them in my dirt on the track. "Aiden!" I hear someone call out. I turn my head and stiffen as I realize whose footsteps those are. My mom walk in the Ferrari common room and looks me up and down. "what are you doing in here?" She asked. I look around at my settings. I have 2 sodas around me, my feet are up on the table, and I'm laying on the couch.

“...what does it look like?" I say like is obvious. My mom lets out a shaky breath as she holds the bridge of her nose. Something sinks in my stomach and I feel my guts rearranging themselves. That's what she does when she's frustrated. "Why don't you go and do something productive, like going out to the press and answering some questions like I asked you to do 300 times." She says as her voice hardens. I quickly get up and make my way to the door but she sighs and pulls me back. "I really wish you would just act like what you are" she says attempting to pick at my bleach blonde hair. I scoff. "And what am I exactly?" I ask sarcastically. She glares at me as she pulls at my Ferrari zip up and sighs at my black sweats.

"A famous f1 driver who can win so much more"

I freeze at the word famous. "Me and your dad put too much work into this just for you to no win it" "mom I'm at the height on my career nothing-" "I just need you to get your shit together, its a new season and you need to win." I flinch at her curse and she pats my shoulder as she walks out leaving me alone. I clench my eyes close. She was watching the same channel I was on and heard them say I had a rivalry, she always gets on me when she hears anything that will risk me not winning. I open the door and slam it close behind me.

I hear my fans scream my name from the other side of the door and I look at the interviewer. "How are you feeling about last season and do you think you will have the same outcome this year?” He asked. I think about me and my PR team talking about how I should answer questions. "I think last year was definitely a good run for everyone, and I'm sure this year will be a great fight." I say keeping my smile very uplifting. What I wanted to say was, "last year was easy, this year will be even easier!" But I would never in front of a camera. He smiles and nervously goes to the next card that he's holding. "You have been compared to Red Bulls new driver, Ashlyn banner" he starts. God not this again. Who is this nobody and why are we getting compared? I shift my body. "Do you think this will be a problem?" He finishes as the camera zooms in my face. "I think everyone is a threat at getting in my way so I just hope this Ashlyn guy knows he's going to need to work for it" i said pointing at my Ferrari logo on my jacket. The interviewer looks confused then looks at
the camera crew and they all look like I just said something in a non spoken language. I look around and bring my eyebrows in.

"I think you got something wrong, banner is not a guy-“ he starts before a man walks in. "Times up we got another waiting" he says. We both exchange thank you and I get up and open the door as fans jump all over me and my security guards struggle to get them off. My smile strains as I see all the phones attempting to get a picture of me. A young woman grabs me and nuzzles her face in my neck and my body clenches. My security guards yell and pull her off me. I pull out my hadron and pull it down on my head shielding my face as my security pulls me away. Why did they say Ashlyn’s not? Whatever this guy is, he has the nerve to be my rival?

Nothing is going to stop me from championships this year.

Chapter Text

I slam my body back on the couch and lean forward with my hands on my legs. I'm fine with physical contact but that was a lot. I breathe out and lean back. Why did the interviewer act so weird when I said Ashlyn's name? Probably because they weren't expecting me to call him out. A smile spreads on my face. He's probably was watching the interview and got shivers, he has to be intimidated by me. Not that I'm complaining, I have enough friends in this line of field so I couldn't care less about making more enemies. The room buzzes with heat. It's like I'm in an oven, the air feels thick and heavy, almost suffocating. I mean what can I expect, I'm in Las Vegas. Maybe I should go out and look at the tracks again? Nah that would risk Tyler finding me and dragging me around to help him.

My pit crew this year is pretty good. The team principal who gives out team orders is my dad, I have a whole group of engineers including Tyler (who won't stop talking about how his twin is working for another team this year), my technical director is this guy name Charlie, my race engineer who help me get the most out of a car during qualifying and the race, my race analyst that help me get strategies and my performance. My pit crew who changes my tires, makes adjustments and all that jazz. Ben is part of the mechanics.

My phone buzzes, pulling me out my thoughts as I reach for it with sweaty hands. It's my coach. "Hey," I mumble lazily into the phone to my ear. "I just ordered your food, it might take a while-they're swamped" he says, his tone sharp with frustration.
I groan as my stomach growls in protest.
"Listen, I'm currently at the press announcement so I won't be there to grab it. You're going to have to have to head in the cafeteria yourself" he adds matter of factly.
Another groan escapes me. I just got mobbed by a crowd of fans, and you're sending me back out?!" I complain. "No press of fans are allowed in until the actual race, you're going to be fine" he replied clearly unbothered. Before I cane argue I can hear the beep of the call ending. He hung up on me. I let out a heavy sigh and drag myself up to my feet. At lest I can get some fresh air.

——————————————

"Here ya go! Uhm.. have a nice day Mr clark!" Said the cashier smiling nervously at me. I give a her a small smile back and pick up my food, Ben turns around and waves at me that he found a seat. I squeeze between all the people and ignore the glances or the people trying to sneak a picture of me. We sit down and i open up my box of food. White rice, oats, boiled chicken, a boiled egg, some almonds, and some fruit.

Ben looks at me as my smile slightly fades at the sight. "
'..what the fuck is that?" He says chomping down on
his pasta. I tilt my head at all the flavorless and unseasoned food in front of me. " he always makes me eat this kind of stuff before races" i say ripping my fork out the plastic. "How the car looking?" I ask picking at the fruit.
He gulps down a tomato. "Pretty good, we made the engine go smoother and it should be easier to steer then last year" he said. "How are we feeling about the new season?" He asked. I shrug cutting my boiled egg. "I
mean, it's practically the same every season. I get all nervous, everyone says I have a rivalry with someone, my parents get up my ass, I win all the races, then I make it to championships." I said unbothered with filtering it.
Ben nods his head. "So it's easy to win?" "No of course its not easy, I mess up and someone takes the lead but I'm just saying that if I put my all in these races I know I could-" I start before someone catches my eye.

A red haired women. She was breathtaking. Freckles dusted her face, her hair tucked in a low messy bun with a few stray pieces out in the front and sides, she was wearing a white tank top with low rise jeans and a Red Bull hat on, a deep red purse sliding down her shoulder. For a moment everything fades as i hear Ben try to get my attention. The cafeteria dulls, the sound of talking echoes. All I can focus on was her. How she fidgets with her ring, how her eyes darted across the mobile pickup with impatience. Her moves were small but deliberate, like she carried grace she wasn't aware of. She looked toned, her body was slim and her features were out of this world. She looked like a hallucination, thats how impossibly perfect she seemed.

A hand snaps in my face and I shake my head. Ben slaps my arm lightly "What are you..." He trailed off following my eyes. He looks at her then me, her then me. A bigger smile tugs at my lips. I could feel my heart pound faster as her eyes darted at an hot order being placed. She step forward, grabbed it, looked at label, smiled briefly, thanked the lady then stared to walk off. She pulls out a pair a dark sunglasses and slides them on. I get up and thoughts run in my head. Geez she made my whole brain stop working. "Where the hell are you going?" Ben said confused as I clear my throat. I have no plan, no clever words, but something inside me tugged to not let me lose this. I quickly go through the crowd of people trying to beep my eye on her as she effortlessly walks past everyone. I've been with plenty of girls, this should be simple. Something in my stomach bubbles telling me otherwise.

"Uh-hey!" I say finally catching up to the mystery women. She looked up from her phone and turned around., her gaze landing on me. suddenly I'm conscious of everything. I'm sweaty, my hair is a mess, do I have fruit in my teeth? A look of maybe surprise catches on her, her eyebrows draw in. "...yes?" She says slightly curious.
The faint scent of vanilla and coffee linger around her. I scramble for words.
Wait.
I'm the "famous" racer...why am I so nervous? If anything she should be trembling like the cashier from earlier who could barely meet my eye. It's not every day that a person like strikes a conversation. I've been in front of too many cameras to not know how to introduced myself.

"I didn't know they let people in early, You here to watch the race or you waiting for someone?" I ask smoothly.
She pushes down her sunglasses revealing her sharp eyes, blue and green spilling from them. "Waiting?" She repeated, her tone amused and confused. I nervously chuckled at the tone. Shit, did i just underestimate her?
"Sorry your working? If so you would put all the rest to shame. Don't tell me you're a mechanic?" I ask my smile slightly faltering. "Sorry to ask, do you know who I am?" She asked taking her sunglasses completely off and meeting me with a smile, revealing a tooth gem. My heart falls out my ass. "No but I would love too" i said in a flirty tone sticking my hand out. She looks down, chuckles softly and shakes it. Her laugh is warm and effortless.

"You uh, your a fan of the Red Bulls I see?" I say gesturing to her hat. She chuckles and shift her food to her other hand. "Yea, your a driver for Ferrari I see, Aiden right?" She asked tilting her head. I smile and rub my neck.
"Yea I am. You're a fan?"
"Nope it's just plastered all over your jacket"
"oh." I mutter slightly embarrassed.
"And I just saw you on tv a few minutes ago." She finishes her thought. Ah, the interview.

"Oh yea, I didn't know it was live?" I said putting my hands in my pockets. "Yea...you have a rival on Red Bull?" She asked her tone laced with sarcasm and mock curiosity. I chuckle and nodded.

"Apparently yea. Haven't met the guy yet but I'm sure it'll be the same as every other time."
"The guy?"
"You know, The man, whatever he wants to be called. No offense to your team but, I'm kinda known as the golden boy" "really?" She says raising a brow.
"Yup I have to grind and win"
"wow"she mumbled her tone unreadable.

I shift on my feet trying to keep the conversation going. "Yea that's what I love about this sport. "You might not understand now but this is intense. The training, eating requirements, it's hard. It's gets so hot in the car, and for two straight hour you have to stay heated" I explain.
She tilts her head, listening closely, her expression thoughtful. "Interesting" she says nodding slightly.
"I could get you vip passes if you want, let you in the garage and maybe you could even try to race a car." I say smiling harder. She raises a brow. "Thanks" she draws out taking a step back. "I don't think I ever caught your name Ms..?" I asked. She smiles and her grin widen as she answered.

“Ashlyn banner-your newest competition”

Chapter Text

"Im Ashlyn banner, your newest competition."

My heart sank into my organs. Ashlyn banner. My so called rival isn't a man, it her.

I freeze, the weight of the words hitting me like a brick. Ashlyn banner, the Ashlyn banner. My so called rival, the one I just downplayed in an interview, then right to HER FACE, is standing in front of me. My nerves spike.

She tilts her head slightly, clearly enjoying the moment as she studies my reaction. "Speechless?" She teases. Her face is laced with annoyance, mocking, and mischievous. I recover quickly, or try to. "Well I didn't expect my competitor would be a-"

"A women?" She interrupted, her smile now sharp and challenging me.

"No!- I mean kinda- that's not what I meant at all." I blurt out trying to salvage what I already ruined. My mouth is running faster than my brain. Ashlyn titled her head and crossed her arms. "Well then what did you mean Clark?Im dying to know." I exhale sharply to grab my composure that I can see trying to fly away. "I meant that i wasn't expecting my rival to be..well you.? You didn't match the description in my head, I'll say that" I said taking a step closer. "Right," she replied, sarcastically dragging the word out. "Because I'm not some buff general guy in a fire suit." She added. Ow, that hurt. For a second I have no idea how to reply. My smile staggers I rub my neck. "Look, all im saying is that you caught me off guard, I have no doubt you cant race" I replied. She leans to the side with casual dominance. "So Clark, do you always go around underestimating your competition or am I just special?" She asked smugly.

I feel my cheeks burn, but I fight to keep it together. "Special, obviously. I mean how many of my rivals have ever passed me, better yet keep up with me?" I said my smile widening. "Oh I'll do more than that, but keep up the illusions, they are going to be your best friends." She says naturally as if they roll off her tongue. Clearly she hasn't gotten much pr training, but she can clap back fast. "Confidence, I like it" i say trying to hold my ground.

"That only get you so far when the green light hits." 

She laughed and nodded. "Trust me, I have skill to back it up." Before I can respond she sighs and looks at her watch. "Well, this has been... enlightening to the kind of person I will be going up against, but my food is getting cold and I have places to be." She says taking a step back. "And what kind of person am I?" I asked intrigued. She looks me straight In my eye. "The cocky kind that underestimates me" she says stabbing me with one last smirk before turning on her heel, walking away with the same grace that caught my attention in the first place. My gaze lingers on her before she disappears in the crowd. I exhale sharply, not even knowing how much breath I was holding and retreat back to my table with Ben.

Ben raises his brows in confusion. I drop down to my seat and run my hand through my hair. "So..you ask her out?" Ben asked oblivious to what just happened. "No, no I didn't." I say definitely. Ben bugs for more information. "Turns out she..." I hesitated. My pride wares with realization. Ben shakes his head. "Turns out she's.?" He asked. "She's my rival, and I might have accidentally insulted her" i admit. Ben fork freezes in mid air. "That's...Ashlyn banner? The Ashlyn who just got signed for Red Bull? That rival?" Ben said in shock. Sigh and lean back in my chair. "Yea" I said empty. "You just hit on your rival? Oh this is priceless." Ben said giggling.

"I didn't hit on her" i shot back. Ben shrugged. "She was sharp" I admitted. "Quick on her feet, even quicker with comebacks.

Didn't flinch nor back down, you would think she would be nervous but....she was confident and even called me out" I said remembering her eyes. "Sounds like she got under your skin." Ben said picking at his food. "Let's just hope she can back all that up on the track" i sighed as her face plays in my mind. She says my name so quick and edge.

"Oh your screwed." Ben laughed whipping the pasta sauce from his face. "Not screwed just...motivated.

Chapter Text

Ashlyn’s POV:

I finally make it back to my air-conditioned room, dropping my food on the coffee table with a loud thud. A heavy sigh escapes me as I slump into the couch. What just happened? I cannot believe I had to deal with that. Did I expect the reigning three-time championship winner to be a cocky, self-absorbed prick? Absolutely. But did I really expect him to not even know who I am and then go ahead and try to hit on me? That’s something straight out of a poorly written romance novel.

I joined Red Bull last year, and my life has been a whirlwind ever since. My schedule is a constant blur of press events, training, and appearances. And on top of it all, being a woman in a male-dominated field? Yeah, it’s a lot harder than people think. It took years to build my name and my credibility in this sport. And as much as I hate to admit it, my looks haven’t exactly hurt in that department. Sure, it’s nice to get attention, but not when it’s from people who see me as a gimmick rather than a serious competitor.

The weird questions, the odd interactions with fans, the uncomfortable moments in the pit—all of it’s starting to wear on me. Some days, I wonder if I’m good enough for all of this. I know I’ve worked hard, and I’m confident in my skills, but I’ve had my fair share of doubts. At least I’m becoming a name for other women who want to break into this sport, and that gives me a little more strength to keep going. I remind myself that I’m here for a reason—because I’m talented.

I throw my hat on the coffee table, letting my hair fall loose. Aiden’s grin flashes in my mind. God, what a fool he was. The whole thing was so… ridiculous. First, he didn’t even recognize me, and then he said he could “maybe show me how to drive”? Is it really that hard to believe it’s my job to fucking drive? I’m not some rookie he can patronize. It’s infuriating that he thought he could just brush me off, as if I’m some pretty face in a racing suit.

I have to admit, though, his smile was disarmingly nice. I almost let it get to me for a second, but then I remembered exactly who he is. The smug, untouchable champion, who probably thinks he owns the entire sport.

My PR team warned me about him—about his fanbase, his reputation, the way he carries himself. They said to tread carefully when dealing with him, but after today? I’m over it. He clearly has no idea how I am OR how I race. He’s just another competitor. The fact that he even got under my skin is just ridiculous. I’m not some nervous rookie, and I shouldn’t have to justify myself to him.

We’re rivals. Plain and simple. It’s not like it matters. If anything, it’ll make our race days even more interesting. 

My phone buzzes, and Taylor’s contact pops up on the screen. One of my closest friends and, more importantly, my lead mechanic. I pick up, already anticipating her excitement.

“Hey,” I sigh, leaning back in my chair, exhausted.

“Oh my god, you and Aiden talked?!” Taylor yells into the phone, her excitement practically vibrating through the call. I immediately pull the phone away from my ear, wincing at the volume. Then I freeze. “Wait, how do you—”

“It’s ALLLL over F1 news! Paparazzi photos are everywhere, and you looked super put together,” Taylor hums, a teasing edge to her voice. “Him, on the other hand? Eh, he looked like he was trying way too hard to impress you.”

My eyes widen. No way. “I JUST left the cafeteria—how did they even get those photos?!” I yell, confused and annoyed.

“Probably some nosy fans or paparazzi just itching to share anything,” she laughs, but I hear the unmistakable sound of drills and clanking metal in the background.

“Are you working on the car right now?” I ask, the stress creeping into my voice.

She hums affirmatively. “Yeah, getting a few tweaks done before tomorrow.”

I shake my head. “I’m coming down,” I mutter, already grabbing my keys. “This is insane.” I hang up, not bothering to waste any more time on the crazy photo frenzy.

Chapter Text

Aiden pov:

I push open the door, and the roar of engines bounces off the walls. My dad sighs, patting my shoulder as he passes. "Focus today," he says, his tone clipped. I watch him flick a piece of lint off his tie before shaking hands with a man nearby. I groan quietly. "Focus today," as if I don't do that every single time. "How about you get out my ass?" I mutter, adjusting my heavy duffel bag.

Heading toward the Ferrari garage, I toss the bag onto a seat. "How's everyone doing today?" I ask, forcing a big, fake smile like always, it's probably won me more points than my actual skill. My team looks up from their tasks and smiles back. I pat a few backs as I walk through."It's been rough," one of the mechanics says, wiping sweat from his brow. He's the youngest one out the bunch, 17 I think. "I'm sure you're doing great, I can feel it." I reply, walking past and softly ruffling his hair out.

An engine screams as a car tears down the track, passing our garage in a blur. My team's attention shifts to the car, its precision through the corners impossible to ignore. Damn, that's fast. Whoever's driving knows what they're doing. The flash of red on the car reminds me of a few days ago—and of Ashlyn. Part of me cringes at the memory, wishing I'd never have to see her again. But another part of me is... intrigued. She's sharp, holds her own, even against me. There's something about her.

The Red Bull garage is alive with energy. Their crew buzzes around screens, analyzing data with sharp focus and excitement. My gaze lands on a guy in glasses, close to my age, gesturing at a screen while chatting with a woman who looks strangely familiar. They both whisper something then laugh. "That girl on Red Bull's team looks just like... you," I say, nudging Tyler's shoulder. He barely glances up from his clipboard, smirking. "Yeah, idiot. I have a twin. She joined Red Bull last summer. Don't you remember me talking about her?". I stay quiet. Tyler talks a lot—I've learned to tune him out—he just goes on and on and ON. "I must've missed it, it was probably in one of your TED talks about tire rotation or something like that." I said before Tyler makes a hard elbow to my chest.

The car roars past again, a blur of speed and precision. "Who's driving?" I ask, leaning against a tool cart. "Red Bull," Tyler answers, nudging me back. "They've been putting up impressive times this morning. Matches your practice runs from last season."

I squinted my eyes at the car finishing its last turn and began to slow. It could be Ashlyn....or her teammate who I can't seem to even care about. Whoever was behind the wheel was surgical with their driving. There was control. I relax a bit. I didn't stay a 3 world championship winner to not know key points about driving. Whoever is behind the wheel is good at turns but I can't tell if they would be aggressive with others. The car pulls into the Red Bull garage and the driver climbs out. My eyes stay locked as ashlyn tugs off her helmet, shaking lose stands from her lose ponytail. Her face looked flush from the heat, and sweat was dabbled on his forehead, catching the sunlight. She unzipped the small fire jacket revealing She a fitting tank top that showed off her toned body and a pair of grease stained cargoes hanging low on her hips.

She tosses her jacket onto a table and gestures toward the car, her team gathering around as she explains something. Even from this distance, I can tell how effortlessly she commands their attention—not by raising her voice, but by the way she holds herself. It's... mesmerizing. Time seems to slow as she leans over the car, pointing at the rear wing. Her movements are fluid, natural. The way she talks, her hand gestures—it's captivating. My pulse quickens, and I catch myself staring.

What am I doing? I think I fumbled why too hard to come back from our last conversation, and we've only talked once. Shaking my head, I run a hand through my hair. “Clark, you ready?" Tyler's voice cuts through my thoughts, grounding me. My smile widens and i push on my helmet. “Born for it”
———————————

I grab my towel and wipe the sweat off my head. “How did I do?” I asked Tyler. “Madvrick is about to pull up your stats” Tyler said sipping on a coke. I hear heavy steps and straighten up. Madvrick is my uncle and half the reason I’m even in this position. He’s strictly my race analyst and I only see him at races and practices. My dad talks about him so highly but I don’t think I’ve ever seen them talk about anything OTHER than f1. Madvrick takes out his iPad and taps a few times before he stares at it for a few seconds. Tyler gives me a nervous look.

God help me.
“You and Ashlyn have nearly the same times” he said sternly swiping on the iPad. “Nearly?” I asked tightness spreading over my body. “She has more control and is fast, but you’re a little more fast” . My heart drops. Has anyone ever come that close to beating me? Don’t think that, you’re still ahead. “But you’re messy, you nearly took the car out of section 2. Fix it” he said meeting my eyes. My smile falters for a moment. “Got it, wont disappoint.” I said giving him a nod and striding away confidently. My nerves spike and my breathing picks up. Was I really that messy? It’s cause she’s here…..she’s messing me up. I glance back over at red bull’s garage. Mechanics run around, writing things down, grabbing tools, and working on parts. Others gather around at screens and talk like politicians. I let out a heavy sigh as I scoped out for her. Did she leave already? My eyes dart until they lock. Ashlyn’s leaned up against a wall, sipping water while she talks to the blonde guy with glasses.

My tongue presses against the inside of my cheek. Who is that? Her head turns and she catches me watching- of course she does. She looks me up and down as they talk and a small but steady smile slightly spreads on her face before she turns back over to face him. It wasn’t a friendly smile, it was more like a…..cocky smile. She must know about our times matching up. I chuckled under my breath leaning against a wall. “What did i say about focusing today?” My dad says stepping to stand next to me. I flinch slightly. When did he even get here?! “I am.” I say knocking my head to the side as I look at the track. “Your uncle told me about that score, matches up with the redhead over there, am I wrong?” He asked. I breathe in. “You have 3 more laps to dial the setups. Let’s hurry and get this done with.” He finished walking away back to the analysis. “Yea yea” I mutter under my breath turning around. I hear a laugh. My eyes dart back to her.

“Aiden? Hello? Can we get this going so I can go and get my lunch? Actually I heard about this new place around the corner on the strip, we could go and grab-“ Tyler starts as he grabs the hem of my shirt and pulls me.

I can’t help it.

“Give me 10” I said throwing my helmet off to the side as I start walking over to her pit.

She spots me as soon as I walk even remotely in her direction, her eyes narrow but she doesn’t take a step back, if anything she straightens. “Nice lines out there, banner” i said as my smirk widens. “For someone new” I said casually leaning on the wall. Her face stays bland, like she’s already bored. “Coming from the “golden boy” who nearly crashed in a wall on turn 5? Shit should be taking that as compliment?” She says turning to face me completely. The blonde boy lets out a low whistle as he adjusted his glasses. “Give us a sec Logan, I’ll be there in a minute” she says crossing her arms and not breaking eye contact. “Gotcha” Logan says as he walks backwards back to the car. Her comeback was sharper than expected. “Touché” i admitted. “Just checking up on you, must be overwhelming since it’s the beginning of the series.” I said trying recover. “No no, you’re so right. All this confusing turning to the left and even harder to the right. I might have to take up those GENEROUS driving lessons you gave up to me a few days back- clearly I’m not made for a field like this.” She deadpanned sarcastically. I let out a chuckle. “Love your humor! You’re going to need it when all you see is my taillights all season” I said confidently. Some members of the red bull team look up from there task and esedrop, “oh wow original! You have your team write that down for you?” She said a tinge louder. “Hey I’m just trying to help.” I said putting my hands up. She tilts her head a little. “Oh no I appreciate it Clark” she starts. “I love it when someone comes up to me as I’m picking up my lunch and insults me, and I LOVE it when they also come over here to talk down to me for no reason. Super motivating.” She says taking a step closer.

I laugh buts it’s more forced now. “Not talking down, just being reliable. This is how to talk to all my rivals, did you want to be treated differently? You’re good but at this level it’s….different. Takes alot to win, especially against me” i said taking a step closer to her. “Right because you’re the only person in f1 history who has worked hard, give me a damn break. Please keep telling me about your tragic struggles of being a NEPO baby, pretty boy who has zero idea how it is to not have connections to anyone in this industry and climb their way up on their own, go on Im listening.” She says in a bland tone. Okay, that one stings a bit….more than a bit. People part of my team turn their heads and look at each other nervously. I watch as a small smirk tugs on her face. I shrug trying to keep it light. “Pretty boy huh? Im just saying it’s not as easy as it looks”. She shrugs right back raising a brow. “Good thing I wasn’t expecting it to be easy- I’ll try not to hurt your feelings when you nearly get beat.” She said taking a sip of her water.

I blinked almost caught off guard. “Confident, huh?” I said watching her shrug. “Am I not allowed to or is that reserved for you and you only?” She asked taking a finger and picking my chest. I open my mouth to retort something but nothing comes to mind. She’s good, better than good. Her confidence is loud or flashy, not even in a joking way like mine. It’s just there like a solid wall. “Guess we will see soon, won’t we?” I say finally, my voice coming out tighter than expected. “She took a step back. “Guess we will, don’t let this keep you up a night Clark.” She said giving me one last smug smile before turnning on her heels and walking away. She gets the last word, again. This was just like our last interaction. I watch her walk off as my jaw tightened. I’ve had a fair share of rivals but I’ve never felt so much…tension. I always feel indifferent, they were never too good but now I’m threatened. She’s good at driver and comebacks.

“Clark!” My dad snaps from our garage. Dragging me back to reality. I make my way back to my garage. My mind racing as fast as other cars on the paddock. How has she already gotten under my skin?

This season just got much more interesting.

Chapter Text

The paddock was electric with the energy of the first race of the season. The roar of engines, the sharp smell of fuel, and the buzz of fans in the grandstands—it was familiar, almost comforting. I’d been here before. Opening day wasn’t just a race, it was a stage to remind the world why I’d been champion for the last three years. It’s to set the tone of the rest of the season, who is the worst, the best, most aggressive. Like first impressions.

Leaning against my car, arms crossed, I watched the pit lane with calm confidence. My team was working efficiently, as they always did, final checks and tweaks to ensure the car was perfect. I trusted them. I trusted me. This was my domain, what I do best.

“Alright, champ, feeling good?” my race engineer, Liam I think, walked over with his usual easygoing attitude, headset perched around his neck.

I smirked. “Good? I feel great. First race of the season—time to set the tone.”

“Bold words,” Liam said, raising an eyebrow. “But I guess that’s why you’re you. Though, I’m guessing you’ve noticed a certain Red Bull driver getting a lot of attention lately.”

My eyes flicked to Ashlyn Banner, standing with her team a few stalls over. She looked hooked on her crew chief, razor focused while looking relaxed, helmet hanging casually at her side. The media had been all over her since preseason testing, calling her “the one to watch.” Not like media has been all over me, iv been getting swarmed with reporters. She’s just getting a little too much attention.

“Yeah, I’ve noticed,” I said coolly, turning back to Liam. “Let them hype her up. Testing and racing are two different beasts. I’ve done this for years. She’s a rookie. Everyone can calm down.”

“True, but you know how the fans are,” Liam teased, grinning. “They love a fresh face. And she’s got the whole underdog thing going for her. Plus, let’s be honest—she knows how to work the cameras.”

The hell was that supposed to mean? I can work the cameras better than she ever will.

I snorted. “Yeah, she’s good at playing the part. But that won’t help her when the lights go out.”

“Careful,” Liam warned, half-joking. “That kind of confidence has a way of biting people.”

I shot him a look. “It’s not confidence. It’s facts. I’ve been here before, I’ve won here before. She’s untested. I’ve got nothing to worry about.”

But even as I said it, I found myself glancing back at her. Ashlyn caught my gaze and tilted her head slightly, as if daring me to look away. Then she raised a hand in a little wave—not friendly, not mocking, just…calm.

“She’s not nervous,” Liam said, catching the moment.

“She should be,” I muttered, breaking eye contact and focusing on my car instead.

“Well, let’s see if she stays that way when you’re breathing down her neck on the track,” Liam said, slapping me on the shoulder before heading back to the garage.

He always try’s to dad me, before any game. Guess he caught onto my dad not being so… how do you say it, not being like a dad.

I took a deep breath, grounding myself. This was just another race. Another rookie with a lot to prove, thinking they could take me on. It wasn’t personal. Iv been there, trying your best to improve and impress.

And yet, there was something about her that gnawed at the back of my mind. She wasn’t cocky, wasn’t flustered, wasn’t giving anything away. Most rookies either came in too hot or too timid. Ashlyn Banner was neither. She was…different. Calm but confident, graceful but aggressive.

But different or not, she was still new. And I’d spent years turning “next big things” into just another name on the grid. Into nothing.

She wanted to make a statement? Fine. But today, I’d make mine louder.

_______________

The roar of engines reverberated through the circuit, the crowd’s deafening cheers setting my pulse on edge. I tightened my grip on the steering wheel, the hum of my car beneath me as familiar as my own heartbeat. my eyes locked onto Ashlyn Banner in her Red Bull car, her visor down, posture calm. She looked like she belonged here, like she owned the track. That grated on me.

“Focus, Aiden,” my race engineer, Liam, said over the comms. “Same strategy as usual. Just keep ahead and manage your tires.”

“Relax,” I replied, adjusting the paddle shifters. “I got it, I’ll handle her.” He didn’t need to ask to know who I’m talking about.

The lights counted down. Three. Two. One. Green.

I launched off the line with precision, my car surging forward. My smile widened under my helmet. For the first few corners, I stayed in control, ahead of the pack. The familiar rhythm of the race settled over me, my confidence rising. Ashlyn was close behind, but she wasn’t pressing yet. What did I say, I thought with a smirk.

Lap after lap

Lap 3

Lap6

Lap15

My crew gave me updates about what’s ahead.

Lap 17

Lap24

I stop at the pit stop and hear my team quickly drill off my old tires. I lift up my helmet and squeeze some water in my mouth lazily. This season will be no different.

“Go!”

“You’ve got a three-second lead over Banner,” Liam said in the com as I sped off. I shake my head as sped puddles off my forhead.

“Easy work,” I replied, my tone smug. “Told you she wouldn’t keep up.”

“You are on lap 27, there’s 44 in total so I wouldn’t expect things to be easy. The rest of the cars are pushing. Barron is getting aggressive with the other cars.”

Barron, could never figure out his last name. He proclaims we are rivals but I’m way to out his lead that he gets shut out in everything. He’s a prick, the only thing he’s good at is causing other cars to crash and trash talking. We don’t talk much, he tries to get some conversations in with me but I don’t pay him much attention.

Lap 35

My hands losen on the wheel and I sigh. Thank god I won’t be getting a “do better” talk from my parents today. My eyes dart as I turn a corner and slightly slip.

“Careful” one of my race analysts says in the com. “You are almost…how the hell-!” The analysis says confused. What is this idiot on about? Coming out of a sharp chicane, I saw a car creep up to mine. Red, redbull. She was closer. Too close.

“She’s closing the gap,” Liam warned.

“She’s pushing too early,” I said, shaking my head. “She’ll burn her tires out.” My eyes still dart to her and my breath picks up. How did she catch up so fast… that nearly impossible.

A Lap40

she was right on my tail, her car darting into my blind spots. God how the fuck has her tires not been chucked up by now!  “Banner’s getting aggressive,” Liam said. “Don’t let her rattle you.”

I gritted my teeth, holding the line as she tried to overtake me on the inside of Turn 4. “She’s not rattling me!” I snapped, though my grip on the wheel tightened. “Damnit” I mummer to myself. Something in my stomach twist, something I haven’t felt in years.

Uncertainty.

As we hit the straights, I felt the pressure mounting. She was fast—too fast. The tension crackled between us like electricity, our cars inches apart. I could almost feel her presence, even with the roar of my engine drowning everything else out. It like she’s sitting right next to me, giving me that gaze that feels like I’m about to fuck up.

Lap 41

So close to finish, I need to relax..clam down-

she made her move. Out of nowhere, she dived into the inside of Turn 7, her car barely brushing mine as she slipped past.

“She’s ahead,” another race analysts popped in. “Don’t let her pull away.”

I cursed under my breath for what’s felt like the 74 time in the last 10 minutes. gunning it out of the corner to stay with her. For the first time, doubt crept in. How was she this good? She just started actually competing the same time I won my first championship.

Lap after lap, I pushed harder, trying to find a way past her. But she was flawless, her car gliding through the corners with precision. Every time I thought I had an opening, she shut the door. My mind goes blank.

“Come on, Aiden,” someone urged through the com. “You’ve got this. Just stay close. She might crack under pressure.”

“Well it looks to me she’s not going to!” I replied harshly. If anything, she seemed to thrive on it.

“Fuck..” I mumble to myself as I sped up.

By the final lap, it was just the two of us. The rest of the pack was far behind, and the entire race had come down to this. The crowd was on its feet, their cheers a thunderous wave. People jump up and down, yelling, screaming. She won’t win, I can’t let her. My heart is beating out of my chest.

We barreled into the final corner, my car inches behind hers. I took the inside line, pushing to the limit, but she held her position, her car perfectly placed. Move!

As we hit the straight, I floored it, the finish line rushing toward us. It was close—so close I could feel the victory.

And then it was over. Our cars both slid past the finish line.

My breath hitched as I look over to her. She does the same and I feel us lock eyes even with the visor down. “Who won.” I ask my team not breaking eye contact.

The tension in the whole stadium built as we all wait.

As if me and Ashlyn are the only two people in the world.

“We don’t know, they are replaying on the big screen. My head snaps to it and Ashlyn does the same. The crowd is dead quiet as we all await the same answer. Who won?

The screen replays to our cars, thrusting themselves at the line. So quick y ohh y could miss it. They replay it but in slow motion. My yellow car slides, her black and red car stays put…and you could miss it but, her car crossed first, by inches.

The crowd erupted as she took her first win. I pulled into the pit lane, my chest tight with frustration. I just lose, I just lose the first race of the season. My team was congratulating me for a solid performance, but their voices felt distant. My eyes were locked on Ashlyn as she climbed out of her car.

I’m a fucking idiot. How could I do this, by inches.

She was radiant, like she was glowing. her smile relaxed and soft as her team swarmed her, celebrating her victory. Some would touch her shoulders or attempt to hug her but she would swiftly pull away. She pulled off her helmet, her hair spilling out, and I hated she made it looked. She looked out of breath, sweat dripping off, but somehow she still made it look effortless.

I climbed out of my car, yanking my helmet off, my jaw tight. I watched her from across the paddock, her laugh cutting through the noise. We make eye contact and her eyes widen for a moment as she mouthed “good game” to me. She swiftly turned her head back to her team and waved as her faced showed up in all of the big screens.

What so she’s humble to?

I turned away, my chest burning and smile faltering by the second. I didn’t need her “good game”. I wasn’t used to losing, and seeing her so damn happy about it only made it worse. My smile was tense urgently trying to stop, just so I could frown for a moment. I didn’t let it, pushing it to stay big.

“She got lucky,” I muttered under my breath. But deep down, I wasn’t so sure.

Chapter Text

Aiden’s pov:

The hotel room is dimly lit, the only source of light coming from the TV screen. I should turn it off—I should do anything other than sit here and listen to them talk about it, but I can’t. The commentators’ voices are sharp, each word like a fresh cut to my pride.

“A shocking start to the season, as Aiden Clark, Ferrari’s golden boy, fails to secure the victory. Instead, all eyes are on the underdog, Ashlyn Banner, who not only held her own but completely dominated in her debut race.”

I clench my jaw. Dominated? That’s a stretch. Yeah, she won—but it wasn’t like I wasn’t right there, pushing, pressuring her the whole time.

“Is this the beginning of the end for Clark? Has the once untouchable champion finally met his match?”

I grab the remote and nearly throw it at the tv. “Yea yea one race and I’m already being sent into retirement? Bullshit” I laughed tightly. This is ridiculous. One race—one damn race—and they’re already acting like I’m done for? Like my three championships mean nothing because some rookie happened to cross the line first? What a joke.

“Turn that off.” My mother’s voice cuts through the room like ice. She’s sitting at the desk, arms crossed, the disapproval radiating off of her. My father stands next to her, his expression unreadable but just as suffocating.

A nervous chuckle echoes through the hotel by me.

“You should have won that,” she continues, shaking her head. “This—this is embarrassing for you, for us, for Ferrari. How do you let someone like her beat you?”

I grit my teeth trying to keep my smile up. Someone like her. That’s the part that stings the most. Because I don’t even know what that means. I should be furious that I lost—furious at myself—but instead, all I can think about is how content I feel. Yes, I’m frustrated at myself, disappointed I lose, but I feel….pumped? It’s been so long where someone has pushed me to do better, to try to outrace them. Usually I win it all but now, now I have something to prove that she’s not all people are saying.

she wasn’t supposed to win. she wasn’t supposed to beat me.

“I didn’t let her do anything,” I snap back. “She was fast. I made a few mistakes. It happens. I have more races to win, it won’t happen again.” I said sneaking a laugh into the last bit.

“You don’t make mistakes,” my father finally speaks, his voice even but firm. “Not you. Not Aiden Clark. You’re better than this.”

I scoff, running a hand through my hair. “Yeah? Well, guess what? It happened. She won. What do you want me to do, go back in time and change it? Take a visit to some kind of hunted house and travel to an alternate dimension where everything is different?”

My mother exhales sharply, looking away as if she can’t stand to even look at me right now. That—that—somehow pisses me off more than losing.

“We expect better,” my father says, and then they leave, just like that.

I let out a bitter laugh, shaking my head. We expect better. Right. Because being a three-time world champion isn’t enough for them. Because I’m Aiden Clark, the golden boy, and I’m not supposed to lose. Iv dedicated my whole life to this, and the thing is that I’m not even sure I like it.

“That’s for the pep talk, mom and dad” I mummer.

I glance back at the TV, just in time to see a clip of Ashlyn on the podium awkwardly holding a champagne bottle, slightly smiling as the crowd cheers around her. Like she wasn’t just some underdog, if only I hadn’t realized she was a threat yet.

And maybe that’s what gets to me the most. Not just that she won. Not just that she proved the world wrong.

But that, for the first time in my life, I was the one being doubted.

The tv switches to me, jumping out my car, throwing off my helmet as I run my hands through my hair.
I get up and turn the tv off. If that’s how things are sure, I’ll take the lose but I won’t make it so easy next time. My smile widens thinking about my next move of action.

Chapter Text

Ash pov/flashback:

I pull into the dock my sweat soaking me, my hands trembling and blistering from how hard I was holding the wheel. I unclamp my seatbelt and hop out, my heat beats as I hear my instructor sigh from behind me. He stood there, shaking his head like I’m some kind of disappointment.

“Again,” he said bluntly looking down at the sheet of my times.

I laughed, not because it’s funny but because of how ridiculous this is. How long have I been at this?, since the morning? It’s so late everyone else is gone, in their beds asleep. But here I am, still sitting here pushing myself past the limit, breaking my scores.
“Come on, iv been at this for hours.” I said hands on my knees to suck up all the air I can get.

“And your times still aren’t good enough” he said cutting through the air. “Your sharp, banner. But you’re not fast enough, slow on the corners, slow on the exits. What do you think an actual f1 race will be like?” He said standing above me his dark eyes not even sparing me a glance.

I clenched my teeth. I knew what an actual race would be like. I’d been training for it, killing myself for it. And yet—

“God, give me some grace here, It’s 3 in the morning! I have school, my grades are starting to slip because I’m spending all my time here.” I snapped.
“I’m always here, always pushing, always trying to be perfect—while everyone else gets breaks, gets time to recover! I’m exhausted, coach!

“You think exhaustion is an excuse?” He scoffed, shaking his head. “The guys you’ll be racing against? They don’t care if you’re tired. You think Verstappen, Hamilton, Leclerc ever complained they were exhausted? Grow up banner, your lucky you even got in this program, your lucky you even get to be in my presence. I’m the best person here who can get you to any competition you want, that’s why I chose you to be my student, not because any bullshit tiredness”

That did it, set something off in me. “Yea but out of all those people you just named, they had teams backing them up and weren’t you only person in their damn program fighting for a place? You know damn well I’m the only girl here,
I don’t get to have second chances, I don’t get to have a bad day! It’s always ‘prove yourself’ over and over again. You don’t think I know that?” I snap back taking a step towards him.

sick of it. Sick of acting like I had to be twice as good just to get half the respect. Sick of killing myself on this track and still having him act like I wasn’t good enough. For fuck sake u have the best times out of all the people in my age category, and I’m only 15?

He just folded his arms, expression unreadable. “Then prove yourself.”

I exhaled sharply, shaking my head. He wasn’t hearing me. He never did.

“I am.”

A long silence. Then, he looked me right in the eye, voice cold as steel. His dark curls slightly moving in the cold breeze of the night.

“You’re not F1 material, Banner. You never will be. If you were smart, you’d give up now. What did you say you did half your life? Ballet was it? Maybe you should go back to that.”

The words hit like a punch to the gut. My breath stilled, my pulse roaring in my ears.
He raised a brow “I have a nephew who that same age as you, he got accepted into a more prestigious program then this. He’s good, truth is his half the reason he even got in was because his parents are rich. He has the passion, and drive, just the same as you. Do you really want to be under someone who was handed everything while you have to claw your way up?” He asked.

I didn’t flinch. I just swallowed the anger, the exhaustion, the doubt he was trying to shove down my throat.

“So what?” I shot back. “You want me to quit because I wasn’t born into the right family? Because I don’t have a last name that opens doors for me?”

He shrugged lightly. “I’m saying the world isn’t fair, Banner. And in this sport? It’s damn near impossible for someone like you to make it. No connections, no wealthy parents, no team willing to bet on you. Unless something changes your just wasting your time”

I stared at him, my pulse hammering. He meant it. He truly believed I didn’t stand a chance.

Good. Let him think that.

I stepped closer, voice low but steady. “Then I’ll change it.”

he frowned. “What?”

“You said unless something changes. Fine—I’ll be the one to change it. I’ll work twice as hard. I’ll push myself past every limit. I don’t need a last name or a rich family—I just need to be so good they have no choice but to take me.”

He studied me for a long period. He sighed. “Then get back in the car”

Without another word, I turned, strapped myself back into the car, and hit the gas.

————-

Ashlyn pov:

The sound of people walking past me pulls me out my thoughts. My hairs stand up on my arm as I force that memory out.

Press days.

Im not really one to like attention, I’m good with it but I avoid it. Was a slightly weird decision for me to decide to go into an industry where you are in a spotlight? Yes, but iv always been competitive, always wanted to be the best.

Last press was before the first race, I did fine at answering questions but now that their this “rivalry” going on between me and Clark, I’m sure they are going to pair up my team with his. My teammate, marcas is a pretty shy and keeps to himself, so it’s really just more questions for me to answer, which is honestly very annoying.

I press my redbull hat down farther down trying to get my thoughts together, remembering how my press team told me how to answer hard questions. we wait for them to call us out to the tables where we will sit down and answer any dumb questions they want, and now that I just broke Clarks 3 year first race winning streak? There are going to be even harder questions, urging me to answer them. I can’t help but wonder how hes doing….last I saw of him he looked pretty pissed about it. Then again, it’s Clark. Most things I hear about him is that he likes a game. I shake my head, hard. What am I doing?

I’m here to win, not waist my time about others feelings.

I hear the crowds mummer go down as the speaker talks on the mic. “Welcome back to formals race press!” The man yells on the mic. “After last weeks first race with an astonishing win by Ashlyn banner, the stakes are high and big. The two teams we have with us today are the Ferrari and redbull, bring them out!”

The lady next to me pats my shoulder and motions me to go. I breath in, then out, putting on a confident smile as my teammates walk out. I hear the crowds go crazy as I see the familiar look of bleach hair walk out with a Ferrari hat on.

Clark.

Chapter Text

Aiden pov:

I sit down in my seat, giving out a few more waves as the red bulls team settles in. The crowd starts cheering louder as someone else walks out, I catch a glimps of  a redbull hat, and I pair of red braids.

Ashlyn.

I’m not mad she beat me, frustrated yes, but I always like a new challenge.

The announcer clears his throat and smiles.

“Wow we have such amazing racers with us today! Now, you probably don’t need an introduction to these racers but just in case, on the left we have marcas Johnson, and last race winner Ashlyn banner!” He yells out as people erroup in the  crowd with cheer’s. People smile and wave, others clapped, more pulled out their phones and tried to get pictures. My poster stiffened in the seat.

They seems to like her.

Ashlyn smiles, waves back to a few fans, and the other boy meekly looks down at the desk. He clearly doesn’t pay attention in media training.

“On the right we have world record breaker, Thomas brown and 3 time champion Aiden Clark!” The man says into the mic. The crowd goes wild, jumping up and down, what I’m used to by now. People have always liked me. Maybe because my looks, maybe because my skill, maybe my smile.

The announcer settled back waiting for the cheers to die down. I sneak a glance at Ashlyn.  She looks relaxed, legs crossed with her hands resting on the table. She looks like she’s ment to be here.

I force my head forward.

The first qestions comes from a reporter in the front row. “How do you all feel about the last race?!” She yells out scrambling to write in her notebook.

THOMAS- it was definitely a good starting one. I’m disappointed that I’m a bit rusty, but what can I say. After below dad it’s a bit harder to get back on a track.

The crowd lightly laughed. Thomas always finds an excuse to mention his wife and kid. Makes me remember how big are age gap is. Have I even thought about what comes after racing?

MARCUS- um, it was very stressful but I’m sure next time I’ll be able to get closer..!

No, he clearly has gone to media training, he’s just not good at it. I open my mouth to speak.

AIDEN- it was sad to see my first game winning streak go, but I had fun for the time being. I’m still the same player as last year so I wouldn’t get too comfortable seeing me on the second place podium.

I smile and lean forward a bit, just so I can see Ashlyn. She looks unbothered, still glances at me and smiles. The reporters and crowd all exchanged looks waiting for her answer.

ASHLYN- it was great, first race iv ever done in this kind of situation and I won it. The win definitely felt good.

She turned her head slightly, just to say the last sentence with her eyes on me.  The reporters give each other glances, smiles spreading on their faces as they realize how intense this press is going to be. Thomas elbows me slightly giving me a small smirk. A smile back. This is going to be fun.

The second report speaks up. “ You all have been improving consistently—what’s been the key to your growth?”

THOMAS- Iv been doing this for a while, I would say the key is mindset. You can’t win if you can’t get out of your head.

AIDEN- that was a good one. Uh I would say my key is knowing your worth. If you  think you suck at racing and that you don’t know what your value then it’s going to be hard to improve because you already have this narrative about yourself”

MARCUS- ….i would say having support from friends and family. It helps alot to stay connected with the people around you.

Ashlyn sits perking her lips, like she trying to figure out how to answer the question.

ASHLYN- I would say my biggest motivation is the people who don’t believe in me. I had a Coach, long time ago, he would always tell me how I would never make it, and how I’m not built for this stuff. I think that kind of stuff really motivated me to push hard and, I mean look where I’m at now.

People in the room clapped and Marcus nodded his head next to her. That was as good answer I guess.

“How do you all feel about the fan support this weekend?”

AIDEN- ohh, its so great to see all the fans and what you all think about the race. Big thank you for sitting out in 100 degrees weather just to watch us

ASHLYN- it amazing and beyond grateful that people are so invested and supportive.

MARCUS-yea..yea it’s great-

THOMAS-i will never get enough of seeing it.

“This is more for Ashlyn and Aiden,” a reporter starts. I perk up in my seat more. “You two are known for being the faces of your teams, how do you feel about that?”

AIDEN- I’m over the moon. I still find a way to be excited about it even 4 years later. Very thankful that Ferrari give 17 year old me a chance to get out there and race, and let me just say that I was looking extra good at that poster.

The room giggles and I see girls in the crowds face get pink.

ASHLYN- yea like Aiden said it’s very exciting. I’m very grateful that they are giving this to me even if it’s my first year On the team and I promise to make it worth it.

“How does the result of last race affect your confidence moving forward?” A reporter, a man I think I recognize from BBZ news, asked.

My mind draws back to the news that was on the tv a few days ago.

THOMAS- I know that I can do better, and I entend  to show that.

MARCUS- I want to try to get better at-

AIDEN- well last race was-

ASHLYN- you didn’t let Marcus finish his sentence.

The crowd buzzes as I look over to Ashlyn.

“What?” I asked throwing a laugh in there. She leans closer to the mic in front of her, keeping eye contact. “You interrupted Marcus while he was talking, he did be able to finish his sentence” she said like it obvious. My eye brow raised as I nick my head to the side. “Sorry bud, didn’t notice, go ahead.” I said keeping eye contact with Ashlyn. I hear the cameras clip as the take photos.

MARCUS- uh…yes I want to get better at how safe I drive. I don’t like to damage the car and hate having to be aggressive.

AIDEN-okay now as I was saying, my confidence didn’t go down a bit. I just now know what I’m dealing with and how everyone plays.

ASHLYN-unlike some people, I don’t let winning get to my head. I know my strength and my weaknesses, and I know what I’m good at.

Unlike some people….was that a jab at me?! I smile and run my hands through my hair. Okay, time for me to up my scales a bit.

“Okay everyone has been sensing a good amount of rivalry between Clark and banner, do you guys think that will keep coming or will it eventually die down?” The announcer asked smiling while looking between me and Ashlyn.

THOMAS- iv been racing with Aiden for a while and, let me just say he’s very competitive and has a bright spirit.

MARCAS – “Uh… Ashlyn is a very talented driver, and—do I really have to answer this? This seems more like a question for them, and I’d rather not—”

AIDEN – “I’ve had plenty of rivals, and I’ll admit—this one is different from the rest. I know what I’m doing, and sometimes… people just get lucky and—”

ASHLYN – Right. Because I’m just some rookie who got lucky, right?

The crowd stirs, murmurs spreading through the room as I turn my head to face her. She’s watching me closely, waiting, challenging.

I exhale, keeping my expression unreadable.

AIDEN – No. You clearly have skill. But every rival I’ve ever had? None of them have ever come close to beating me in the championship.

Ashlyn’s lips curl into a small, knowing smirk. “Guess we’ll have to see about that, won’t we?”

The crowd erupts, reporters scribbling down notes, cameras flashing. She doesn’t break eye contact and neither do I.

The crowd is eating this up—some gasping, others whispering, cameras flashing like crazy. Thomas and Marcas shift uncomfortably beside us, clearly not wanting to be dragged into this.

The announcer clears his throat, looking between us  sensing how it’s escalating but also a hint of nervousness. “Alright, alright, let’s keep it civi here, leave all that for the track.

The last reporter jumped up. “To leave this on a fun note, if you weren’t in f1 what do you think you would be doing?”

THOMAS-I would probably be a stay at home dad, my wife loves to do things. She’s a great artist.

ASHLYN- I would probably still be doing my hobby, would maybe become an instructor for it.

AIDEN-…I haven’t really thought about that. My whole life has really just been f1, so maybe i would do something similar to this.

MARCUS- I would want to be a teacher, or maybe a janitor.

The announcer tarialed off and spoke, thanked us for coming and a few other things.

My whole life has been f1, what else would I be doing? My mind trails back to Ashlyn and our little spur a few minutes ago.

We all walk off the stage and Thomas puts a arm around my shoulder.

“Damn, that one rival.”

“Ashlyn?”

“Yes, banner. She got some spirit in her”

“Yea…yea she does.

“I’m kinda jealous, iv always wanted a rivalry like that.”

He trails off and talks about other stuff as we walk down the hallway but it goes out one ear to the other.

What else could I be doing right now? What else do I want to do?

Chapter Text

ashlyn pov:

I pull my jacket on and zip it up over my long sleeve. My mind runs about the press conference as I make my way out the conference building. Cameras flashes as I walk out, bodyguards shield me as reports scream out questions shoving their microphones towards my face. I make my way through the walkway and get to the parking lot, the one place reporters can’t follow me.

I hear them yell more qestions In The distance as I dig through my bag for my keys. That press seemed… successful? I mean I answered the question good, and I got a lot of cheers. It was nice to see the way all the little girls in the crowd looked at me, with their redbull hates on. I’m a big role model for them. One out of the very few women to make it to formal 1, I have the chance for a women to finally win a championship.

I can’t let them down, can I?

My thoughts trail as i hear the familiar voice. I freeze- stopping in my tracks and take a step back as I pass a sleek black sports car. It’s a nice car I can admit, big with tinted windows. I like cars, it’s my job but I haven’t ever pay attention to everyday ones. I see a familiar face leaning on the car while on the phone. He glances up from his phone and catches me staring at his car.

Clark.

We make eye contact for a brief moment, and I stride forward. I don’t feel like doing this right now.

“Ashlyn?” I hear him call out as I hear steps. Fuck. I don’t stop. “I just saw you less then an hour ago and I don’t even get a hello?” He said catching up to me. I turn around and tilt my head as him. He smiled at me, for a moment I was caught off guard. I don’t what to admit it, but I could see why his fan base was so big. He has this certain aura that mad him so…magnetic.

“How did you feel about the conference, you overwhelmed?” He asked stupidly. Everything I was think seconds before that, was gone. I cross my arms as he takes a few steps forward. “No, it was nice. Honestly I like giving small little jabs to your huge ego.” I said giving a thoughtful look up to the sky. He laughed and sighs. “Your teammate Marcus, he’s uh really something” he said chuckling. I shrug. “Yea he doesn’t like to talk much, just like how you can’t stand to keep your mouth close for 10 seconds” I said bluntly.

He shrugged back. “I didn’t come over here to hate” he said closing any distance left between us. “But I just want to warn you, don’t get caught up in one win.”

I scoff. “I don’t know why you feel the need to-wait.” I cut off smiling. He raised a brow. “You just can’t stand how your not untouchable anymore, right?” I counter.

His smile staggers for a moment. Gotcha.

“I was never untouchable, I was always fighting for my spot.” He countered back.
I hum. “Yea but now that your spot is being threatened, YOU feel threatened. Is it really that hard to believe people out there can ever be on your level?” I asked.

He shakes his head. “You really get ahead of yourself, you know what?” He asked. I click my tongue. “Yet your the person who keeps trying to remind me that just because I won one game doesn’t make me any better then you.” I clock.

“I’m giving you advice, banner. I got way ahead of myself-“

“Maybe that’s just you! Clearly you been on the upper hand your whole life.”

“Why do you keep mentioning my wealth? Are you jealous?”

“Well I really can’t help it considering how easy everything is for you, but you really can’t stand to admit that.”

“Fuck you” he said jokingly

“Your not my type”

He laughed. “I’m really trying to keep this whole rivalry thing light, considering it’s your first year racing in this category but it seems like you want it.”

I shrug. “Well I don’t know what you want me to do when you already fueled that fire before we even met. And considering you still feel the need to comment on my win, seems like you want something.”

He sits and stares at me for a few minutes. I take the moment to look a bit closer at him. The scar on his eyebrow, a light on going across his lip. He has a eyebrow piercing I can see some tattoos on his collar bones. Almost noticeably his eyes are …..red?

The silence stretched as he looked surprised at me. “Why the hell do you have red contacts?” I urged.

I hear a click and look to my left. Reports scribble on their notepads and photographs click all the photos they can get. They are far enough not to hear us, but we are still visible.

“Fuck!” I groan as Aiden looks in my direction. “Oh” he said waving at them. I shove his hand down. “This is going to be all over press you dumbass!” I whisper yell at him taking out my keys. I hurry off to my car.

Chapter Text

Ashlyn pov:

I stare blankly into the phone, photos aiden me and Aiden’s little spar in the parking lot spreading over all f1 news.

“FORMAL ONE NEWS of redbull driver, Ashlyn banner, and Ferrari driver Aiden Clark in parking lot seeming to get heated. Reports show next race between them will get HIGH tension, read more to-“

I pass the phone back to Logan and shake my head. “Nothing was heated, he just got under my skin? Am I not allowed to talk to other people without it striking thousands of articles!” I yell over the sound of the jet. Logan laughs and leans back farther in his seat. “The people are obsessed over you guys, I’m not surprised. I saw a TikTok edit of you two a few days ago.” He says pushing up his glasses.

I recoil back in my seat.

“An edit of what?”
“Calling you an enemies to lovers story”
“WHAT?!”

I hear my parents giggle from the couch. I glare at them as my mom and I make eye contact.

For the second race it’s being held on a track called Circuit of the Americas, located in Texas. One thing I love about this profession? we get flown out on PRIVATE jets. Taylor would have joined us, but unfortunately she promised her mom she would fly with her brother for her first time being in a plane. In other words she currently stuck in a plane with her brother, who seems to be best friends with Clark-and Clark’s cousin.

Logan and I have been getting a ridiculous number of distressed texts from her, complaining about them. Honestly, I get it. I bet all Clark is talking about is “me me me me me, I’m the golden boy, I get to treat people like shit! Oh and don’t forget the fact that I’m so handsome and I’m weirdly always smiling!”.

Something along those lines.

“Mom do not give me that look.” I said as she cuddled into my dad arms. “I didn’t do anything, right Mike?” She defended herself. I glance to my dad, dead asleep. “He agrees with me” my mom says watching the tv.

“How do you feel about the next race?” Logan asked pulling out a bag of crackers from a cabinet. “Eh, I’m more prepared. I know who to look out for.” I said glancing out the window to the blue sky. “In the analysis you were a good amount ahead of almost everyone, it was super impressive to see. I’ll make sure to put it in retros and divide it in between the air spaces so you can get an estimated amount of energy.”

I give him a confused look.

“I’ll get it to you in number form” he explained, immediately understanding that I didn’t understand a single thing he said. I nod as he slides me a water bottle. “ I heard the hotel we are staying in is nice, apparently has a sauna in the bathrooms” I remarked. Logan groaned as he held his head.

“You just reminded me of something so embarrassing.”

“Okay I’m interested”

“It’s too embarrassing”

“I’m sure it’s not even bad.”

“Your wrong”

“Tell me”

“Fine” he said leaning in. “So in Las Vegas they had one of those state-of-the-art recovery saunas. I go in, thinking I’ll get, you know, a nice, relaxing sweat session. But guess who walks in right after me?” He mumbled.
I raise a brow.
“Taylor’s twin, Tyler.” I nod slowly. I haven’t ever talked to Tyler, the most I hear is him and Taylor argument. And he is a mechanic for my rival so go figure.

“And-this is going to sound weird. So promise Taylor won’t hear about it.” He asked pulling up a pinky. I link pinky’s with him. “Promise.”

“So, there we are. Trapped Just me and him, alone, in a very small, very steamy room. And I swear, I wasn’t even thinking about it—until he sits down across from me, all relaxed, shirt off, and…look he’s a good looking guy-“ he trails off before I let out a laugh.

“Are you telling me you have a crush on Taylor’s twin? Oh my god-this is beyond me.” I giggled as his face turns red.

“Just let me finish! I panic. Because my brain short-circuits, obviously. And instead of acting normal, I decide it’s too hot—not like that, I mean literally—so I stand up way too fast and nearly pass out. He tries to catch me. We both go down, And I’m half conscious on top of him.” He said running a hand over his face. I cover my mouth with my hand, holding back a giggle.

“Don’t start because it gets worse. Because I think another teams trainer walks in right then, takes one look at the situation, and just slowly backs out like he’s seen something he really shouldn’t have.” He said dropping his head to his hands.

“Oh my god, Logan.” I smile looking at him. “Why can’t Taylor know about this? She wouldn’t be mad about you liking him, if anything she would try to make it happen.” I giggle imagining how akward it must’ve been leaving.

“Because, she would try to get together. And that’s just- that just TOO much for me right now.” He whined. I smirk.

“I mean, you are already half way there considering you passed out on him and he tried to catch you-“

“Im about to pull up those ship videos of you and Aiden”

“You are the worst.”
——————————-

AIDEN POV:

We step off the plane, greeted by the familiar sight of other racers scattered around the terminal—some lounging in seats, waiting for coffee, others stretching their legs or grabbing their bags. A few glance our way, offering nods and quick smile. which I return with a quick wave. Most racers don’t take it personal when you beat them in a race, well excluding a few.

“Do we just wait for the limo driver to take us to the hotel?” Tyler asks, dragging his suitcase down the steps with far more effort than necessary.

“Yeah,” I say, then eye his luggage with a smirk. “But why didn’t you just check your bags? They’ll send them straight to your hotel room. You look like an idiot hauling that thing around.”

Tyler scoffs. “You think I trust airlines with my stuff? They lose bags all the time. One day, when all your crap goes missing because you handed it off to some random baggage guy, you’ll be the one looking stupid”.

Ben sighs from behind us and effortlessly picks up Tyler’s bag and walks it down the steps. I hum as I walk down. “Uh hey big guy?” I hear Taylor asked as she lugged her luggage off the plane. I can only assume Tyler cohorts her into doing the same he did and bringing her luggage. Ben looks behind him and for a second I see him straighten out.

The plane ride was nice. Taylor was on her phone most of the time, me Tyler and Ben were talking for the whole time. By talking I mean me and Tyler bicker about random stuff while Ben put in his two cents in once in a while. I noticed Ben acting..off. He sneaks glances at Taylor, grabbed her snacks while he was just supposed to grab some for me and Tyler, and I saw him and her talking for a small amount of time.

He definitely likes her.

“You mind helping me out with this?” Taylor asked meekly glancing at her suitcase. Ben quietly nodded and grabbed her luggage and walked it down the steps. “I could have done that” Tyler muttered under his breath. I laughed. “Yea right” I said elbowing him .

I hear Taylor and Ben chat while we walk through the airport. “Seems like your sister thinks Ben is a personal bellboy” I joke taking a sip of my water. Tyler scoffed. “Please, she’s just taking advantage of the fact he’s built like a tank. Why does he have all that arm muscle in the first place?” Tyler asked.
“He looks boxing in his free time” I shrug.

The automatic doors open as we get hit with the heat of the outside. “Oh the great Texas heat.” I wince as the sunlight hits my eyes. My phone beeps in my pocket and I pick it out. About a million texts from my parents telling me to get my ass to the hotel so me and madvrick plus his whole strategist team can talk. Classic.

“I could cook an egg out here” Tyler complained, using his hand as a shield for his eyes. “I’m going to be cooking like an egg while racing. You know how hot it gets in those cars, add this to it? In definitely going to overheat.” I complained as we strolled to the pick up zone. “How you feeling about the race, you think you have a chance?” Tyler joked throwing a giggle in it.

I glared at him in return. “I’m excited. if we get to get Champaign on the podium I might just spray everyone, ESPECIALLY Ashlyn-“ I start before Tyler knocks me upside my head. I wince and turn to look at him. The hell his problem.

“I didn’t mean that in a aggressive way, Jesus-“

“I wouldn’t talk about that when we have a friend of the enemy among us.” He said turning to look at Taylor. She squints at us and turns back to Ben to continue their conversation.

We stop as our limo pulls up, sleek and polished, the driver stepping out to grab our bags. Tyler wastes no time tossing his suitcase into the trunk, muttering something about “handling his own damn luggage.”

I glance over at Taylor and Ben, still deep in conversation, her laughing at something he said. Ben, who’s usually quiet and reserved, actually looks comfortable. Yeah, he’s definitely got it bad.

Tyler elbows me. “Their getting a bit too comfy, you thinks that kinda weird?”

I roll my eyes. He’s so oblivious.

The driver opens the door, and we slide in, the cool blast of AC hitting us like a blessing. As we settle into our seats, I pull out my phone and fire off a quick “I’m on my way” text to my parents before glancing at Tyler.

“You know,” I say, stretching my legs out, “when I win, I’m making sure you get absolutely drenched in champagne.”

Tyler groans. “I swear, if you aim for my eyes again—”

I just grin, leaning back against the seat as the limo pulls away. Texas heat, race weekend, and the usual chaos—just how I like it.

Chapter Text

Ashlyn pov:

“I should speed up during that corner, right?” I ask one of my analyst. She nods as we watch the video of my car speeding in the track. I hum and pull off my gloves while walking over to my mechanics.

I point to a graph on the screen of the car and its parts. “ Let’s tweak the downforce on the rear wing. I felt it sliding a bit in turns five and six, and while your at it can you on the break balance, felt off during the last run” I said as my members huddle around me. “Got it, we could probably finish that before the next run” a mechanic says before rushing to the car.

I nod and retreat to my bag and grab my laptop and snag a protein bar. It’s felt like hours since iv sat my ass on a chair, I’m tired. I rub my shoulder as I step away from my garage and to a nearby seat, where I can see the racers as they practice. I open up my laptop and pull into all my times, record of my car, runs, and all that fun jazz.

It’s been a hell of a morning. Practice days are the worst—right up there with workouts. The heat is unbearable, my skin burns, my eyes sting, and the feeling of sweat pooling in my fire suit makes me want to rip it off and run straight into a freezer. On top of that, my team has made countless adjustments to my car, and I’m starting to think—

“I don’t know how your eating those bars, they taste like cardboard.” my thoughts are interrupted by a voice I hear more then I want. I grit my teeth as I turn behind me.

Aiden Clark lean against the wall, his trademark smile spreads on his face. “Well I don’t know why you always feels the need to comment on everything, but I’m not asking you that?” I replied. He laughed and sits down next to me, I scoot farther away.

“What is it with you always finding a need to talk to me?” I asked looking down at my laptop.

It’s a legitimate question. I can’t stand him. He doesn’t particularly like me either, yet somehow, he always manages to pull me into conversation. It’s insufferable. I’m sick of his stupid press interviews, his unsolicited advice, his overconfident attitude. I’m sick of his stupid smirk, his stupid perfect tan skin, his stupid soft hair

Shit.

I’m allowed to say he’s attractive, he is-

“Maybe I just find you more interesting than everyone else.” His tone is easy, like he’s barely thinking about it. “Besides, it’s not every day I get to trade barbs with someone who actually keeps up. Keeps me sharp.“ He sighs leaning into the chair as the cars race across from us.

“Don’t  you  think that’s slightly selfish? I don’t like talking to you, you clearly know that but won’t leave me the hell alone.” I complained. He hummed under his breath. “ don’t you think being an ass to me all the time is a little unprofessional? Just because we’re rivals doesn’t mean we have to hate each other twenty-four-seven.”

I met him with a blunt look. “I think you’re missing the part where you constantly come up to me with sly remarks.”

Before he can respond someone whistles. I look up from my laptop to the sound and I hear Aiden groan.

A man, about our age. He has long dark hair, tan ish skin, and is..very sweaty. His dark hair is stuck in a helmet like position becoming all the sweat. His outfit drips in sweat, it’s dripping off his nose, and I can see it dabbled on his neck. My face turns in disgust.

“Go on somewhere Barron.” Aiden sighs as the guy approaches us. Barron, iv heard about him. The words my analysis people and trainers use the most to describe him is:

“arrogant”

“Rude”

“condescending”

“aggressive”

“ attitude”

and most of all “idiotic”.

With all that lovely information, I don’t really want to deal with him. He’s not exactly a glowing endorsement.

“Well if it isn’t the over achiever, and rookie sensation!” He clasped. “How does it feel to be in the presence of real racers?” He asked folding his arms. I raise a brow, unimpressed. “How does it feel to almost reck your car on every other turn?” I asked shrugging.

He laughs, clearly unfazed. “Come on, I could show you how to drive better. You’d learn a lot from a real champion.” He says coming closer to me. I’m hit by the overwhelming sent of sweat, musk, a cheap colon, and just nasty grime.

Fuck.

Does this guy shower?

I wrinkle my nose and lean back. “I’m sorry, but how many championships have you actually won? If I wanted to learn how to drive slowly and sloppily, not to mention smell like a landfill, I’d definitely come to you for your jarring  advice”. I said backing up.

“It’s okay, once you see me race you will be humbled. I’ll wipe your  pretty little face on the floor when I-“ he started before Aiden chimed in.

“Oh, shut the hell up, Barron.” Aiden cuts in, sounding thoroughly done. I glance over to him, still smiling but it looks sketchy.

I roll my eyes as Barron opens his mouth. “Actually, Barron, why don’t you focus on not wrecking your own car before making threats?” I snap, my patience snapping. “And while you’re at it, take a damn shower. ”

A second later I get up on my heels, swiftly walks past him, and leaves.

“Touchy, touchy!” he calls after me, but I ignore him, not bothering to look back.

As I hustle away, I hear him trying to engage Aiden. “What’s with your friend? She needs to lighten up.”

Aiden scoffs. I don’t catch the exact words, but from the tone and the sharpness of his reply, I know he’s just insulted Barron. Probably twice.

I roll my eyes and sigh as I head back to my garage. My blood is slightly boiling, my head hurts, my shoulder is in pain, and most of all I’m starving.

This is going to be a great rest of practice.

Chapter Text

Aiden pov: 

The crowd cheers around me as I sit in my garage. Game day. I usually, scratch that, I’m never this nervous. But now because of….im having to push. I grit my teeth as I see my dad’s fingers signal for me to come over to him. His fingers twitch getting impatient. “One second, but duty calls!” I joked to my mechanics as I leave them. They smile and I hear a few chuckles, oblivious to the not in my stomach.

“Aiden” he says putting both of his hands on my shoulder. Gripping me a bit too tight. My heart rate picks up. “You win this, today.” He said looking me straight in the eyes.

I chuckle nervously. “I got it, but it’s just the second race I don’t see why-“ I start before he starts shaking his head.

“You are the golden boy, “ he said, his voice low. “losing twice in a row to a sloppy rookie? That’s going to be fucking embarrassing.”

I flinch at the venom is his voice.

“You make me proud.” His grip tightened for a second. “Today, or it’s going to prove you are as useless as we always thought you were.”

With that he leaves. Like it nothing. Like I’m nothing. I stand there for a few seconds. Frozen. Minutes go by.

…..

“Something is wrong with him!” My mom yells from the kitchen. I hear her tears as she speaks, choking on her words.

“Do you see his- his room is disgusting!” She shouts at my dad. I can imagine my dad shaking his head at the dinner table. Like how he always does when he looks at me.

“I want, I want him gone! Out my house! He’s…useless! All he does is stay in that dark room and waste his life, we either send him away or…..” she trails off. I tuck my head between my arms.

I’m not the son they want.

……

A hand shoved my shoulder, snapping me back to reality. “Hey” Ben looks at me concerned. “You…good?” He asked.

Breath.

“Yup!” I said slapping on the coverup of the smile. The one iv perfected for years. Ben knocks his head towards the car as the stadium cheers louder.

It’s go time.

My trainer hands me my helmet and I force my legs to move, as I get shoved into the spotlight.

—————————

“Okay, you know what to do.” Liam yas from the come.my grip tightened on the wheel. The lights flicker from red, to green.

Go!

I slam the throttle, tires screeching as I launch forward. The roar of the engine vibrates through my bones, but I don’t hear it—I don’t hear anything. Everything around me fades. It’s just me, the car, and the track.

A redbull car gets a quick start, the car pulling up against mine during the first few corners. I don’t need to check to know who it is.

Lap1

Lap2

Lap3

I grip the wheel tighter as we race wheel-to-wheel through the first sector. She dives on the inside at Turn 4, forcing me wide, but I hold my line, refusing to let her through that easily.

I’m starting to figure out Ashlyn racing style. She’s calculated-she always is. She doesn’t hesitate to take risks, throwing her car into gaps that barely exist, but she’s smart with it. It’s what makes her dangerous. It’s what makes her good. But I’ve beaten good before. I’ve beaten great.

All times I glanced at her car during practice, all the times I rewatched the last race.

I can’t lose to her again.

Lap4

Lap5

Lap13

“Okay Aiden.” A man says in my com. “Looks like we got a Mercedes driver coming up close to you guys.” He says. I look in my mirror and I see a sleek black car speed up.

“How many laps!?” I asked. “20” Liam familiar voice says in the comes.

I swing my eyes and  I tuck in behind her, using the slipstream down the straight, my front wing nearly kissing her rear tire. At the last second, I jolt to the side, swinging past her just before the braking zone.

I’m ahead.

Lap15

Lap16

Lap17

She’s close— too close—as we barrel toward the last few turns. My tires are screaming, my fuel is low, but I hold my nerve. She makes one last desperate lunge on the inside, trying to take the lead.

Not today.

I react instantly, cutting off her line and forcing her to back out just before the final straight. She’s still right there, but it’s not enough.

“Useless”

The checkered flag waves.

I cross the line first.

The roar of the stadium explodes around me, but all I can hear is my own breathing, heavy and uneven. My grip on the wheel loosens as reality crashes back in. I did it. Of course I did it!

The sleek black car pass  at 3rd. The rest follow.

“Hell yea!” I yell into the com as I hear the rest of my team celebrate.

As I pull into the cooldown lap, my mirrors catch Ashlyn’s car rolling in behind mine. I get out my car as my team erupts in celebration. My analysis are cheering. My mechanics lazily laugh and jump.

“That was I good one team” I hear Ashlyn voice say in the radio I can’t help but let my eyes wonder to her garage. I watch as she climbs out her car, taking off her helmet and smiles at the blonde guy with glasses. She rubs her shoulder and says something, shrugging at the end. Her team sits slumped.

She looks slightly upset, just not showing it. The only reason I know is because that was me last race.

But I know it’s not over.

Chapter Text

Ashlyn pov:

I slammed myself down on a bench, just outside my garage. My fire suit is half unzipped, the sleeves tied on my waist. Even at night, it’s still hot as balls. I let out a half ass chuckle.

I lost.

I should be doing anything, anything but dwelling on it. I can mask it from my crew, the cameras, but I can’t hide it from myself in my own head. I’m frustrated- I’m upset. The race keeps replaying in my mind, every turn, every decision, every moment where I could have done something better.

I could have made a sharper turn

I could have been more aggressive at lap 16

I could have defended-

……….

What am I doing?

I freeze in my mind- everything going dark.

Am I really sitting here sulking like a sore loser? Clark drove well—I can admit that. He’s a pain in the ass, but I won’t discredit him. He earned it. And that feeling—the frustration clawing at my chest—I haven’t felt it this deeply since I was …..15.
Since I was training day and night, pushing through exhaustion, through every voice telling me I wouldn’t make it. Since I was at my lowest, physically and mentally.

I fought through all that crap- and just for me to sit here and whine?

I did so much to get here, I’m not going to sit here on my ass moping, who am I? Get yourself together.
I’ll make better decisions next race, I’ll win again. I know I can, I did it a few weeks ago. He can have his moment, but it won’t last.

I know exactly what everyone’s going to say. Aiden Clark, three-time champion, reasserts his dominance over the rookie. They’ll act like my win was a fluke, like I had my moment in the sun and now order has been restored.

I refuse to let them be right.

This isn’t over. Not even by a long shot. I smile as I watch the empty track at night. I can recover, I always have. Nothing has changed.

Just like that, I’m snapped back into motivation.
I get up and breath in, the tension in my shoulders releases.

Now, where is he?
———————

I walk into the hotel bar. People surround me, drinking, dancing to the music. Stevie nicks blare on the speakers as I push through the crowd. People are passed out on the couch, others glaring at them while sitting with their legs crossed.

I stop and listen. My hearing has always been better than a regular persons-don’t ask me why I have no idea. I clear through all the sound and pick up a laugh. Sound like a laugh iv heard too much. I move towards the sound and lo and behold, a Clarke sits in his bar chair, talking to a member of his crew. I smile and slide into the seat next to him.

“What can I get you?” The bartender comes over and asked me. Clark’s head glances at me then does a double take. “Look who decided to join my victory party!” He said turning to face me. “A dirty martini please” I said to the bartender. He smiled and went off.

I looked over to him. He doesn’t look drunk, he doesn’t even smell it. I would say he’s 1- maybe 2 drinks in. I smirk and tilt my head at him. “Damn, you really needed that win, right?”

His smile falters for a second, clearly not expecting it. He lightly grins then sighs. “Did you really come all the way here just to shit on my win?” He asked. I shake my head. “Out of all things I’m not a sore loser.” I stated. “ I came here to congratulate you actually.”

He squinted his eyes at me.

“You played good, it was a great win. Just wanted to let you know that it would be may easier next time” I remarked. He chuckled. “I would expect none the less.” He said taking a sip of drink in front of him.

“Just don’t want you to get too relaxed, iv had a change of mindset”

“What did you go off and meditate while I was celebrating”

“You could say that”

We lock eyes, the tension in the air crackling.

“Next race, you’re going to be sorry you ever even locked eyes with me.,” i said my voice low but confident.

“Good,” he replied , leaning in a little closer. “I wouldn’t want it any other way.”

He takes his hand out, inching for a handshake. A smile tugged at my lips as I give in and shake it. Our hands linger for a second longer as I get up. The bartender sets the drink in front of me and I grab it.

I turn on my heel and swiftly walk, taking a sip out my drink

“See you on the track, Clark”
“Count on it, Ashlyn.”

Chapter Text

Aiden pov:

The cameras in the press room click and flash as the chaos continues in front of them. Reports smile and write things down, cameras switch from me to Ashlyn.

“You nearly ran me off the track, I could have crashed.” Ashlyn scoffed as the heat turns up, her voice sharpened.

I learned forward with my smirk, barely holding it together. “You weren’t forced into anything Ashlyn, clearly you just can’t handle the fact that people are aggressive on the track-“ I start before she speaks over me.

“Bullshit!” She cuts me off, her deep green eyes squinting at me. The moderator nervously looks around. He’s been trying to break up all the chaos for the past 10 minutes, poor guy. “I can’t just vanish when you decide to throw yourself into my line. I can handle aggressive driving, but last I checked, racing still has boundaries.”

I shake my head while sitting up higher in my chair. “It’s racing, we all have our tactics and I like to get personal! There’s nothing wrong with that?” I smile while watching her. the racer in the middle of us awkwardly scoots his chair back, probably second guessing why he’s even here.

“Yea Clark, but there is a problem” she said with her voice dropping in sarcasm. “when you’re reckless and stupid on a track. And if you really wanna talk about racing, maybe we should talk about how you lose your damn mind if someone takes an inch of your space.”

Reports glance at each other and the crowd mummers among themselves as me and Ashlyn keep eye contact.

The past few weeks have been nothing short of war. Ashlyn and I are at each other’s throats, and with 15 out of 24 races done, neither of us is backing down. She’s taken 7 wins, I’ve got 6, and the rest barely scraped two.

The tension is unbearable. Every race, every lap, every corner—it’s a battle. The internet is eating it up, headlines screaming about our rivalry, our clashes, our fights on and off the track. And let’s just say, Ashlyn and I? We’re not exactly on speaking terms. Everything gets heated and we both know we are each others weaknesses to losing the finals. Not that I care—she’s infuriating. Last race, I might’ve pushed a little hard, and she got slapped with a track limits penalty. You can imagine how she reacted to that. We got in an argument after the race and since the academy is messy, they scheduled a press meeting a few days after.

A reporter steps up and screams out a question. “Do you believe the penalty was unfair by the FÍA?”

“Yes completely. Look over the footage. He’s done this it multiple other times to different people-“ she states before my compose creaked.

“Are you seriously accusing me of dirty tricks?” I asked running my hand through my hair.

Ashlyn smiled. “If the boot fits”

The racer in between us sighed as the moderator tried to step in over all the noise. “I just wanna go home” he sighed .

——————

“The nerve.” My mom sighs back stage as I enter the room.

Me? Dirty driving? Give me a break! I can get aggressive, and yea I do get in people space buts it’s never that I want them to crash. I wouldn’t want Ashlyn to crash, that’s just insulting to my character. My jaw is tight.

don’t know what’s worse—losing to Ashlyn or dealing with her off the track. She’s in my head, and I hate it. Every race, every press conference, every damn moment, she’s there, pushing my buttons, getting under my skin like no one else ever has. I hate myself even more for…enjoying it. She’s different from all the other racers, unreadable.

“Aiden?” She says snapping in front of my face. I look up at my mom. “What the heck was that?” She asked as she leaned back into my chair. “What do you mean?” I mutter lost in my thoughts while kicking off my shoes. “The whole Ashlyn conundrum, just because she got slapped with a penalty? So unprofessional. I don’t even know why the internet is obsessed with her.” my mom said scrolling on her phone.

I shrug. I can see why, same reason why my fandom is so big. She stunning, stupidly confident, claps back fast and as much as I would hate to admit…she’s talented.

“Next race you win. Just to even out the score. I don’t even know why you keep losing to this rookie in the first place…” she utters the last part lower.

“Its fine mom-“

“I want you taking more practice lessons from madvrick too.”

“Okay”

“You think after how long we’ve been having you do this you would win everything”

That one hit me hard, straight in the face. As much as I would love to think I could win it all, that’s not possible. I thought I was the best at this damn sport, people kissed the ground I walked on. Now that I’m slipping things are different. People are paying more attention to how I act, to fans, to my team, to friends, to Ashlyn.

“Well is was bond to happen I guess.” I mumble under my breath. My mom scoffs and shakes her head. “You know, I would love to see how she acts off camera. Probably a huge bitch.” My mom says aggressively tapping her phone screen.

“She’s not” I said, the words rolling off my tongue without me even thinking about what I was saying.

“She’s humble, but knows how to rub wins in. She’s good at arguing fast, always has a new insult every time I see her. Iv seen her with her friends and teams and she seems very calm and mindful. She’s sarcastic, on the days we don’t bicker she usually just throws handfuls of sarcasm at me-“ I start before shutting my mouth.

What am I saying?

This is my rival, the one person I’m not supposed to think highly of. But…a part of me thinks about how she would act if we didn’t have to constantly butt heads on the track. Would she like me? Would she think I’m nice and cool?

“Why does it sound like you’re defending her?” My mom said pausing, looking up at me with skepticism.

I gulp down and shake my head. “I’m not, I couldn’t even imagine us not arguing”

Chapter Text

Ashlyn pov:

I sit down in the chair, adjusting my sweatshirt. The lights in the office blare into my eyes and the sound of the fan getting stuck once in a while is starting to irritate me. I push my earbuds in harder.

I woke up this morning to the head of f1 teams calling me in to talk. I can only assume this can be about one thing, Clark.
Tension had been high, and he’s been even more annoying than usual. His comedic humor, smiles and winks, jabs after a race, it gets irritating fast. Have iv been the nicest? No. But does he deserve my kindness? Hell no! The truths we made after the second race didn’t last long, as soon as we got on the track we were more aggressive then ever. Last week press conferences definitely got…heated. I got fined for cursing but I’m okay with that, he deserved what he got. The media is slip in between us. On hand it’s all Clark’s meat riders talking about how he does no wrong, on my side it’s my fans defending my opinion.

The door clicks open. I glance up to see a woman step inside, exuding authority. She’s dressed in Prada, her jewelry perfectly coordinated, her whole aura screaming power. Older than me—maybe in her forties or fifties—but clearly someone important. I stand up and reach out a hand. “Ashlyn banner-“ I start before she gives me a tight hug. I tense up. Never been a fan of hugs…or people in my personal space. You know who else gets in my personal space that I don’t like? Clark

“don’t worry sweetie, i already know your name.” she said letting go and tapping her finger on the edge of my nose like im a child. I recoil back slightly. “Sit” she instructed walking to her desk. I oblige and sit down crossing my legs. She taps on her computer and adjusts her hair. She looks put together until you look at her face, she looks like she has been working overtime with toddlers for years. “The infamous Ashlyn banner, the young woman who managed to take f1 by storm. Knocking Aiden Clark off his 3 year streak and quickly becoming a a fan favorite.” She said turning to face me. I shyly smile and straighten my posture.

She seems to like me. That’s a relief-

“I’m Naomi, Naomi Clark”

My stomach drops. That could just be a coincidence last name- it’s very common-

“Aiden’s auntie”

Fuck.

She smiles and let out a giggle. “Don’t worry, I’m not here to intimidate you. In fact, I’m a fan of what you’ve done. I’ve been waiting for someone to shake things up, and I’m even happier it’s a woman.”” She smiled turning back to her computer. I nervously nodded back and thank god she’s doesn’t hate me. “My daughter, lily, she’s adores you, Always raving about how she wants you to win.” She said softly.

I raise a brow.
Picking me over her own cousin? I feel honored.

“Now, iv called your team here to talk about involving you and another driver in a charity campaign.” She said typing. An campaign? I mean the most iv been on is a magazine article.

Before I can ask more, the door clicks shut again. Naomi looks up, removes her glasses, and smiles. “Great. Now that you’re both here, we can begin.”

I frown. Both?

A sinking feeling hits me right before I turn around—

Fucking Clark.

—————————

“I don’t like this.” Aiden mutters glancing at me. I rolls my eyes. “Can you reexplain please? I’m confused on a few points” he said scratching his head as if he even tried to listen. “Were you even paying attention?” I whispered under my breath. I feel his head time to me. Naomi smiles and nods, remaining patient.

“ you two are F1’s biggest internet sensations right now. Aiden with Ferrari, Ashlyn with Red Bull—the world is eating up this rivalry. And it just so happens we have a charity event in need of two drivers. Originally, it wasn’t going to be you two, but after seeing the buzz online… well, it’s meant to be.”

I shift in my seat and sigh. I can feel a headache.

“You will take a simple photoshoot together to announce the campaign, do a QnA with each other at the event, urg people to donate, take photos with fans, and most of all, -play nice with each other.” She said, making sure to drag the last part.

“We still want that rival energy but remember you are still public figures, so let’s keeps the personal attacks to a minimum.” She said handing us papers. I glance down at them, seeing my PR team’s signature already there.
Traitors.
Aiden sighs and looks up. “And if I don’t agree?” He said bluntly. I scoff. “Trust me I’m not too stoked about this but it’s a CHARITY event. Why the hell would you turn down an even to give back to people who are less fortunate- oh wait.” I mock putting my hand on my mouth. “I forgot you live in your own world that only involves you.” I said signing my signature.

Do I want to deal with this? No. But again, I can’t turn down charity, and the fact my PR team would drag me if I refused.

Aiden laughed. “Oh yea because your so selfless? excuse me I don’t feel like spending night and day arguing with your overdramatic ass-“ he starts before Naomi clears her throat. We both turn to face her. She raises a brow, clearly unimpressed and glares at Aiden. He quickly signs the damn papers and passes the paper back to her. She smiles and raises her hand to shake ours. “I’ll see you two on Friday.” she said softly glancing at the exit. I quickly thank her and pick up my bag, out there in a second.

Great. I’m stuck with Aiden for a weekend, and I have to act like I enjoy his company.

As I press the elevator button, I sense him before I even see him. The air shifts—like it always does when Aiden Clark is nearby. I don’t know why, but I always tense myself up.

“Ah, Ash, how are you holding up after that penalty?” His voice is laced with mock sympathy as he steps beside me. “Getting a little tough to handle?”

I exhale through my nose, forcing myself to look straight ahead.

Did he just call me ash?

“Wow. It’s actually getting hard to breathe in here. Your massive ego is sucking up all the oxygen.”

Aiden chuckles, shoving his hands in his pockets. “Or maybe it’s your own. Mine stays in its lane—yours, on the other hand, seems to drift over to me constantly.” He waves a hand in the air like he’s swatting something away.

I roll my eyes. “God, do you ever not talk?”

“Do you ever admit when you’re wrong?”

“I’m not wrong.”

“Oh, right, of course.” He grins. “Ashlyn Banner is never wrong. Never makes mistakes. Never, ever—”

The elevator dings. The doors slide open, and I step inside, finally turning to face him. “You coming, or are you just going to stand there and annoy me from a distance?”

Aiden tilts his head, pretending to think. “Tempting. But I think I’ll stay. I enjoy watching you boil from afar.”

I cross my arms. “How do you even function with that much smugness weighing you down?”

He smirks. “It’s a skill. One of my many talents.”

The doors start to close, but just before they shut completely, he gives me one last look. “Have a good rest of your day, Ashlyn.” He says in a…tone. A tone that makes me stomach flip around. I hear it much more then I would like but it’s always with some heartfelt sentiments.

I smile sweetly—then, with slow precision, lift my hand and flip him off.
I catch his laugh just as the doors seal shut.

Prick.

Chapter Text

Aiden pov:

I grab my forhead trying to grasp my brain, Bent over doing my best to get my breathing to get in control.

In-out-in-out…in-

My heart pumps faster and my vision blurs. Aiden, get it together! I gasp out, my shaky breath trying to hold on to my lungs. I clamp my eyes shut feeling hot tears fall on my face like boiling water.

I’m losing control.

“Your not good enough-face it!”

Drowning.

“Something is wrong with him-I want him out!”
“This is your dream Aiden, don’t throw it away.”
“Fuck- CANT you do anything right!”

My knees buckle and I grab my head, desperately scrabbling for silence in my head

Stop stop stop stop , stop it

“Please…!” I whimper burying my head into my knees. My beat beats faster as if it’s about to burst out. Tune the voices out-!

The voices won’t stop. They swirl, overlapping, growing louder, pressing against my skull like a shotgun. My breath is a series of desperate gasps, my chest tightening until it feels like breathing through a straw.fingers dig into my scalp, nails pressing hard enough to leave crescent marks-

“Aiden?” I hear something crackle. I flitch, head swinging up making me feel sick. I blink the tears.

“Aiden?!” It crackles again.

My shaky knees instantly attempt to get up, grabbing onto the nereby couch.

“Aiden you said you were going to get something from your hotel and be gone 20 minutes max, it’s been 30!” The walki talki spoke from where I threw it.

I gulp down all the saliva in my throat and look down. My sweaty fire suit halfway unzipped and stained with greased, hand covered in bandages from all the cuts in getting from holding the wheel to tight. That’s right…I’m wasting valuable time.

I choke down another sob and grab onto the walls for support as I stumble to the bathroom. My head spins as I wipe the back of my hand against my face swiping the tears across my chin. My hands rummage through the cabinet.

Come on.

I fling to the medication bottle and my tremors worsen. I told myself I didn’t need to depend on this kind of thing. My trembling hands press and try to open the damn container. Fucking child locks. A broken sob breaks as my hand struggles.

“We don’t need that stupid medication, no son of mine has anxiety”

Stop it.

“Pathetic”

“Useless”

My hand fiddles with the cap, pressing any strength I have left.

“The hell wrong Aiden, you’ve been acting odd”

“Act your age-“

I slam the bottle down on the sink. The orange plastic shattering all around me and everywhere, tiny blue pills fall inside the sink. I quickly scoop up two and shove them down my throat.

Breath.

I look down, a long piece of plastic stabbed into my hand deep, dark red blood gushing from it. My eyes shut.

Your just being dramatic-your fine

My memory fades as I look down at my hand.

……..

“What does that mean?” My dad says leaning on the big brown desk. Me and my mom lock eyes for a moment.

“It means your son is dealing with a lot right now, mixing such bad anxiety and depression can causes the body lots of problems.” The lady said adjusting her glasses. She’s nice, gave me chocolate while someone else talked to mom and dad.

“So-so now what?” My mom asked with a certain shake in her voice. Iv heard it many times, always when people talk about me.

The lady at the desk pulled out a paper and slide it to them. “I’m going to prescribe him to some medication to try to control-“ she started before my dad scoffed. “Medication?” He mocked. She raised a brow. “Yes, medication. This or you take him out all the programs he’s unrolled in. He’s hasn’t even hit puberty yet and causing him this much stress-it’s going to have heavy consequences.” She said shaking her head.

No more science projects?
No more race car driving?
No more piano lessons?
No more math competitions?
No more homework?
No more-

That sounds…nice

“We can’t take him out of those programs- you know how many opportunities they are going to give him?!” My mom yelled holding my shoulder.

The lady’s eyes sqinted. “Yes I do, but your son is 12. His brain hasn’t fully grasp how it is to be so stressed, THATS what’s causing him to get these attacks and depressive episodes. And not to mention but….” She glances at me. “He’s exhibited minor symptoms of bipolar disorder, that could mean nothing but it’s still something-“ she started until my mom storms up, snatching the paper from the desk. “This is just- ridiculous! I know what’s best for my son, I know that this is all bullshit.”

The women stayed in her chair shocked.

My dad rubs his face. Bipolar, isn’t that what crazy people have? “Aiden up, now!” My mom yells grabbing my arm and tugging my off the chair, towards the door. My forearm burns from the workouts being done in the racetrack program. My dad gets up with her. “You know that if I think I child is being mistreated or being neglected by their parents I have to sources to get CPS involved, you know that right?” The lady’s says loudly slamming her hands on the desk. My mom turns around, her face red. I feel another arm tug my arm out the door as my mom shouts at the lady.

My dad sighs as he shuts his car door. I can feel his disappointment as the air conditioner blows. I don’t even need to see his face. “..Aiden” he muttered. My jaw clenched and I fiddle with my seatbelt. He moves the mirror to the side, allowing me to see my own face. “Smile more, you have a good smile. I don’t want to see you without it.” He sternly said. I don’t smile much. “Like this?” I said before trying my best to put on the smallest smile possible.

He shakes his head.

“More.”

I smile bigger

He nodded silently, letting me know all I needed to know. I kept that same smile on even as my mom walked out the doors with a folder of papers.

……………..

“KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK!”

I flinch. My head turns on its own.

“KNOCK KNOCK!”

The door. Shit I look down at my bleeding hand, quickly ripping out the plastic.

“KNOCK KNOCK!”

“For fuck sake-IM COMING!” I yell out rushing out the bathroom and to the door.
I fling to door open and see Ben, leaning lazily on the separate wall. He looks up, eye bags hanging. “Madvrick is going crazy down there, he sent me to come get you” he said adjusting himself.

You can tell he’s exhausted, hell one look at me and you could probably tell too. I spread out my signature smile. “Yea uh, I just came up here to grab some pain meds! You know I didn’t think madvrick could get anymore pushy but after my mom told him to reset us all, it really has been hell” I said running a hand through my hair while grabbing my bag. Ben pauses and blinks.

“….you okay?” He asked. I rushed and locked the door behind us. “Yea of course, why would I not?” I said shrugging. He’s always able to tell something up, he rarely ever comments on it other than a few pats on the back or reminding me to breathe.
“Your breathing seems harsh and uneven” he added pressing the back of his hand to my cheek. “You seem warm-” he started. I swat his hand away and smiled.

“I’m fine Ben, please just trust me.”

I’m not

Liar

He hesitated but nodded, walking down the hall to the staircase. I breath in-out-in……out and shake my shoulders.

Your fine.

just stressed.

Chapter Text

Ashlyn pov:

The hot room clings to me as I hunch, hands on my knees panting. My breath comes out as shallow wheezing and it feels like my heart is about to jump out. My stomach turns and bubbles.

Motherfucker-

I barely manage to turn to the toilet before throwing up my breakfast sandwich and the orange I had with it. “…Jesus,” I whisper, my voice raspy.

this practice might be my last straw for the day. Whose bright idea was it to bring in all these new hardcore trainers for all the drivers? It’s like they don’t believe in mercy. On my way here, I saw a driver from another team shoveling food down their throat in secret before being dragged off for another lap. I let out a half ass chuckle. All the team members look dead on the inside too, even the usually optimistic ones.

I hear a sharp banging on the door. “Ashlyn it’s been more then 5 minutes, is their something going on?” I hear my coach say-what was his name, Ryan? Bald guy, very stern, bulky, looks like he didn’t finish middle school. He’s very loud, we’ve gotten in a few arguments so far but it hasn’t become a problem….yet.

“I’m coming out in a minute!” I pant flushing away the puke in the toilet. I throw some water in myself to attempt to to get my vision to stop blurring together. I look up and stare into my own eyes in the mirror. My hair desperately holding on to the braid it was thrown into, my skin all sweaty, the grease stains soaked into my firesuit, and my face looks like it’s been working a 9-5 without sleep. Great.

“Just two more hours till we’re out of here” I said pointing in the mirror. “Just hold on.”

I hear more knocks land on the door and groan. “I’m coming, damn!” I yank the door open to find Ryan standing there, arms crossed. “Did you take a good shit?” he asks, already walking away . I catch up and roll my eyes. “Your times are good, you and a few others are at the top as of right now with best runs.” He raised his brows as we walk over one of strategies laying starfish in the fake turf.

“Can I ask you a question, why were you guys randomly brought in the middle of the season? You’re a lot more different than the support teams were used to.” I asked.

Ryan knocked his head to the side. “The director in charge of it set out a call for all experienced, harsh, ass wiping

performance coaches to try out for the job. If you got in they give your order to push you guys to your thinnest, didn’t tell me why. All I know is that I’m getting paid.”

I hum. I got lucky, Ryan is harsh but he isn’t like my past coaches. Doesn’t talk down, more like-angrily yells about how he knows you can do way better. Much more chill than the others. Barron coach, I heard, is making him spend every waking moment practicing, even on our break days. And you can see it on everyone’s faces.

It’s brutal out here.

Ever since these guys were hired, the atmosphere has been suffocating. It’s like doomsday—everyone knows they’re about to get wrecked, but there’s nothing they can do about it. Hopefully, in a few days, the tension will settle. It usually does. The practices will still be hell, and painful, but at least people might start breathing again.

I hear laughing, my chest tightens. I turn my head sharply as I look in the corner of my eye.

Clark. He’s obnoxious laughing.

He walks in, his cousin beside him, that stupid smug grin on his face. Annoyance seeps into my bones. Not to be a full-on hater, but when half of us have spent the day getting beaten down, the last thing I want to hear is laughter—especially from him. Seeing people I hate be happy? It’s insufferable.

Ryan barely glances up from his phone. “Correct me if I’m wrong. We did a tire test, Qualifying Simulations, Race Pace and Fuel Testing ,Car Setup and Balance Testing, and Install Laps plus Systems Checks.” He said tapping things off his phone.

I I nod, remembering how close to death I felt during all of it.

“Looks good, I’ll time you running the mile and then we can do one last run in the car for the day.”

Fuck.

The mile? in this heat? I might as well just accept my fate of dying today.

I look to the side, drivers and crew members hugging their bags to the exit. Everyone leaving and I’m stuck.

I sigh, slowly unzipped my fire suit and throw it to the side revealing my exercise clothes. “I’m going to pass out” I mumbled as my aching legs walk over to the track setup. Maybe if I fake pass out I can get out of this,maybe-

“Too bad. Let’s aim for less then 15 minutes this time. Ready..set..go!” He yelled off harshly pushing my back forward. My body takes off As my legs attempted to keep up.

————————————

“We ready?” I asked pulling my helmet on my head. Last run of the day. Then I can go home, shower, and pass out. You got this, Ashlyn. Just push through. I get inside the car and press the button activating the  Radio. Today has been shit, I don’t think iv sweat this much my entire life. As I strap in, the engine revs, and my strategist’s voice crackles through the comm.

“Bad news banner, looks like another car is going to be joining you on your run” my strategist says into the com.

There’s an edge to her tone.

It’s Clark.”

My grip tightened to the wheel. Of course, of course he had to be taking a drive at the same time as me. I turn the wheel and  The engines roar as we pull onto the track. I glance to my left, and there he is—Clark, his car rolling up beside mine. Even through our helmets, I know he’s grinning. He’s always grinning. Oh- and don’t even get me started on these damn red contacts.

“Funny seeing you here” I hear his voice taunt on the com. During races the only people you can hear is your crew, but practices are different. You can hear your crew and anyone else who is racing, iv found it throughly annoying.

“Try not to embarrass yourself, it’s been a long day” he laughed. I slam my head on my seat. Am I really in the mood to argue? “Eat it.” I replied.

I can already tell this isn’t going to be a normal run.

The lights flash, and then they’re gone. The signal is a blur, and we both explode off the line, the engines howling as we surge forward. The adrenaline kicks in immediately, pushing me to give it everything I’ve got. I’ve been here a thousand times, but there’s something about being next to Clark that makes my heart beat faster—maybe it’s the way I feel I need to prove something, keep ahead.

We fly across the corner and I glance over. We’re neck and neck, again. I breathe in. No need to do anything fancy, it’s not a match, it’s just a run. I know I’m too tired for this. But I love to see his face when loses. The rumble of the tires, the shrill screech of the engines, it’s all I can hear as I focus on the next turn. But it doesn’t take long before Clark starts creeping into my space, inch by inch, his car getting dangerously close to mine.

My irritation flares. “Clark, stay in your fucking lane,” I snap, the words biting in my mouth. My crew crackled on the other end in my ear. “Keep it smooth Ashlyn, speed up to create distance.” My race engineer added. I obliged and attempted to speed up before he comes closer.

“Relax red, I know what I’m doing,” he drawls, the arrogance clear in his tone.

The hell he does. If he did, he wouldn’t be crowding me like this! “This is just how I race.”

I swerve slightly to the right, trying to give him space, but he’s still right there, pushing me further off course. I can feel the car twitching beneath me, the fine line between control and chaos. It’s a dangerous game he’s playing. This is his tactic, try to drive a car off course so they back up, except I don’t back up.

“What part of ‘stay in your lane’ do you not understand?” I grit out, my voice sharp with annoyance. “You think you would learn after the first one thousand times that this never ends well, so get back in your damn lane.”

“Aw, come on, where’s the fun in that?” he quips, his tone still too playful for my liking. He’s toying with me, and it’s pissing me off. “Iv been waiting for some action today, your my last chance”

I can’t believe this. I try to keep my foot steady, but the more I fight for space, the more he pushes, the two of us nearly gliding together like magnets. We’re going too fast for this kind of bullshit.

“Clark, move—” I growl, my voice practically vibrating with the tension. My hands are white-knuckling the wheel as I try to keep control, but my heart is racing now, my entire focus on making sure we don’t spin out.

And just like that, as I lunge forward to pass him, he cuts in, a move so fast I barely have time to react.

We’re inches apart. I can practically feel his car scraping mine. For a split second, everything slows down, the track, the roar of the engines—it all blurs into a single moment of pure fear. The impact is so close I can taste it.

“Shit!-“ I hear him yell before he abruptly pulls apart. I do the same and get in the middle lane.

Asshole.

My breath comes out in sharp bursts, and the adrenaline is rushing through my veins so fast I can barely think. My hands are shaking. My pulse is thundering. I shoot a glance over at him. He’s doing the same, glancing at me. “Oh you know what you’re doing huh- you nearly just made up crash!” I yell speeding up on the corner. “A bit close but I have never crashed in my life-im the most experienced. You should try having some adventure in your life.”

Insults fly, our crew try’s to step in and tell us to focus but we’re already at it.

“You think just because you a couple of times you can do whatever you want?” I huff “It’s practice banner, I was never going to crash into you. You just take everything too seriously!”

Finally, we come into the garage, our engines rumbling to a stop. The tension in my chest is unbearable as I unstrap from the car, my hands moving faster than my mind. I rip the helmet off, the air suddenly feeling too heavy, too thick. My garage is mostly empty, just 3 race engineers. Clark’s in the same.

I quickly walk past everything and go to his car. He’s still sitting there, hands on the wheel, like he’s just come off a leisurely Sunday drive. His grin is still there but helmet off.

“Having fun, Clark?” I snap, fists clenched at my sides. He just raises an eyebrow, and he looks me up and down. That damn smile.

“Always. Can’t say I didn’t enjoy that-

Before he can say anything else, my hand flies out, slapping him across the face. The sound echoes in the quiet garage.

Clark’s head snaps to the side and slowly turn to look at me. His expression is different—not the usual cocky smirk, but enough surprise to make me feel like I’ve at least made a dent in that untouchable confidence of his.

“Oooooh,” I hear a mechanic mutter from a few feet away, as she grabs her bags and awkwardly walks out, casting a quick glance at the scene unfolding. “Did…did you just slap me?” She said, his smile not even faltering.

“Yea I did, maybe that gets the point across. Get the stick out your ass.” I said before grabbing my helmet and turning on my heels.

That slap felt good, iv been wanting to do that for the longest time. I rub my thumb around my palm and look down as I turn the corner, away from his eyes. I cover my mouth with my hand as I can’t contain myself anymore and laugh.

Chapter Text

Aiden pov:

“ And then she slapped me.” I sighed, wincing as the hairdresser tugged at my hair a little too hard. Ben let out a muffled laughter as he pulled his hand up to cover his mouth, like that would stop me from noticing. Tyler shook his head.

“I’m gonna be real with you, dude—you definitely deserved that,” he said, lounging back in his seat.

The hairdresser chuckled as he continued trimming my ends. “Yeah, I don’t know what you were expecting. You pissed the woman off, and you got slapped. That’s just basic cause and effect.”

Today was the day I’d been dreading—the photoshoot for the charity event. Normally, I wouldn’t mind, iv been on plenty of covers and magazines but after the absolute disaster that was my last run-in with Ashlyn… yeah, not exactly looking forward to this one. Ever since our little incident , I haven’t seen her. And honestly? I’d like to keep it that way.

“Yea-but I didn’t mean to be such a prick, sure I wanted to annoy her but I would never let us crash.” I said getting up from the chair. That was the truth. I’d been having a shit day and wanted something to stir things up. I don’t exactly like Ashlyn, so messing with her felt like an easy way to make things interesting. But… maybe I pushed a little too far this time.

“Well clearly you didn’t think that through enough” Ben added scrolling on his phone I rolled my eyes, standing from the chair. The outfit Naomi picked for me was pretty standard—white tank top, jeans, and a pair of Docs. I had no idea what her vision was for this shoot, but whatever. At least it wasn’t some ridiculous designer suit that made me feel like a mannequin. But still, usually they have us in our racing suits when taking promo photos.

A woman’s voice rang out from outside the dressing room. “Alright, Aiden! You’re up!”

I let out one last sigh before getting up. “Wish me luck?” I said with uncertainty. Ben gave me a thumbs up while Tyler shrugged. “Your on your own, try not to get slapped”

I chuckled. “No promises”

—————————-

I stepped onto the set, blinking against the harsh flashes of cameras and overhead lights. The place was buzzing—assistants adjusting backdrops, stylists making last-minute tweaks, photographers chattering about angles. It was the usual chaos of a photoshoot, but I wasn’t focused on any of that.

I was focused on her

Ashlyn.

Across the room, arm crossed, weight shifted to one hip, and radiating groggyness. She had the same pieces as me on, a black fitted tank, low jeans, and a pair of docs. Her hair was lazily pulled into a half up half down. My heart stutters. I know Ashlyn’s… extremely good looking, but there are times when I forget we are rivals. I mean one thing to see her in her sweaty racing uniform but it’s another thing seeing her in casual clothing. She yawns and her head turn-we lock eyes. Her expression changes from boredom to irritation.

This is going to be fun.

“Aiden, Ashlyn! So glad you two could make it,” Naomi called, clapping her hands together. “Now, let’s get started, shall we?” Ashlyn didn’t move at first, just stared at me like she was debating whether this shoot was worth tolerating me for.

“Banner” I greeted, smirking as I walked up beside her.

“Clark” she shot back, tone flat.

“Still mad?”

She gave me a slow, sarcastic smile. “Your cheek doing okay?”

Before I could respond, Naomi stepped between us, clapping her hands to get our attention. “Alright, love the tension—keep it! The theme for today is powerful duo , so we need you two looking fierce, commanding, intense . Think rivalry. Think hatred. Give me something electric .”

Oh, I could do that.

First few shots were good, standing side by side while arms are crossed giving the camera our best stares. “Good good, now sit on the block behind you” the photographer instructed. I sigh and lean back into the soild white block while Ashlyn jumps to sit on it. She pulls on leg up lets the other dangle off. The camera lens click and the flash makes me go blind for a few seconds.

“Give me a shot where you guys are looking at each other” the photographer instructed. Naomi gave us two thumbs up. I obeyed, dipping my head slightly, my smirk widening. Ashlyn didn’t flinch, but I caught the way her jaw tightened.“Careful, Clark,” she murmured, just low enough for only me to hear. “You’re in shoving distance.”

I huffed a laugh. “Go ahead. I can take it.”

The clicks continued. For a second they paused and the cameraman smiled. “Aye get a look at this one!” He  smiled widely calling over Naomi. I hear them chatter. Everyone are always such sucks up to my family, and to me. Because of our last name, people always act like we are the most important, it’s annoying to never know if they are telling the truth or just trying hard to get on our A list.

“Can this go any slower?” I huff out. “We can agree on that” she added coldly.

“I can’t wait to get home and not have to see you for an amazing few days” I remarked. She hums.

“Yea the feeling mutual, I won’t have to hear your annoying voice- can you back up?!” She whispered yelled turning her head to face me. I step off the block and inch closer to her. “You act like standing next to me is the worst thing in the world. I’d say it’s an upgrade for you.” I tilt my head. She squints at me.

“Your getting ahead of yourself Clark, your breath smells like shit-“ she said before attempting to jab at me with two fingers, I caught her wrist, pulling her in closer. We keep eye contact, our noses close enough to touch. Time slowed down.

“Let go.” She said sternly

“Or what?”

“Let go or you’re about to find out.”

It felt like just us in the room. Her dark green eyes piercing into my skull. My grip loosens. Something goes fuzzy in my chest, It feel like my whole brain just short circuited-

“Click!”

The flash blinds me as we both look over. Naomi had a smile to her face- one I haven’t seen my entire life of being around her. Shit. Ashlyn takes a sharp step back, snatching her wrist from my grasp hard. I linger in my spot for a second longer.

“THATS what I call electric.” Naomi nodded her head approval. I gulp down something in my throat.

I just got caught up in the moment nothing behind it.

I hear Ashlyn breathe out.

“Last photo, I just want you both to flick each other off-“ she barely finishes before both of us in sync stick up our middle fingers to each other. “Can we have that in the promo?” A crew member asked nervously. Naomi smiled wider. “I’m the creative director, I’ll find a way”

The camera flashes as me and Ashlyn keep the pose, her looking more judgmental. “Alright, good one! Great chemistry you to have.” The photographer giggled. I let in a sharp breath, not caring to hide my irritation. I can’t stand this, the close proximity, and everyone feeling like they want to make a comment-just shut up and take the DAMN photos maybe?

“Good job everybody, that’s a wrap. Amazing work you two.” A crew member yelled out turning off parts of the lighting system.

Relief, a lot of it. I immediately turn  on my heel, running a hand through my hair. I hear Ashlyn mumbled something under her breath before doing the same. the heat travel up my neck. I enter my dressing room, slamming the door behind me before covering my face with my hands.

“Looks like the photoshoot wasn’t as smooth as you wanted?” I hear Tyler laugh.

Definitely not smooth.

Chapter Text

Ashlyn pov:

I lay sprawled out on my bed, the pillow and blankets tossed off to the side as I hold up a glossy magazine cover. An ice pack is tied on my shoulder and knee with some random bandages I found in my travel kit. The headline was bold- “rivals Ashlyn banner and Aiden Clark QNA at charity event tell all”. The cover was the one photo I never wanted to see the light of day, when they caught us off guard looking suspiciously..close. There wasn’t any other motives-we got caught up and Naomi wanted chemistry. It was a good photo, I look good and Aiden looks…handsome per usual. Iv always been aware of how attractive he is.

I groaned and tossed the magazine to the side.

My head hurts. Iv beaten Aiden, I’m in the lead with the races. So by the hell do I feel like I’m drowning? It’s not enough. Not even close. I haven’t secured a championship yet. I’m still being called a wildcard. Still hearing whispers about “raw talent but no polish.” I need to train harder, sharper, faster. It’s always what more can I do? Never you’ve done enough. There’s no finish line except for on the track. My limbs ache constantly—bruises where there shouldn’t be bruises, pain in my joints that makes climbing out of bed feel like a mission. My shoulder beams under the ice, dull but painful. It’s starting to feel antagonizing.

I should listen to my parents and just schedule a doctors appointment for my shoulder. I always say I will but I put it off. The whole shoulder pain started way back in high school when I was in that formal 1 program….when my coach was constantly overworking my body without breaks. I got it checked out a few times but I was more focused on beating everyone then making sure I could move my arm. I would mention it to my coach but I could already hear his response. “Your shoulder is fine, you’re being dramatic” something along those lines. Funny how I can’t remember his name but I can remember what all his little habits.

“You’ve got grit, Banner. But grit ain’t gonna hold your bones together when they break. It’s useless”

My head falls to the left and my face is directly next to Aiden’s on the magazine. His eyes were locked on mine, face all cocky and ruffled with red cheeks. My phone buzzes somewhere on my desk full of papers and documents, but I don’t reach for it. Knowing Probably another interview request. Or a team reminder, better yet maybe it’s the Logan and Taylor blowing up my phone asking about THE photo.
The ice on my shoulder is starting to melt, and cold water seeps through the fabric, sticking to my skin. It numbs the throb, and I feel a stinging sensation.

“Knock! Knock!”

I sit up too fast, and my shoulder protests with a sharp sting. I hiss and grab it instinctively. “Dumbass,” I mutter under my breath. “You’re not a machine.” I’m not. But I have to act like one. Keep pushing. Keep performing. The world doesn’t stop spinning even if I want it to.

The door creaks open slightly, I run my head. I see my dad’s head pop in. “Morning trooper, I brought food!” He smiled closing the door behind him. I nod in response. “Rough morning?” He asked sitting on the end of my bed. “Just…thinking”

“You mean spiraling?”

“I’m not spiraling dad.”

“From the vibes I’m getting in here you definitely haven’t moved in a few hours” my dad said tapping my legs. “Define move” I deadpan to sit up. His eyes dart to my ice pack quickly. “The shoulder pain coming back?” He asked sitting squinting at me. I pick at the thread in my blanket. “Nope” I lie. “Just a little sore, you know how it is” I said rolling my eyes trying to be convincing. My dad knows me best, he knows about the past with my shoulder, he knows I don’t want him or mom to worry, Knows I’ll downplay everything until it blows up in my face. He doesn’t push, but I can tell he doesn’t buy it.

“Okay” he finally says. I raise a brow. “We were thinking of doing a lazy brunch—pajamas, pancakes, your mom’s weird jazz playlist. You in?” He said leaning on the door. I smile slightly and roll my head back. “Is this your way of trying to get me to hang out with you guys?” I giggled shaking my head. “It’s hard seeing my baby being so busy, I miss our family outings!” He begged from the door.

“Iv always been busy?”

“Yea but know your grown up kinda busy and not a teenager kind of busy”

I roll my eyes but I’m smiling. “I’ll be down in a second” I agree, not wanting to hear him bother me anymore. He turn to leave but freezes. His face softens. “You should talk to someone,” he says itching his stubble. “Might help”

I scoff like it was a joke. “What, like a therapist?”

“Yes,” he says flatly. “Exactly like that. Or your team doctor. Or your team manager. Or literally me and your mom, anyone. You’re burning out, Ashlyn.”

I look away. Because deep down, I know he’s right.

But if I stop now… if I rest, if I admit I’m hurting, physically or mentally—what if I lose everything I’ve clawed my way toward?

What if I’m not enough anymore?

I hear The door clicks behind him and I sigh. My eyes find its way back to the magazine. My face, harden and skeptical in contrast to Aiden annoyed but smug face. He acts like he’s not bothered buy anything still but if you pay enough attention to him then you can see his smile stutter.

I’m so good with my emotions when I loose a race, so why am I still so hard on myself when I know I’m trying the best I can?

Chapter Text

Aiden pov:

I should’ve just landed at the private airport, but no. Here I am on display like damn bigfoot.

I push my baseball cap down, trying to ignore the flashes of the cameras burning my eyes. Paparazzi run around my bodyguards, trying to get photos as I pushed away through the airport. My stomach twist and turns knowing that these photos are going to be posted on the front of magazines and all over the internet-I hate it but it’s what I’m use to.
You think I could get some peace after flying 6 hours straight to my doom but no. I put on jackets and hoods, wore a hat, pushed back my hair, and even put in my glasses instead of contacts but they still figured out who I am.

The sliding doors glide open and my smile wavers at the sheer amount of fans and interviewers at the door waiting for me. I didn’t know I had such a large fan base in London. I wave and smile exposing my dimples at the fans yelling and screaming my name. My security struggles and my team assistant guide my through the crowd. I raise a brown at the sight of rain. Hard rain. The sky is dark and the wind is tight. That concludes my mood for the week. “Welcome Mr Clark, how are you feeling about the press tour with Ms banner?!” I reported desperately asked trying to shove his microphone at me before gets shoved away by my team. I tighten my grip on my duffel bag and duck into the waiting black car before anyone else can yell at me again. As the door shuts behind me, a second of silence blankets the inside. No shouting. No flashing. Just the thud of the rain pelting the roof. My jaw clenches.

Four days stuck here. Four days of press conferences, promo shoots, and media rehearsals all because Naomi decided to play peacekeeper and force us into a joint tour. The day iv been dreading is here, the press week with Ashlyn. I already had to set aside a whole week of busy work and practices- but I have no idea how this is going to play out. I know we will argue, I know we glare and eye roll. But for the life of me I can’t ignore her. She interesting, knows how actually get under my skin. Even if I’m not looking forward to this-there’s a part of me that’s still going to enjoy it.

The car pulls out of the airport and onto the slick, gray roads. I stare out the window, watching fat droplets chase each other across the glass. The sky’s damn near black for midday. Thick clouds hang heavy over the city like they’re about to suffocate it. The interview location got Chang a few times but landed on London, which I’m not mad about. I’ve never been surprisingly.

The car turns, pulling up to the hotel. The driver says something—I don’t hear it. I’m already stepping out, pulling my cap lower again to keep the rain from soaking my hair. My hoodie’s pulled up, my shoulders hunched, but somehow, somehow people still know it’s me. A few fans screech my name from under their umbrellas. Just then a group of black cars ride up to the side of the road and paparazzi run out with their cameras. must’ve followed the car to here. Lowlifes. I throw up a half-wave to the fans as security stops the paparazzi from coming close to the hotel and head through the revolving doors, the warmth of the lobby instantly clashing with the cold in my chest.

I brush the water off my sleeves and glance around. The place is clean, classy—even smells like roses. It’s packed. Hotel staff rushing around, my own team mixed in, and a bunch of assistants trailing behind rich people decked out in designer clothes. Definitely one of those hotels. A hotspot for celebrities and the elite.

Alex speed-walks over, flipping through his ever-present notebook. He’s been with me for a while. Only travels when he can—usually he’s glued to a computer, handling all the stuff I never bother asking about. He’s kind of like an older version of Ben, but more… Alex. “is there any room service you want before we sign you into your room aiden?” He asked clicking his pen and looking at me.

What kind of food do they even have at these places? Iv been to plenty luxury hotels but it might be difficult in London.

“Is there a menu or…?” I asked. “I burger sounds so fucking good right now.”
Alex gives me a look, rubbing his temples. “Oh yeah, you’re the one who had a long day. You have any idea how hard it’s been keeping your parents from crashing this trip? Or planning hotels, rentals—every logistical nightmare under the sun?” He asked squinting at me I watch the stress practically aging him in real time—gray hairs sprouting, wrinkles deepening.

“Yes, yes, thank you, Alex,” I say in an over-the-top pleading voice. “You are deeply appreciated for everything. Thank you for always having my back. Now can you please, please order me a hamburger? And get something for yourself too?” I’m being dramatic, but I mean it. He makes sure I’m okay—mentally, physically, all of it. Him, Ben, and Tyler—those three actually know the real me. Everyone else? They only know the version I let them see.

He takes a deep breath in and looks back down at his notepad. “Okay so a burger, do you want a side? Drink? They probably have-“ he starts before I hear some clicks and clatter of cameras. I My whole body tenses. I flinch, instinctively turning my head, bracing for flashing lights. I thought this hotel didn’t let paparazzi in? But the flashes never come from inside. They’re outside. The front doors swing open, and in scrambles a team of people—and someone else. I squint. Whoever it is, they’re dressed to hide: hoodie under a jacket, hat low over their face, thin sunglasses, baggy pants, tote bag hanging off one shoulder. But it’s the red hair—damp strands escaping from under the cap—that makes my breath hitch.

“Hello? Sides, drink?” Alex says impatiently snapping in my face. I shake my head and try to focus but the air seems thicker, I feel hot, and my brain malfunctions. “Uh can I just get-a coke or coffee, or a monster, and some fries?” I said trying to keep my head from turning back to see her. Alex shakes his head like a disappointment uncle. “It is 7:00, im not giving you coffee or any energy drink-better yet you’re getting water. You drink way too much soda for your own good.” He says walking away before I can argue. My eyes stay locked to the floor.

Jesus, did I forget to take my medication?

Why the hell am I reacting like this?

Before I can even comprehend what is going on inside my brain I hear clicking of heels on the tile. “Hello hun” Naomi’s voice says as I get wrapped in a hug. I raise a brow and hug back.

“I didn’t know you were here? You never go on any or trips you plan?

“I’m not supposed to, but considering you are my nephew, and you two could easily ruin this whole operation by arguing on stage, I’d feel better going.” She said looking out the window at the storm. “Plus lily wants to meet Ashlyn and see you again so it was a win.”

I snort. Of course lily is a fan of Ashlyn’s, of course. Naomi scans the lobby and I know who she spots. I still don’t look back. After our last encounter at the photoshoot things have been…off with my mind. The moment keeps on replaying, fast, slow, black, white, all the same. Like a broken record. It doesn’t help I remember ever single detail too. It makes my body feel weird. “Ashlyn!” Naomi yells motioning for her to come.

I hate they way she drives, I hate the way she overlaps me during races, I hate the way she looks effortless during practice, I hate the way she smiles on the podium, I hate when she brags in my face. I hate Ashlyn banner. I do.

…Then why does it feel like my lungs just opened up the second she walked in? I haven’t felt like this before a god forsaken photoshoot-I’m just nervous. I’m not usually nervous but it’s my rival, I’m going to be nervous.

The burning in my chest dies down. The air feels lighter. My spine straightens on instinct as footsteps approach—and then stop beside me, just far enough to feel the tension in the gap.

She’s here.

I don’t look. Not at first. Then, at the same time, we both glance over. She’s wearing a pair of over the ear headphones on her neck and a pair of wired earbuds in her ears- why have two? Her sunglasses are off exposing her eyes, her jacket is wet but she still looks comfortabl-effortlessly like always. “Hello, Ashlyn,” I say, my mouth curling into a grin the second she side-eyes me.

“Hi.” Flat. Unreadable.

Classic. Naomi clears her throat. “Plans go as follow, tomorrow we meet down here at 8am, you take a car to the venue where you will do a meet and greet along the barracks where fans are, then be escorted to an area to freshen up and relax for a bit, then you go on stage for a QnA together, afterwards you’ll be escorted out to a dinner and then you’ll be traveling to another part of London. She said reading off her phone. “Sounds so relaxing .” I sigh. She smiles and adjust the bag on her shoulder.
“when you guys get to your hotel rooms I don’t want to see you go anywhere, you stay inside your room. You have a very busy schedule tomorrow. I’ll be back in a couple minutes, the storm has caused Quite the setback in many things” said dialing something on her phone and holding it up to her ear walking away. Leaving us alone.

Silence stretches between us and I hear Ashlyn about to turn away-walk off to who knows. Something urges me to talk.

“So-you always make that kind of entrance? Feels like you are running away from the fbi or something”

She turns and raised a brow. “Ah yes because why would I want to hide from a group of people flashing a camera in my face and yelling question at me. A bit hypocritical considering we do the same thing?” She fired back. “Touché” I chuckled. She looks to the side of her and settles on a pair of chairs next to a window. I settle down in the one across from her. She’s not looking at me, just at the storm outside, like it’s more interesting than anything I could say. She’s probably right.

But I talk anyway.

“You always travel with headphones around your neck and in your ears?” I asked leaning back.

“I wasn’t planning on talking to anybody”

“Guess I ruined that huh?”

“Like always.”

That one stings a little more than it should. I cover it with a scoff. “You know, you’re a real joy to be around.”

She finally turns toward me, one brow raised. “And you think you’re charming?”

“No. I know I’m irritating. Charming is optional.”

Her mouth twitches. Almost a smile, but not quite. I’ll take it. I almost ask about the photoshoot. Almost bring up how close she stood. The way everything slowed down for a second. The way I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it.

But then-

both our teams approach at the same time like it’s some kind of twisted choreography. Rain-soaked assistants. PR managers with panic in their eyes. Some hotel rep holding a soaked clipboard like it’s a bomb.

“Mr. Clark—Miss Banner,” the hotel manager says, British accent crisp but panicked. “We’ve, uh, run into a slight issue.”

I already hate where this is going.

“The rain’s caused quite a bit of flooding, and due to a mix-up with the prepaid accommodations, we’re overbooked.” She said trying to not trip over her words. I blink. “So?”

“So, the only available room left has two beds.”

A pause.
I look at Ashlyn. She’s already glaring.

“You’re kidding,” she snaps, voice sharp.

“I—I assure you it’s temporary,” the rep stammers. “It’s a very large room—suite level, very comfortable—” she starts. “Is this you telling us we need to share a room?” I groan. The manager gulps then shakes her head. “Are you sure there is no other room available?” Ashlyn said pulling off her earbuds. “We’ve checked multiple times and your teams have tired to get you a reservation at another hotel but things are kinda tight right now thanks to the storm.” She said nervously. “This is going to suck.” Ashlyn sighed like I’m not next to her.

I scoff. “Yeah? Well, I’m not exactly thrilled about it either, princess.”

“Do not call me princess.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, your highness—”

“Enough,” Naomi snaps as she storms up behind us. I forgot she was even here. “This is not negotiable. We have four days of joint interviews, promotional shoots, and sponsor events. The weather has delayed our setup crew, and I am not pulling this tour because you two can’t keep your egos in check and stay in the same room for not even a week” she said eyeing both of us like a mom-well she is a mom. “You will live. When a room opens one you can take it.”

I clench my jaw and we both glance at each other.

This just got a tad more intense.

Chapter Text

Ashlyn pov:

This is terrible. Actually, a nightmare scenario. Possibly the worst thing that could’ve happened all season.
I’m stuck in a room with Aiden Clark, can’t leave due to orders, and I don’t have a choice. Dang rain.

I tap my fingers against the bathroom sink. The bathroom is the safest place—closed door, locked door, and most importantly: zero Aiden Clark. I just need a second to get myself together before I slap someone.

“Oh my god-very comforting and suit level my ass!” I hear Aiden yell from the other side of the wall. I breathe in. This isn’t a big deal, it’s just one day. One night sleeping beside him. I look at myself in the mirror so self affirming and twist the Door knob. “What are you yelling about?” I asked checking outside the peephole to see if our luggage came yet. It was supposed to get delivered a few minutes ago. “You see how small this is?” Aiden exclaimed somewhere behind me. Like the room personally offended him. “Wow, a medium sized room isn’t enough for you? Shocker, Golden boy needs presidential suite-level comfort or he self destructs.” I scoff rubbing my eyes. I hear him do a sarcastic dry chuckle. “Sorry I appreciate having my own bed, Ashlyn.” he replied. My brain stutters to a halt. One word echoes like a siren through my skull. “Own?” I repeat, walking over with the kind of dread you only feel during a horror movie reveal.

I stop beside him and panic sets in.

One bed.
One.

Queen sized, green covers, a mountain of pillows, fluffy and sinister.

“Hell no” I mutter in horror. What is this bullcrap-a cheap k drama? “I promise THAT is not happening.” I said motioning my hand to the singular bed. “What, you planning on sleeping on the floor?” he asks, arms crossed, already way too amused for my liking.

“I’ll sleep in the tub.”

He shrugs. “Fine by me. Just dont clog it with your thick ass hair”

“The only time I would clog a tub is when I’ll drown you in it.” I snap. Silence as we stare at each other.

There’s a knock on the door. I practically leap to it, ready to throw my suitcase at him and lock myself in the bathroom again. I hate being in his presence. We both reach for the doorknob and our hands touch for a split second and it feels like electricity goes down my spine. We both retract and share a glare before I push it open.
No bellboy. Just our suitcases dumped unceremoniously in the hallway.

How fancy.

Aiden sighs behind me. “Seriously? Guess the five-star treatment stops at the elevator. What is up with the British here?” He murmured walking to his very very sticker crammed suitcase.

I reach for my bag and immediately noticed how heavy it is. My body still sore from last practice. I grumble and tuck my phone in my pocket getting ready to pick it up, but before I can lay a fingiré on it Aiden comes up beside me and lifts it up with his bag in his other arm. “I can carry my own stuff,” I deadpan.

“Oh trust me I know, You’re welcome,” he says, dragging both of our suitcases into the room like it’s no big deal. “Don’t throw your back out proving a point.”

I hum in response. For the record, I would not have thrown my back out, he’s just always trying to look the most muscular. I glance around the room. It’s nothing too fancy, we must’ve gotten the short end of the stick due to the lateness of our booking. You enter and there’s a small fridge with alcohol and water, a coffee maker next to it, then the bathroom door, down the hall is one open space with a dresser with a tv on top and one bed.

“I hope you pull all your arm muscles” I smile.
“I hope you fall asleep first so I can shove you off your half of the bed.” He remarked settling down my suitcase at the door.

“My half?” I scoff. “you get six inches of mattress, and even that’s generous.”

“Oh yeah?” he smirks, dropping his suitcase loudly at the foot of the bed. “And where exactly do you think I’m sleeping?”

I point to the floor. “There.”

“Right. And then tomorrow I show up at the meet and great with a crooked spine and tell everyone that I now has scoliosis because the beloved ashlyn banner had me sleep on the floor with fleas?” He asked. I nod fast. “Exactly the script.” I said reaching for the phone on the dresser. “What happened to you sleeping in the tub?” He grabs the remote. I ignore him and wait for someone to pick up, the beeping on the other side irritating me the second it goes on. “Hello, this is the front desk” Some British man says from the other side. The accent was thick and bushy “can I order room service?” I asked nice as possible. I hear Aiden turn on his feet.

“Can you order me-“

“No” I replied

“Are you being serious? This is immature.”

“What’s immature is you ordering a cheeseburger in the lobby and eating it with your mouth wide open” I said swiftly turn my head slightly to glance at him. I’m too tired to deal with any more of him today.
“Hello ma’am are you still there?” The man asked on the other end. “Yea sorry, can I have the Alfredo pasta please? With pistachios on the side?” I asked biting my lip. “Okay, what room number?” He asked. “106”
“It will be with you shortly”
The phone dinged and I set it down.

“Wow.” Aiden said bluntly walking up behind me. “Okay here’s the deal.” I said turning around to face him. “Just because we are stuck in her until tomorrow doesn’t mean we need to acknowledge each other. If don’t talk, that means no arguments and that’s good right? We can split the bed and just do our own things. Agree?” I said tilting my head up to looks at him in the eyes. Aiden stands still for a second staring at me, no words coming out. Then he nods. I shifty walk past him and to my luggage.

—————-/————

It’s been fifteen minutes. Fifteen minutes of bliss god sent, complete silence. That’s a personal record really.

I ate my pasta with headphones in and watching Brooklyn nine nine-facing the big window with my back to the bed, petty I know. But if I can’t hear or see him he isn’t there. And he basically doesn’t exist with that logic. Last I checked Aiden was somewhere on the chair or bed with a notebook and pen in hand. Probably scribbling some self obsessive thoughts. Out of sight out of mind.
I reach up and pull off my earbuds and the rush of AC comes in, followed by the light chatter of the tv Clark put on. I let out a sigh and lean on the cold glass of the window. It’s nice to get silence.
I mean-I’ll truly never have silence buts it’s nice to get somewhat of silence.

Silence doesn’t happen in my head.

My hand involuntarily goes up to my ear and presses on it. It’s an old habit. In the training camp I was in- another student didn’t realize I was leaning down next to his car when he started it, straight up blew up my eardrums and now I feel like I can hear everything. After that I wore earplugs for 5 years straight until I got tired of them. I still keep them in my bag one in a while. I like hearing rain-it’s like asmr but less annoying and more comfortable.

“Ashlyn”
Please no.

I blink and close my eyes. “…I know you can hear me- your headphones are off” comes in a small and taunting voice behind me. I clench my jaw and turn my head the slightest so he could get a side profile look at me. “Do you always eat pasta when your stress?” He asked, casual like he knows me.
For a second the question echoed in my head. I blink and slowly turn around completely. He’s sprawled out on the love seat, One hand supporting his head and the other twirling a pen relaxing..to relaxed

“…what?” I scoff. He shrugs a shoulder. “The last race in Ireland, you were eating Alfredo after. I saw you. And a couple times before that too. It’s a pattern.” He said like that was a normal thing to say. “Are you keeping tabs on what I eat or something?” I jab spinning back around and glancing at my empty pasta bowl that is practically licked clean.

I tend to eat pasta after I’m stress. It’s predictable, safe, everything f1 isn’t. And do I mostly eat Alfredo sauce? Yes. I ate it a lot when I was younger so it’s just the obvious choice. The worst thing about Clark bringing it up is because no one ever notices. I’m Mortified.

“I’m not keeping any tabs on you, banner. It’s just intriguing that I spot you eating it looking very tense.” He said raising his brows. I stare at him for a moment then swiftly turn around and pull my headphones back on without a word. Everytime I look at him his expression is easy, dimples exposed, hair placement so perfect that you would think it was pre planned, eyes crinkled at the edges.
I’m not going to be exposing my habits anytime soon. My phone buzzes with a text from Taylor and Logan in the group chat. I glance down.
A picture Taylor sent of Tyler Plummer’s butt crack hanging out while he reaches for a wrench. I snort. Couldn’t help it. It’s one of those dumb laughs you can’t hold in.

“Thwack”

Something fluffy is smacks the back of my head. My headphones fall out and clang on the floor and I freeze.

My body slowly turns around and Aiden’s still on the loveseat, relaxed as ever. The pillow he threw lies on the floor beside me. He doesn’t even blink. “I will fuck you up” I say flatly staring at him. “What are you laughing at? A fan edit?” He asked swaying his foot. I close my eyes and rubbed my face. “No, I just got a text, not everyone is obsessed with your face Clark”

“Oh, come on. Some are. Statistically speaking.”

“Can you just—shut up?”

“Wow. Already mad at me and I’ve barely said thirty words. That’s gotta be a new record.”

“You threw a pillow at my head!”

“You were laughing. I wanted in.”

“You’re like a mosquito. Buzzing in my ear even after I’ve swatted you away.”

“I’m flattered.”

“You’re breaking the truce, you know that?”

He shrugs, totally unbothered. “Yeah, I know. I’m bored.”

“Then be bored. In silence.”

“Silence is boring.”

“That’s the point. It’s calm. Quiet. Especially when it doesn’t include you.”

“Oh. That’s why you like silence? ‘Cause it’s calm?” He pulls a face. “I don’t like that answer.”

“Well, I don’t like you.”

“Believe me. I’ve noticed.”

“Then why is your mouth still moving, you cannot be this incompetent”

“Fine. Let’s not talk. Let’s sit here, silently, hating each other in peace.”

“Gladly.”

Ten’s seconds past shortly.

“Did you bring any gum, I forgot some” Aiden’s annoying voice pips in. I launch the pillow back at him hard with zero hesitation.

It hits him straight in the face and He laughs like it didn’t hurt, but I know it did. I throw hard. It’s part of the charm.
My dad is a pushover in self defense-and how to hit a nasty target.

“Okay that was unnecessary” he said rubbing his nose. “You’re unnecessary.” I said smugly. “You know,” he starts sitting up from his seat. “Maybe you could act like you tolerate me for a while? Not straight out the gates hate me?” He says. I raise a brow standing up. “You want me to act like I like you when all you do is press me until I react? Yea good one” I take a step towards him. “And you react every time.” He tugs back standing up. Just as I open my mouth without warning-

CLUNK.
Whirrrrrrrr…
Click.
Silence.

I look away and at the ceiling. There’s no way this can be a luxury hotel if the AC pops out that easy. It takes seconds for the room to get freezing as the rain outside increases. “You’ve gotta be kidding me,” I say through my teeth, already hugging myself tighter. I hear
Clark laugh tightly. “Did it just die? The AC?” He asked looking up.- brows furrowing. I shiver and nod. This is great. First I get chased by paparazzi, then gets poured on by rain, then forced to have the same with possibly the most annoying person on earth, then finding out I need to share bed with said person, and then the ac goes out. I’m writing the long and miserable complaint to the manager of this place.

Clark huffs and walk over to the telephone. “I’m calling the front desk” he said dialing on the telephone. “While you’re at it, ask if another room is available yet” I said retreating back to the window and wrapping my arms around myself.

I hear it ring for a few seconds then Clark’s and the voice on the other end. “Hi! Yes, it looks like your unit shut off because of a short triggered by the temperature change outside. You should be able to reset it by pressing the manual override button on the unit itself.” The voice says that it’s rehearsed, this must’ve happened to other rooms.

Awesome,” Aiden mutters, deadpan. “How?”

“Oh, it’s inside the ceiling vent. Should be a gray panel on the AC unit with a red button next to it. Might be a bit high up! Just press it once and it should kick back on.” She says then hangs up almost immediately.

Aiden cranes his neck up for a few seconds then glances at me. I follow his eyes and look up.
Farther
Farther
Farther.

The the corner of the hotel, visible to us, is the AC box. You can barely see the red button. It would be somewhat hard to reach….but it’s also 9 feet up on the ceiling. We just stare.

“Who would design something like that?” I rubbed my hands together attempting to not turn into Ice. Clark just stares. “We could throw stuff” he murmured already looking around the room. I scoff. “You’re tall, just do it” I said shrugging. He turned and gives me a look while tugging on a sweatshirt. “Do you seriously think I’m that tall? I’m not a NBA player.” He smugly said grabbing two pairs of shoes. Before I can say anything he throws the pair of Louis Vuitton shoes like it a football and both clank on the unit-no where close to the button. I cover my ears instantly as the metal rings through my ears.

The shoes fall to the floor and Aiden nicks his head to the side. “Okay then” he grunts grabbing a small container of vitamins. I squint and humor him. He throws it with all his strength, and it goes crashing onto the vent. The plastic peace’s creak and break in the air-all falling to the floor. A let out a sarcastic laugh. “What?” he shrugs. “If I hit it at the right angle—” he starts looking around. “Just stop.” I interrupted walking to the small closet. I pick out the small broom and toss it to him. “Your about to kill one of us, Don’t be an idiot”

He ignores my comment, but I catch the subtle shiver running through him. With both hands gripping the broom, he stretches it up—it just barely grazes the ceiling. He thrusts it upward, aiming for the button, but misses again. “You need to go more left,” I say, trying not to sound too smug.
He shoots me a side-eye but shifts left, jabs again, and still misses. I get to my feet and walk over. The button’s tiny, almost invisible—so I’m not judging too hard. But then again… it’s Clark.

“Now?” he asks, raising the broom higher. “Uh, no. You need to angle it a bit—yeah, to the side,” I murmur, glancing around to find something he can stand on. My eyes flick back to him just as his sweatshirt hikes up, revealing the sharp cut of his v-line. My face heats up instantly. I whip around. Behind me, I hear the broom swish through the air like he’s dueling with the ceiling. Miss. Miss again. Then a solid thunk as he smacks the side of the vent.

The broom slips from his grip and clatters to the floor.
“Damnit,” he mutters, defeated.

My fingers are begging to be warm, my eyes feel dry, my lips are starting to crack, and my teeth are chattering. Maybe we could sleep in Naomi‘s room for the night, it’s probably warm. Aiden blabs on about how if he threw some more stuff he “sure to get it” and I look to the side and a painting catches my eye. It’s a duck with a ribbon on it, tied like point shoes-
Ballet.

And idea pops in my head.

“Okay,” I said interrupting him. “Pick me up and I’ll balance on you so I can press the button” I said rolling up my sleeves. Clark sits there, not saying anything. “C’mon. Im lighter. You’re taller. It’s basic physics.” I huff trying to block out the fact I just gave the Aiden Clark permission to pick me up. “……You’re suggesting i lift you up—physically.”he blinked. I grab the bridge of my nose. “Do you have another plan? By all means let’s freeze to death while you throw my luxurious shoes and vitamins.” I cross my arms. He blinks and grins widens. “Okay” he smiles pushing up his sleeves.

A moment later, I’m standing in front of him. His hands go to my waist firmly, not in a weird way. He lifts me, surprisingly steady, like he’s done this before. I grab his shoulders for balance and immediately regret it.

He warm.

I bring my knee up and Balance while sliding my hands along the unit. Everytime I lean his grip tightens. It’s wrong that I feel safe. You okay up there?” He asked, voice low but deeper than usual. “Drop me and I swear-“ I mumbled feeling his laughter in my hoodie. “I wouldn’t dream of it.” My hand scans across the opening but I can’t reach. “You need to go higher, I can’t get to it-“ before I can even finish his hands grip lower nere my hips and lifts me up all the way. “Can you see the button?” he asks, trying to look up and definitely getting a face full of my hoodie.

“I know where it is, Clark. Stop breathing on my ribcage.”

“I didn’t know you were ticklish.”

“I will end you.”

My finger clicks on the button and I get instant relief. The unit kicks back to life with a loud whoosh and warm air floods the space. I sigh in relief, dropping my hand.

Then I realize: I’m still in his arms.

“Okay. You can put me down now.” I mumble grabbing his shoulder. He looks up and we make eye contact. “Yea-sure.” He says gently pulling me down. My toes touch the ground but our eyes are still locked. my body delayed-and I step back after a moment. He doesn’t step back at all. “Teamwork?” He says softer then iv ever heard his voice go. I suck in my breath. My chest goes tight…and I dont even know why.

I pull up my hood without saying a word and go to the bathroom, not turning around.

Chapter Text

Ashlyn pov:

The ac blows hard, making the whirlwind sound bounce off the empty bland white walls. The room is nearly pitch black, other then the light flooding in through the white curtains that I found an oddly mysterious stain on. But I don’t want to think of that. In my imagination I would think it would be a very relaxing sight, in theory you could see the England city lights shine through the curtains……..that Is……if my face wasn’t currently inches away from being plastered on the wall. I’m on the left side on the bed, backed up so close I could probably fuse to it. Clark, on the other hand, is in the right sprawled out like he isn’t sharing it with a whole other person. I think he’s forgotten that I’m still here- in the same bed. I feel a hand swip past the pillow fortress I built to keep us apart. This was about the 24th time he’s gone over the pillow boundary (and counting) and then I feel his foot nearly brush my calf. That was definitely over the line.

This ass.

“Move your knee” I hiss, not bothering to open my eyes this time and turn around.

“Okay!” he huffs clearly fed up. “In not even on your side this time.”

“Your HOVERING on my side.”

“Hovering is legal,” he mutters like it’s some F1 regulation. “Besides, this is the fifth time you’ve accused me of ‘invading your space’ and I’ve been physically restrained to my side for the last hour. Get it together, Banner.”

My eyes snap open and i shake my head, sitting up. I can’t do this. I can’t sit here and listen to him piss me off anymore. I can’t stand to be around him. Sleeping in the same bed is way too much.
I rip the pillow from beside me and start gathering the sad excuse of a blanket when his hand flies out, catching my wrist. His grip isn’t tight, but it stops me cold.“What are you-“ I start before he speaks over me. “What are YOU doing? If you’re planning on sleeping in the lobby I’m sure the press will love to get reports on that” I hear the taunting in his voice, but it sounds to tired to even full get to me. I snatch my wrist away from his grasp and I look up and look at him-actually get a look at him. Something in my chest twist.

His eyes. Big. Brown. Not red, brown. A big contrast from the red I usually see and hate. I like this better, honestly. Why would he even get red contacts if his eyes naturally are this..soft? This sounds weird to say in my head.

“Then I’ll sleep on the floor.” I smile sarcastically. Before ripping from loudly scoffing. I hear him groan and get off the bed faster than the speed of light while my toe has barely touched the cold ground. He slams his pillow down on the floor (somewhat aggressively) and pulled up the hood on his jacket while setting his face down on said pillow. I raise a brow.

“Are you being serious?” I ask. He breaths in. “Im fine with sleeping in the floor if you insist on being princess of the bed, be my guest. Your throne awaits” He sighs with closed eyes. His voice sounds throaty, deep and clearly tired. “I said don’t call me that” I add. When he doesn’t respond I smirk, the smallest one creeping across my face as I flop back onto the bed, stretching into the space I just won. Warm blankets. No annoying limbs near me. Full victory.

I get to see Clark, uncomfortably sleep on the floor? And have the bed all to myself? Which no one touching me? This is a win on all levels. I fall back on the bed and snuggle up the warmth of all the pillows. For this being an expensive hotel, it sure feels like something I would stay in when I was a kid. My limbs relaxed, my breath evened and my eyelids fell heavy-But something pops in my head. Why is he…even sleeping on the floor? I was about to, but he stepped in. He could be all warm in the bed right now while I sleep all squished on the floor but it’s the other way around. Does he just like sleeping on the floor?

Is this…manners? Is Clark not being selfish? I have to be overthinking this. It’s Clark. The cocky guy who never stops smiling and gloating. My eyes open and I side eye the bottom on the bed, where I see the smallest fluff of blonde hair sit in the moonlight coming from the curtain. Mr all about me, Mr golden boy, he’s not fighting me on this. He could just argue with me and he probably could have made an agreement, but he just makes one last remark and then…left it alone? My eye pull back open naturally. My eyes skim farther down from the scruff of hair, I can’t hear and see him breathing steadily, slow, calm, but definitely not sleeping.

The room feels heavier, weirdly empty. He seems just as tired as me. Too late to argue, too much tension to have a conversation. I sniff while staring at the ceiling. I hate to say this…but I feel bad. The amount of stress our muscles are constantly in from practices, races, and other various activities, even sitting on a hard chair sucks. It feels like every muscle you’ve used is being tightened and pushed together. I can’t imagine what sleeping on a cold hard surface would feel like- actually I could. I fell asleep in my garage a few weeks back after looking at charts of my car all night, and when I woke up I definitely didn’t have a good rest of my week. My teeth naturally bit on my lower lips.

I slowly glide up in bed and star at his body. His shoulders are larger and more muscular than mine, it hurts even looking at him. Why am I even feeling bad for him? Because iv been there? I sigh softly. “Clark.” I call out. Not in a hard tone, not in a soft one either. Unreadable. I see his body noticeably tense up.

“….what now?” He replied, not in the most friendly tone. Something in my stomach just tells me to lay back down and go to sleep but I ignore it.

“Please,” I sigh again-putting a hand over my face. “Just come back on the bed.”

He immediately sits up and looks at me. Something in my stomach twist again. His eyes, big, somehow even browner, and dilated in the dark. “You can’t actually be talking to me.” He smirks. A tired smirk.

“I am. My body hurts even walking up stairs, I wouldn’t want to be sleeping on a hard surface.”

“So you want me to sleep comfortably is what I’m hearing?” He raises a brow.

“No” I deadpan. “I’m just saying I would hate to sleep on the floor so I’m just being honest. I’d rather you just sleep up here and not deal with your aggravating complaints tomorrow.”

“Oh god…you are actually showing genuine care for my body right now” he says in a fake thoughtful manner. His hand touches his chest.

I groan and grip the blanket. “No-no I’m not! What I’m saying- you know what. Fuck this, fuck you. Do what you want.” I finish laying back in my spot. This is what I get, I be somewhat nice and he rage baits me. I shouldn’t be even have tried to have a not hostile conversation with him, I know better. I hate stick up rich kids- I snuggle my head in the pillow and squeeze my eyes imagining all the insults I’ll be able to use tomorrow at the meet and greet. Slowly, dread seeps into my head. I’ll need to fall asleep soon.

Sleeping was never hard, I usually slept pretty decent. But now-it’s like my brains too busy to even lay down and be somewhat unconscious. I blame it on the stress, my calendar. My body being so sore it’s uncomfortable to breathe. Maybe I blame it on my parents too. They were too supportive on putting me on all those sleeping medication. As soon as I stopped taking them my whole night time schedule went downhill.

I hear the shuffles and pillow is thrown back on the bed next to me. The bed tilts under Clark’s body weight and I feel a type of reward knowing I was right about him Likely being in pain on the floor. Iv been there. I mean-he’s probably been there. I see him during practices, he looks like he has his shit together but you notice some stuff. His hands are shaky, eyes rapidly move. His fingers are usually picking at the hem of his shirt-or the skin around the nail. I sound like a creep describing what he does but…I can’t help it. He’s my rival. I’m supposed to watch him. Look at his driving style, mesmerizing his skill and tricks. But it’s hard to not notice some habits-just like how he picked up on me and my pasta. He was probably doing the same thing. Watching for repetition.

This time, he keeps to his side—rigid, awkward, overly aware of the space between us.
We lie there for a second, stiff silence stretching thin. I don’t think anything is about to happen. My eyes close and I sniff up the air. I’m abruptly took out of blackness by a voice.

“My back is fucking killing me.” He blurts out quietly. It sounded real, it sounded raw. I snort slightly and I can’t help on agree. “Same.”
I hear the sheets shuffle slightly against his body weight. “Feels like iv been hit by a truck. I mean iv been in pain because of this kind of stuff before but man..this new trainers are really pushing it.”

I hum staring at the ceiling. “I think I was actually hit by a truck with how the last race ended” I say quietly.

Why am I talking back?

He has the smallest laugh. “Yeah well…you still beat me so congrats on that.”

For once I don’t insult him on how he should expect it. My head turns and the last conversation I had with my father hits me upside my head.
————
“You should talk to someone,” he says itching his stubble. “Might help”
————

I squint my eyes in the dark. Clark was definitely not the subject that I could talk to, according to everything he should likely be the last. But this isn’t a deep conversation…it’s just us not arguing? It’s just two drivers slightly complaining /if anything he would get it, not completely because of all the women problems. But he’ll probably be better than anyone in the whole league right now.

“We’re too young to be feeling this old.” I sigh, my hand grabbing onto my injured shoulder, instinctively. I think iv always felt older then I am. Always taking charge in situations, always putting the blame on myself. Now I really feel older. I car barely even moving without wincing.

“Yea” he agreed. “No one really talks about how bad it hurts, do they? Everyone just acts like we’re fine.” He added on.
I glance at him in the dark, but all I can see is his back. but his words land heavier than they should.

“They only care if you win,” I say quietly. I don’t lie. I don’t soften my words.

Another beat of silence.

“That’s our industry.”

I grip onto my shoulder and my eyes close. It’s quiet but not…awful. I feel like something got lifted off my chest, I feel like I can breathe better. I could tell my parents or my friends how much pain I’m in constantly and they’re worry, but I tell him and he just agrees. No feelings attached. He gets it. He’s probably smiling under the blanket right now knowing we both aren’t having a good time.

I shift onto my side, blanket tucked under my chin again, and this time… I don’t hate the quiet between us.

But that would never be said out loud.

Chapter Text

Aiden’s pov:

“Snap, snap, snap”

I bury my face deeper into the pillow, the blanket twisted halfway around my head. Warmth clings to me, heavy and perfect. My bones ache from the past few days, but the mattress underneath feels like heaven.

“Snap snap snap”

This time, it’s on the other side of my ear.
I groan under my breath. Please no.

“How much of a heavy sleeper can you be?”

My eyes snap open at the sound of that voice—the one that’s been living rent free in my head whether I like it or not. Ashlyn Banner. She’s is in this room. My body stiffens. I stare at the blanket for a second too long, mentally cursing about how I could even forget. And here I was, passed out like I owned the place, probably snoring with my mouth open or drooling like a dog. Both of those would not be hard to imagine. Fantastic.

I peel myself off the mattress, running a hand through my hair that’s definitely sticking up at awkward angles. “What time is it?” My voice comes out hoarse, rough with sleep. “7:20,” comes the response, casual but blunt. She sounds tired. I turn just as the bathroom door s opens, and she steps out. My stomach dips for a second, an involuntary reaction I hate myself for.

It’s the same thing every time. That moment when I see her after a few hours of not seeing her—and it hits me like a goddamn train. I don’t care how many insults we trade, how many times she flips me off, or leaves me standing speechless after interviews There’s no getting around it: she’s gorgeous.
Her skin’s got that impossible balance of soft and sharp—the kind of contrast that sticks with you, even when you’re old and your memory’s is bad. Her face? Unforgettable. It’s ridiculous how often I notice these things, like my brain’s got it on repeat.

I clear my throat. “When did you get up?” I asked wiping my eyes off and forcing myself to look at anything besides her. “A few minutes ago” she responded digging in her backpack, and looking annoying put together even if she just woke up.
I sigh and brush my knuckles on the blanket one last time savoring the warmth and comfort and haul up on my feet. I stumble to the bathroom feeling like I’m hungover-but not over drinks.

Last night, I don’t know why I was talking but I did. It’s not unusual that I try to converse with ash, I do it only to get under her skin. I would go as far that I STRIVE off annoying her. But last night….it felt different. I complained thinking she would throw a jab out about how I’m weak and how much better she is but… she agreed with me?
It felt nice. It felt warm. There’s just something….magnetic about it. We argue and insult each other constantly but we happened last night-I want it to happen again. It felt natural. Too natural.

I shove those thoughts away as I glob on toothpaste on my toothbrush and start scrubbing my teeth. My wrist twinges with pain the moment I shift it. I curse under my breath. That’s right, I forgot.

A few days back, I drove like an idiot trying to shake Barron off my rear wing. classic me, fueled by ego and adrenaline. My aggressive driving earned me a nasty wrist injury. Nothing broken, but swollen and tender as hell. And because I didn’t want the press spinning “CLARK INJURED” headlines, I ditched the bandages. Now every tiny movement feels like a punishment.
Today, it’s worse than ever. Putting in my contacts? Basically a two-hour nightmare. I glance at my bag containing said contacts I need to put in soon.

I sigh as I do circles on my teeth, making sure to not move my wrist too much. Shuffling of footsteps come closer and suddenly Ashlyn’s next to me grabbing for her toothbrush. We can’t hate each other that much if we can brush our teeth in the same room, right? It’s oddly domestic. I snort at myself. My life if anything but domestic-if I could i would ditch this whole situation. I wash my mouth out and grab for my contact bag. Small, but evil. I turned to the smaller mirror attached to the wall and plucked my contact out its tiny container. I take a breath and smile. Easy enough task-i don’t have time to spend more then 10 minutes on this.

——————————///-

I groan as the contact falls on the counter…again. What’s that, the 20th try? My wrist ache, my eyes burn from repeated shoving, and I’m tired of fiddling with a tiny little case. I hear a snicker cutes through my irritation and I slowly turn around.

I glance over my shoulder to find Ashlyn leaning on the doorframe, smirking like she’s witnessing my downfall. “I can’t believe I get to see the great golden boy like this,” she teases, arms crossed, eyes sparkling with amusement. Does she find this funny? Of course she does. Because right now I’m feeling pretty hopeless. “Laugh all you want banner, but if I can’t get this in I’ll be walking around blind the whole day.” I said giving her my best glare but there’s no heat behind it. She clicked her tongue. “Did you not bring glasses?”

“I don’t like glasses” I said attempting to sound like I’m not worried.

“So is that a no?”

“I don’t like them so I don’t bring them anywhere” I shrugged.

“That’s insanely dumb” she tilts her head.

“I strive to be what I am”

I rub my eye glancing at the tiny case. I could call Alex up to help me-but he’s probably busy running around making sure everything is okay for today. Same with Naomi. Director stuff. That just leaves me with one…..option.

“Good luck with this mess Clark” Ashlyn says grabbing her bottle of water out of the bathroom. Clearly she’s ready to ditch me in my time of need.My dignity is not going to be intact after this. “Ashlyn- wait.” I sighed running both my hands through my hair. She takes a few steps backwards to be back in the doorframe. She probably doesn’t even know how to put a contact in. “Can you just help me out here?” I mumble, trying to seem like I’m not stressed out about this. We stare at each other for a few seconds and she blinks at me. “No way.”

I groan again. “Come on.” I beg. Ashlyn shakes her head. “There’s no way I’m doing that after you had just had to carry me so we didn’t freeze to death. That’s too much contact for 2 days” she countered walking away. “Ashlyn!” I yell out sitting up. “It’s either you help me or I go blind for the next few days. I’ll pay you back, big time.” I desperately pleaded. Silence. Then I hear her slow steps against the tile. “Fine” she sighs from the doorway.

She stepped in, closing the door behind her and clicked the sink on to wash her hands.

“This so pathetic” she said drying them off. Her voice lacked venom. “Trust me, I know” I chuckled. But there’s laughter came from inside the stomach. I brace myself for more of her mocking but she stays silent, just glanced at me through the mirror. I lean on the counter and plant my wrist on my lap-trying to keep the flare from flying up. “I see you in contacts every time but the one day we just so happen to share a room you can’t put them in?” She asks leaning against the wall. I clenched my jaw. “Try doing it when your wrist shakes every time you reach for your eye.”

She raises a brow.

“I sprained my wrist last week.” I replied, not saying how because I already know she’ll just shake her head and judge. I know I drive aggressively, but it’s who I am. But it’s gotten me this far so why stop now?

“Move” she insisted motioning for the bag behind me. I do, only because the pulse in my temple is building, and the idea of going through twenty more failed attempts is soul crushing. She picks up the tiny contact lens case, peering inside of it.

“You even know how to do this?” I asked raising a brow.

“Logan, my friend. He wears contacts sometimes so I have to help out pretty often. His vision is shit” she retorts, her fingers already fishing the lens out Easily. Logan. I remember him vaguely. On the track during practices. Him and Taylors sister is always somewhat around Ashlyn. Blonde boy, short, glasses, he looks smart.
I open my mouth to ask more about her qualifications for this, but she’s already turning to face me fully, palm outstretched with the lens perched on the tip of her finger.

“Alright, sit” she orders motioning at the toilet.
I hesitate. “You want me to sit for this? What am I, a toddler?”

“A toddler who can’t function without his vision,” she shoots back, motioning to the closed toilet seat. “Sit.”

Reluctantly, I lower myself down, legs sprawling in front of me. I see her glance down and her jaw tensing as she steps between them. The space in the bathroom feels ten times smaller now. She’s close—too close—and I can smell the faint hint of her shampoo, some kind of citrus and vanilla mix that’s burned into my brain from now on. Stands of her hair fall onto my cheeks and I feel like I’m going to burst from whatever feeling this is. She tilts my chin up, her touch surprisingly gentle despite the scowl still plastered on her face. I try to keep my breathing normal, but my chest feels tight, and it’s got nothing to do with the lingering ache in my wrist.

“Okay, look straight ahead,” she instructs as if I haven’t been doing this my whole life, eyes narrowing in concentration. “Don’t flinch.”

“I’m not gonna flinch,” I protest weakly, but the words barely leave my mouth before her finger is hovering near my eye. I tense instinctively, blinking rapidly.

She sighs. “Clark.”

“Banner”

“I swear on everything-stop blinking.”

“Well it’s kinda hard to stare at a ceiling knowing that someone that I DONT trust is about to shove something down my eye!” I snap.

“Just-shut up.” She says with Another eye roll. Her hand steadies my jaw, fingers cool against my skin. “You drive at two hundred miles an hour, but this freaks you out?”
“Objects near my eyeball freak me out, yeah,” I mutter, but my voice wobbles when her other hand moves to pry my upper eyelid gently. “Okay, then….just focus on my eye” she says. Her brows pinch, her expression softening just enough to betray concern beneath the banter. “Hold still.”

I exhale sharply through my nose, taking her advice and focusing on her eye. She has nice eyes-not in a creepy way. Light green in the edges, dark green deeper inside, and if you look closely you can see blue peaking from behind her pupils. Don’t flinch, I tell myself. Don’t make this any more of an inconvenience.

Her finger moves, contact lens balanced delicately—and then it’s done.
It happens so fast I barely register it. the cool sensation settles over my eye, and I blink, the world sharpening like someone wiped the fog off a window.

“There,” she says, straightening up with a somewhat proud smile. You can barely tell through. It looked more like a bland face, but the way the corners were barely up, and her eyes slightly squinted. “One down”

“I shake my head, adjusting in my seat. “You’re dangerously good at this.”
She ignores me and plucks the other contact out the case.

The process repeats, this time a little easier with one eye seeing clearly. Her hands are steady, efficient, and weirdly…comforting? I’ve had trainers, assistants, heath professionals, hell—even my parents help patch me up after injuries, but this? This feels… different. Her touch is cool on my skin and makes me feel awake….it almost feels more intimate.

Shit, this is just my mommy issues talking.

When she finishes, she steps back, screwing the case on. “Better?” She asked putting everything back in the small bag.
I blink a few times, vision clear, pain in my wrist still humming but manageable. “Yeah,” I breathe, genuinely grateful. “Thanks.”

Her gaze lingers on me a second longer and I see her expression change the tiniest-I wouldn’t have noticed if I wasn’t looking at her so closely. Almost
Like it softened.“Please-just take this to your grave” she says grabbing her water bottle. “Oh don’t worry, this will never see the light of day-“ I start before I hear our door slam open. We freeze.

“Aiden and Ashlyn you have 10 seconds to get it together, we have to be downstairs by 8:00 and it’s 7:55!” I hear Alex yell out into the room. How did he even get the card?

Ashlyn’s face goes back to normal, hard, unreachable and she hurry’s out the room looking stressed. I linger on the toilet for a second longer replaying what just happened.

Chapter Text

Aiden’s pov

“Are you even listening to me, Aiden?”My mom snaps through the phone. I rub my temple, letting out a long exhale. “Not really no” the car goes over a speed bump and I’m temped to throw my phone out the window.
my mom scoffs in the phone. What was she talking about again? A meeting? She scoffs into the phone a second time at my silence “I might as well hung up then.”
Click
Silence.

Ashlyn Banner’s always been in the back of my mind—but that used to be because she was my rival. It was doable, only time she ran past my mind was when I was stressed. My parents never stopped pushing me, the media kept shoving us into the same headlines, and we spent more time arguing than actually racing. I studied her like a blueprint—every move on the track, every decision she made. But the more I watched, the deeper I fell.

I'm observant. Always has been. I grew up using that in my favor, so I could changed myself from what people expected me to be. To what the public wanted- a cheeky good looking charming racer. Especially when it came to my parents. They wanted a son who was a champion, and i was a kid who wanted there parents to love them. Desperately.

But Ashlyn—she’s unreadable. She doesn’t treat me special because of who I am. If anything, she treats me worse. I’ve tried to figure her out, but she’s private as hell. She never talks about her past. I’ve seen her with her parents, some friends, but that’s it.
Still, I notice the little things. Her obsession with pasta. The way she always has her headphones in. That gold ring she never takes off.
I thought she’d just be another rival. I thought I’d never get close. But lately… every time we share a real moment, it’s like something explodes in my chest—quiet, fast, and impossible to ignore.
She helped me with my contacts. Let me lie back down next to her on the bed. We exchanged six whole words without turning it into a fight. That counts as progress?
She’s interesting. I hate it. I hate how the only thing that’s been going through my brain in the past 48 hours has been her.

“Almost here. You ready?” Alex kicks my Leg. I plaster on the usual smile. “Born ready” I lean back. This is the barrier walk. walk around for a few minutes and answer some questions from press, and meet some fans. Pretty basic. My feeling are pretty balanced. I can’t say that for much of everything else though. “So” Alex starts. He puts down his laptop. I raise a brow at the sudden ways his eyes watch my face. “What up with you and banner?”

I flinch as soon as I process the word Banner. Alex squints at me. “What is out the usual?” I faked laughed. “We argued the whole time and she kicked me out the bed. Nothing is up” I shrugged. That a lie, a big and bad one too. I think it would have been more convincing if I wasn’t staring at the floor of the car daydreaming about her 1 minute ago as my mom yelled at me through the phone.

“Don’t lie to me Aiden. You were staring at her like you wanted to crawl in her skin while we walked to the car. “

“Jesus Dude, don’t say it like that. You are making me sound like a freak” I whine. The tips of my fingers dig in the leather seats. I can’t lie to Alex for the life of me. Has known me since I was 15.

“Then just tell me the truth.” Alex countered. I smack my lips. “I just….”
He leaned in.

“I’m confused.”

He leaned back out. “About..?”

Everything. Why I’m drawn to her, why I can’t beat her, why every time she looks at me I feel like I’m fifteen again trying to impress someone way out of my league. Maybe it’s just because she’s hot. I mean, the first time I spoke to her, I embarrassed myself so badly I wanted the ground to swallow me. I offered a professional F1 driver driving lessons. And a VIP pass.

“I don’t know Alex-I’m just confused about everything.” I finish slumping in my seat. Alex squints at me and a slow smile spreads.

“Does someone have a crush?”

“No, Alex no”

“No?”

“No.”

The last girl I was romantically with, that was a whole situation I don’t even want to think about. I can’t seem to ever keep a girl, then again we usually don’t care about each other as much as we should. My relationships have purely been physical, nothing more or less. I don’t know what Ashlyn is. Maybe I’m just fascinated with how she acts, maybe I’m hyper fixated on how she beats me. But all I know is-what this feeling is. I can’t let it corner me. I can bother her and interact all I want but at the end of the day if it turns into something-

Alex shakes his head and crosses his arms. “Have you been taking your meds?”

The question hits me sideways. Again.

I blink, then sigh, fiddling with the ring on my index finger.

Every day at 8 a.m., I dry-swallow three pills to make sure my brain doesn’t try to eat itself. What a perfect start to every morning for the past fourteen years.

“Of course,” I reply with a forced smile. “Can’t exactly skip ‘em, can I?”

Alex opens his laptop. “Just making sure.”

“Did my mom put you up to it?” I ask.

He shakes his head, eyes on me. “No, Aiden. I asked because I care.”

I hum, glance at my phone, and mutter to myself. Can’t wait to go to sleep tonight.

—————————————

Ashlyn povvvvvv!:

I shuffle in the car, earning myself to be even more uncomfortable than before. This sucks-I thought my stylist knew me well enough to know that I would have hated this. But here we are. A mini MINI Jean skirt with a basic redbull shirt, in this weather? I would have been nice if I could get a day in these things.

My phone buzz’s and I automatically pick it up, not even checking the name. “Yes?” I sigh. “Someone already having a bad day?” My mom teased on the other end. I smiled. “Nope, just tired.”

Correction, I’m exhausted. Barely slept thanks to the stress of today, and my body feels like it’s giving up on itself. Guess I had one to many arm workouts. Not to even mention I had to sleep next to Clark and his terrible snoring.

Clark.

I push that thought out my head.

“Okay, well I was just calling to let you know that Logan came by and dropped off-hold on,” I hear clatter in the background. “-A bottle of vodka?”
I raise a brow. What? “Vodka? As in The alcohol?” I ask again. She reassured on the other side of the phone. “Yea,no note or anything but he was in quite the rush”

“That’s weird. I’ll text him to ask why” I said as the car comes to a stop. The sound from outside is overwhelming, fans yelling and screaming. My ears burn. “Okay mom, I’ll text u later okay? I’m at the event” I said plugging one ear with my fingers. “be safe and, I love you!” my mom yells in before I hand my phone over to my assistant. I breathe in and out as I see all the people claw at the car. Keep calm, put on your persona.

The doors open and light leaks into the car, that and freezing cold. Damn London.

I get out and wave at people-smoothing out my skirt while trying to pull it down farther. The sound is loud, louder then anything I was expecting. Men and women grasp at me over the metal barriers, little girls and boys on their parent’s shoulders. Cameras flash’s nearly blind me in the daylight.
I take a metal pen out my pocket and start to sign a hundred different posters, papers, clothes, hats, and arms come out for me to sign. “Thanks you for coming!” I yell over the crowd, signing my signature on everything I can while walking. I spot a poster, the one from me and Aiden’s little photoshoot. I sign it quickly and look the other way. Someone catches my eye-I see a little girl on her dad’s shoulders, she’s decked out in f1 stickers. I smile warmly and reach out my hand to hers and she grasps it-sliding on a red and blue beaded bracelet.
————-

The rest of the barricade process went well, chaotic kind of well. My body guard had to pry some fans off me, someone took my ring off my finger, some man tried to hug me but ended up just dragging my shoulder across 20 people. Not to mention it was my bad shoulder. My own pen ran out of ink by the end and I did get a very promising amount of notes and grifts from people. Most of them were tossed off to my security for me, through I did keep the bracelet from the little girl on my arm.

After all thw stuff that I put up with for this job…it’s nice seeing all the smiles and encouraging words. I wave to all the fans one last time before turning to the interviewers barricade section. I’m not of big fan of interviewers in the first place, but this makes it worst. They corner you with hard questions and shove their mics in every direction of your face.

As soon as I step in a few feet of the barrier I hear yelling and mics are already inched out towards Me. “What would you say was your funniest moment on the track?” Someone reached out their mic towards me and flashing cameras hit me as I think.

“ my team principal, Logan. He was on the mic while I was having a very shitty practice run. We ended up in a mini argument because I told him to just leave me alone on the mic and leave the driving to me.” I smiled at the memory. A few laughs are in the crowd before a new mic is in front my face.

“How have your interactions been with Clark so far? We’re aware you were staying at the same hotel?” A man shouts.

Clark.
Iv been trying hard not to think about him. I have no reason to. All he does is get under my skin and ruin my chances of winning. Me helping him this morning was nothing but being kind-and I hope to never do it again. I don’t need any…distractions.

“They’ve been very annoying, per usual,” I say, forcing a smug smile.

More questions come flying. About my number. My teammate. Barron, apparently, called me and Clark a “self-righteous egotism duo” in an interview?

What the hell?

I open my mouth to respond but another question cuts me off. Then another. Then another. They’re not even listening. Just noise.

I open my mouth,irritating rising—I don’t know what I’m about to say, but it’s not going to be polite—

“There’s enough of her to go around, no need to be yelling into everyone ears” a smug voice cuts in stepping next to me. I already know whose voice it is without looking. Clark. Still, I glance at him. His hair’s perfectly tousled, like he rolled out of bed and somehow made it work. His jeans and shirt look wrecked in a careless, effortless way, but the Ferrari jacket? Not a wrinkle in sight. Pristine.

Like i said weeks earlier-magnetic.

Then poof-just like that. I forgot everything I was going to say. I look forward, hoping and praying that my face isn’t getting red. The talking is still loud and now that Clark is next to me the camera flashes are going off more faster and faster. More mics get shoved in my direction and people are now calling out to both of us. I nod and try to focus on their questions but there’s too many to just hear and answer one. My foot goes to step forward so I can hear better-but before I know it Clark steps it front on me.

Fully covering me with his back like a shield.

Chapter Text

Then poof-just like that. I forgot everything I was going to say. I look forward, hoping and praying that my face isn’t getting red. The talking is still loud and now that Clark is next to me the camera flashes are going off more faster and faster. More mics get shoved in my direction and people are now calling out to both of us. I nod and try to focus on their questions but there’s too many to just hear and answer one. My foot goes to step forward so I can hear better-but before I know it Clark steps it front on me.

Fully covering me with his back like a shield.
———————

Ashlyn pov:

I gulp something down in my throat and straighten. My nose is basically touching Aiden’s shirt. The cameras can’t see me. Did he step in front of me on accident? Was it just to tick me off? Does he thinks he’s stealing the spotlight because if I’m being honest this is pure relief. I hear more yelling as interviewers argue Clark to step aside so they can ask us questions and he simply stuffs his hands in his pockets. Should I be stepping next to him? What am I supposed to do in this situation? My pr team never warned me that this idiot would try to take my interview questions.
“Your yelling at us like we’re damn animals,” he grinned. What he was saying felt backhanded, but the way he said it. It seemed like he was joking. “How about we take a second to calm down and then maybe I’ll consider letting you see your f1 princess again. Okay?”

I forget Clark has been in the business longer than me. He has Been a celebrity since he was little, from what I know. It seems like basic knowledge that he would know how to control a crowd-But that never occurred to me. As soon as he opened his mouth things felt quieter. The interviewers looked more timid. I probably looked more stupid, god i hope my face wasn’t red. Why was i even blushing ? Was it just because the way he spoke? The way he seemed so…dominant? The dumb, we’ve read each other to filth before in insults and iv never even second guessed his voice. I guess it only came to my mind now. I need to lay down.

A cold breeze takes me back to reality. I hate this skirt. And I hate that Clark could probably tell I needed this. I needed a minute to breathe, I have that now. Get it together. I nudged his back with my elbow as I side stepped him and now stood next to me. The flashes come back but they are more calm. A fake confident smile pulls at me. “Are we ready to ask these questions like we are people? Or no?

———————————-

“You do know it’s 40 degrees out, right?” Clark teases. He getting under my skin already. “I’m going to rip that contact from your eye” I fire back. He laughed while scrolling on his phone. They shoved us in a room to relax before the event. When I say shoved, I do mean it. There’s a coffee machine, a mysterious stain on the wall, a small bathroom that looks like the floor would fall under me and trap me, and two coaches.

Not to mention the barely there heater. I’m still freezing.

My phone dings and I glance at it. My mom sent me a phot of the vodka Logan left for me. I’m still confused on that part. “What is your plan when we are sitting on stage outside? Hope you don’t get hyperthermia and pass out in the middle?”

“Actually, that’s exactly the plan. I won’t have to hear you blabber on about how you think you’re better than me in every way.” I smile to myself. I hope he dies.

“To be honest-everyone already know that so I won’t even need to-“

Another cold breeze goes Cushing through the room. Clark clearly feels it, and a slow smile spreads on his face as he looks at me. A perfect smile. irritation spikes as a shiver runs down my back.

“Just shut the fuck up”

The room goes quiet. The freezing while you’re stuck in a room with your enemy kind. My eye are closed as I’m trying to keep my temper at bay. I need more sleep, a jacket, and more coffee. Most importantly-less Aiden. Iv had way too much of that in the last 48 hours. I can feel his eyes on me even as I’m trying to get my mental state together. Studying me.

“Do you need something? Or just admiring me?” I asked opening my eyes finally. I guess correctly, a pair of red eyes stare back at me. His eyes widened for a moment, like he didn’t expect me to say anything. “Admiring. I’m enjoying how miserable you look” he sighs looking back town at his phone and typing. I shake my head. “Can you be a narcissist and admire yourself then? We both know it’s not hard for you” I hug myself tightly trying to get some warmth. “You have to admire perfection, I’m just one of the examples.” He finished whatever he was typing and we met eyes. “I know I’m perfect. You don’t need to remind me” I smile tensely. He definitely didn’t mean to hint I’m perfect-he probably thinks the exact opposite. But if this gets under his skin so be it. I’ll act like my ego is to the roof. He leans forward, elbows resting on his knees.

“I would agree with you but the shivering really ruins your perfect act”
Of course he noticed. “Was this outfit choice up to your stylist?”

I nod weakly, accepting his annoying observation. “See, that’s why I always keep a backup bag of clothes just in case I get put in looking like an idiot”
Did he just call me an idiot?
“Men don’t have that many options of clothes, dumbass.” I sigh. “You have a shirt, pants, jacket, shoes. see I have shirt, blouse, sweater, zip up, hoodie, pants, shorts, skirt, mini skirt, skort, tights, heels and sneakers. I lean my head on the couch again. “Shall I go on?”
I hear a chuckle from Aiden. “I love sweaters”

Just as I open my mouth there’s a knock. I raise a brow. I thought we had at least 3 hours before we had to go? Clark pops up in his seat and opens said doors. I lean forward to get a look. A guy with long brown hair, he’s tall. Glasses, earrings, I think I saw him at the hotel. “I’m so busy today and you have me running around to grab you-“ the man starts before Aiden takes a small duffle bag from him. He sound irritated. “Thank you Alex, I appreciate it greatly.” Clark smiles patting his shoulder. Alex scoffs before catch his eye. A slow, almost mocking smile appears on his face. “okay Aiden,” he nods his head dramatically. “ I see what’s this is about now” he says-still smiling at me. I squinted at him. I’m confused. Clark’s grip on the door seems to get tighter as he lets out a dry forced laugh. “I take back what I said,” he closes the door and I notice his cheeks looking more pink. “Who was that?” I asked. I’m too cold to care, but my interest in peaked. “My assistant, and basically my uncle” he says putting down the duffel bag. He zips it opens and tilts his head. “Please don’t tell me that’s all food” I plead. I can’t hear his loud munching right now.

“Do you prefer for your pants to be too big or your jackets?”

“What?” I questioned. He’s always asking the dumbest questions. Suddenly-something coming at my face 99 miles per hour and the fabric lands softly on my head. “Who raised you?” I scoff ripping it off my head. “Clearly someone amazing because I’m giving up my favorite jacket to you.” He said casually digging through the bag. I almost let out an audio “huh” sound before I finally look down. A dark red zip up, GAP lettering on the back in a yellow. Very Clark. Actually iv 100 percent seen his wearing this before. “No” I finish. He side eye me while digging in the bag.

“See this is why I’m not nice”

“Iv seen you in this before”

“Really? Wow that totally matters-“

“Do you want to imagine the amount of photo the press photographers probably have you in this?”

“Okay? Do you wear something new every time you go out?”

“If I wear it the headlines will go insane”

That probably brings sense to him. He looks at me and at the jacket in my lap. “I think thats all I got, take it or leave it.” He says continuing to dig in said bag. I sigh. How could am I? Cold enough to cave? Yes, I am. This is humiliating and is definitely going to be taking a hit on my ego later. “Wait..” he calls out as I unzip it. His hand digs in farther until he magically pulls out a dark green hoodie. I silently thank the earth. “This one is more unknown I feel.” He tosses it to me and I thrown back the other one. It’s a nice quality sweatshirt, lined with comfortable fabric. The front has a Doller on it and the back has some wording I don’t care about. Still ego hitting but not as bad.

Realization hits me that he’s being somewhat kind and my morals break. “Thank you” I said not making eye contact while zipping the hoodie down. “This is just me doing my part for the contacts situation this morning.” He sighs. “Don’t think about it too much, I’m still questioning why you don’t bring spare clothes with you.” He smiles sliding off his Ferrari jacket. I roll my eye and glance up as he tugs on the GAP one. I can’t help but let my eyes linger on his arms for a second longer. I zip up the jacket and the overwhelming scent of “Aiden” hits me. Apple, pine, some expensive soap I could not afford 3 years ago. It’s a nice sent. But it’s not affiliated with nice things so how nice is it?

I can’t help but let my mind run, even after he said don’t think about it. He saw me shivering to death and acted out on it. The one and only selfish Clark. This is going to be a long, cold, annoying
Clark day.

Chapter Text

I can’t help but let my mind run, even after he said don’t think about it. He saw me shivering to death and acted out on it. The one and only selfish Clark. This is going to be a long day.

————————————

Aidens pov:

Is it wrong to admit I miss the track?

Out there, life is stripped down to basics. Problems shrink into commands.

Win. Don’t wreck the car.

Win. Keep your hands steady.

Win. Avoid whiplash.

Win.

That’s all that mattered. Keeping the wheel straight, trusting the machine, and cross the line first. My whole life boiled down to seconds- split decisions, the difference between glory and humiliation. Out there, things made sense.

Now, my problems evolved to more…personal. More messy.

Ashlyn banner.

My rival, the one person who has managed to beat me more than once. She’s slick, sharp, untouchable in a way that feels personal. She’s snappy, unbothered, calculated, and far too good at clawing her way under my skin. Hell, she slapped me once. Who does that? At first, I hated her. Pure, clean hatred. But there was this undertone of excitement, too—like finally someone wasn’t afraid to push back. Then it became a game. I hated her, but I loved bothering her. I lived for those moments I got under her skin.

And now? Now I still think she’s maddening…but something’s shifted.

She’s interesting. She’s new. She treats me differently than anyone in F1—different than anyone I’ve ever met. My romances have always been short lived, easy, forgettable. A few fake laughs in front of cameras, some fun in private then done. But with her, I can’t keep lying to myself.

I think I might have a crush.

It’ll will go away soon. I can already tell. She still brings me an extreme amount of annoyance and frustration. It’s just has to be some weird Stockholm syndrome type thing. She’s the first women who has treated me like an person and not a trophy, the first person who I find interesting and..worth noticing, the first to beat me in a race and rub it in deep with salt, and it doesn’t help that’s she’s pretty good looking.

The worst part about all this is that I feel like she’s my first a lot.

Not like an actual first but a real first.

This is terrifying.

This is just a small phase. I’m not one to try to hide my emotions from myself. Other people? All the time-I do it naturally. But if I need this to pass I just need to feel it. Every excruciating, humiliating, painful moment of it. This is taking a big hit on my ego. I mean it. I even gave her my jacket? MY jacket. It took my two years of grinding on Depop to find that. It was vintage! And I just let her borrow it? And I stepped in when the reporters were hounding her, like some knight in shining armor she never asked for. I know she doesn’t need me—doesn’t need my jacket, my interference, my anything. But still. I can’t seem to stop.

And that’s the problem.

“Fuck,” I mutter, dragging my palm down my face.

The poor guy lint-rolling my shirt freezes in confusion. He blinks, sets the roller down, and bolts out of the room in less than twenty seconds. He probably thought I was about to fire him in the spot. The survivor instincts of a navy seals. Good, I don’t want any witnesses. Not while I’m sitting here, unraveling over a woman who couldn’t care less about me. Same women I’m about to go on stage with and be asked questions with

A woman who would probably kill me if she had the chance.

And the worst part?

I think I’d let her. I’d be so in my head that I wouldn’t even notice her lunging at me with a knife. Or I’d be so lost in her face and features that I wouldn’t notice her pressing a gun to my head. This is really pathetic.

The door opens and a woman pops her head in-an computer in hand. “You’re out in 2” she nods at me. Then poof, I’m alone again. “Get it together Aiden” I glance at myself in the mirror. “Please don’t embarrass yourself”

——————

Ashlyn pov:

I shake my shoulders and shove my hands deep in the hoodie. I’m never coming back to London after this. The wings of the stage is crammed with people running around, most of them shiver because of course this is an outdoor event. I hope everyone in the crowd is wearing a jacket or gloves. “You know them-they don’t need an introduction but raise your hands for the worldwide sensation Ashlyn banner and Aiden Clark!” The host yells

There more yelling and screaming until I get a tap on the shoulder, signaling for me to go. I breath in and out-my foot barely lifting before someone squeezes in between me and walks out on stage. The crowd goes wild. His blonde hair looks like sunlight is shining while the wind blows. Of course he wants to be first- weren’t we suppose to walk out together? Idiot. I roll my eyes before pulling my hood down and walking out.

Showtime.

The crowd explodes again as I smile at wave out at everyone. The host seems to be enjoying our company-she’s standing up clapping along side. There’s some relief that it’s not a man. No sexist questions. Clark sprawl’s out on his chair, one hand comfortably on the table. I sit next to him, still attempting to wave at everyone.

“Wow!,” the host starts fanning herself. “Is it getting hot in here guys or is it just me?” The crowd laughs and she gets a few chuckles out of me. She’s gorgeous-maybe early 40s. Long brown hair, all brown suit. She looks pretty happy to be here-I would too. She’s probably getting payed a ton. She has quite a thick British accent. “Welcome to London banner and Clark, I hope the weather has been pleasant for you?”

I shake my head. “I never want to come back.” I sigh into my microphone. Aiden leans back next to me. “I think I enjoy the sun a little more, you know?” The crowd laughs and the host shrugs. “Now as I know you both are her to promote the “action for road safety” campaigning and I just want to hear your guys thoughts”.

I shake my shoulders and not.

Ashlyn-I think it’s extremely important to promote these kinds of campaigns for various reasons. But we do such a dangerous and unpredictable job that when it comes to road accidents  on actual roads and streets I feel it’s ten times more important.

Aiden-yea I 100% agree with Ashlyn for once. Safety on and off the track is always going to be super important. On the track..

He glances at me and smiles

Aiden-I think we can agree I’m pretty aggressive and reckless. But off the track I would say I’m pretty safe. It’s ironic. But on either end crashes hurt more than you do it’s important to keep those same rules.

The host nods her head and speaks about where you can donate and how. I’m lost in thought when I feel Clark lean closer to me. “Look how amazing role models we are” he whispered. I scoffed “you know, you admitting that you’re a reckless driver might be the highlight of my year.”

“We‘ll  talk more about that later. Ask of right now we have some questions for our drivers! Now know a lot about your racing but not much about yourself so these questions are just to expand on what we know”

“We had a google doc where your fans could submit questions they want to know about yourself. So let’s get started!”

The crowd exploded.

“Questioned 1, Ashlyn how do you maintain your freckles so perfectly and Aiden how does your hair always look so shiny?”

I’m immediately caught off guard.

Ashlyn-uh…sunscreen? They kind of just do what they want I guess?

Aiden- I’m just perfect and my hair knows it.

I roll my eyes while people in the crowd laugh.

“What’s the weirdest thing in your fridge right now? And why?”

Aiden- unfortunately I have a personal shopper so I’m limited to vegetables and gross stuff. My fridge is an empty shell of its usual self.

Ashlyn-I have this spicy honey stuff. I don’t really like it but it was a gift so I use it sometimes.

“You both have stunning eyes, contacts Or not. Ashlyn what have people said about your eyes to you and what did you think of Aiden’s? And Aiden what’s the backstory of your contacts?

Aiden- the backstory is just plain. My vision is crap so when I had to get contacts they were suggesting colors and I offhandedly picked red? Least to say my parents weren’t happy, but I kept it just to tick them off and now it’s apart of the brand.

Ashlyn- what have people said? I guess my parents were pretty confused considering my mom has dark brown and my dad has BARLEY blue eyes. It was a big surprise.

I glance at Aiden and he stares aback, a lazy grin plastered on him. I get a whiff of his cologne, the same one I smell like right now.

Ashlyn-as for Clark’s? I don’t know. I didn’t really notice anything until we were arguing and it just came to me. I do have a funny story about it though.

I shuffle in my seat.

Ashlyn-it was after training, I was pretty tired and just wanted to go home and sleep. It was dark and I had just finished my last run on the track. I’m walking to my car and-of course the only thing I’m thinking of is sleep so my mind is somewhere else. I look over to the side of me and I just see red eyes and I nearly had a heart attack. Turns out it was psycho going home at the same time as me.

Aiden-I don’t remember this?

Ashlyn-because you didn’t see me, I just got in my car immediately and got out of there.

“What’s your worse habit while traveling?”

Aiden-i never charge my stuff, it’s terrible.

Ashlyn-I get lost in airports really easily? I don’t know the logistics behind it but I can’t imagine a travel day going smoothly.

“You both are know to be fashion icons on and outside of race and press days, what are each other’s favorite looks?” Aiden doesn’t miss a beat before answering.

Aiden-Race suit. Always the race suit. That’s when she looks like she’s about to ruin my entire career… and she usually does.

The crowd laughs and for some reason I fight a smile.

Ashlyn- is that supposed to be a compliment?

He leans close to his mic and makes eye contact with me.

Aiden-it is when it comes from me.

Ashlyn-my favorite is whenever he’s on the podium-that’s when he’s quiet just holding his trophy instead of running his mouth.

He laughs from next to me.

“Favorite brand deal?”

Aiden-hands down Dior, love them.

Ashlyn-I mean..it’s kinda obvious? I love my Red Bull drinks

Aiden-she’s just PR trained.

Ash-and you’re not?

“What’s your favorite track?”

Ashlyn-I hate them all.

Aiden-I enjoy Silverstone

“Okay last question you to, if you had to trust each other with one secret, would they keep it?”

Ashlyn-immediately no. He would go and sell me out.

Aiden-okay that’s a lie. I would only sell it if it was too good to use against you.

“So you wouldn’t trust him with anything?”

Ashlyn-…maybe one

Aiden-guess I’ll have to earn it by winning next race

Ashlyn-as if you could manage that.

The crowd muttered as the host starts talking more about the event and my mind is left to think about the questions and answers. What secrets would I ever leave with Clark? None-it would be a mistake to even consider it.

I would never let him in.

Chapter Text

The crowd muttered as the host starts talking more about the event and my mind is left to think about the questions and answers. What secrets would I ever leave with Clark? None-it would be a mistake to even consider it.

I would never let him in.

——————————————-

Aiden pov:

“How long is this going to last again?” I asked shrugging into the black suit jacket. It’s slick, clean, pretentious. Fitted too perfectly. Perfect for an event that all I need to do is sit and smile on cue. Alex brushes past  mountains of bags that’s I have stacked up on the counter and pulls out a dark red tie. “Should last maybe a few hours,” he gave me a look before handing the tie over like it was a contract. “just remember to play nice, Aiden.”

I scoff at his comment. “I’m always nice”

That’s a lie, last event i ended on on my knees in the parking lot shoving Barron’s face into the ground. My parents were thrilled about that one.

There’s this clock ticking in the back of my head—counting down to the charity dinner, campaign, whatever it’s called. A room full of F1 drivers, sponsors, and organizers pretending to care about something other than image. Apparently, my attendance “matters.”

I’m already over it. I know it’s been on my schedule for a while but I can’t help but think how I can get out of this. Stomach problems? I’m lactose, say I have too much cheese? Or I put in expired contacts? That’s believable. Formal party’s have never been my thing. After party’s? That’s more my environment.

My eyes drift to the side at the stack of hair ties with orange wisp flying from it.

Ashlyn finally got moved to a separate room, she basically skipped out with rainbows in her pockets. she left a few hair ties I can’t keep myself from staring at.-my head is spinning.

I turn to the round circular mirror hanging in the wall. My reflection has never sit right with me-seeing a smile that is so practiced. it hides the parts of me that can’t come out at events like these. I like this version better than the old one.

I loop the tie around my neck, fingers moving out of habit. “Who’s all showing up tonight?” I call out.

“The usual F1 crowd. Ambassadors, company heads, campaign partners, a few big-name guests,” Alex replies, stepping out from wherever he disappeared to—streamer in hand for some reason.

“Right,” I mutter, tightening the knot. “And I did what you told me. Invited people.”

“Who?”

“Ben and Tyler. Don’t act surprised.”

He sighs. “And your parents? Any chance they’re showing up?”

I pause, jaw tightening. “Please tell me it’s just Naomi and Lilly.”

Alex hesitates, a bad sign. He Reaches for his phone.

I grimace. “Let’s hope they stay wherever they are. I don’t have the energy to fake a loving son to everyone in a room.”

I swipe my hand down my face in the mirror. examining every movement of my face that feels way to familiar, like I’m already aware of what my face should look like and what it should do.

————————

ASHLYN POV:

“This is pathetic.” I stare back at my reflection. The hair stylist stops mid air while sliding the straightener in the her bag-glancing back at me. The words came out my mouth before I could stop them.

Taylor laughed while rummaging through the nest of necklaces on the bed. “Ashlyn you look amazing, what’s so pathetic about that?”

I blink at my reflection. My hair is perfectly straightened and glossy, it could blind a man. My face looks airbrushed on, it’s making my skin crawl. I look approachable. Like I’m just yelling out “come harass me with questions about my job and who I am!” The bra I’m in is so wired I can barely move.

“I  don’t want to go” my face drops to my palm from the pure impeding doom. “I really don’t want to go”

I would be okay with a photoshoot, an interview, a talk show, hell I’m perfect on a podcast. but now-this is different. Yea iv been to all kinds of dances and dinners, iv been in the industry too long to not. But now-now I’m stuck. I can’t leave early, I have to look like I know what’s going on, I have to be flexible and talk to a hunk of people-I’m important now. I’m the head of my team. Representing half the campaign.

“I think You need to calm down” Taylor comes up behind me-clasping an necklace around my neck before I can protest. “Easy for you to say.” I mumble. Taylor flew in early, as soon as I got back from the event she was waiting in my hotel. Logan was invited, perks of being a team manger assistant and having grandparents that are big. Were meeting up with him later-maybe I can ask about why he dropped off a bottle of vodka at my house?

“What are you freaking out about? Iv never seen you like this.” Taylor settles  next to me. I barely registered it. “This is just big. I haven’t…really done something like this.” I glanced at my dress. Its a dark green, a contrast to the usual dark red I wear for redbull. “I joined for racing. Not preforming.”

“You adapt well,” Taylor turns to the mirror I’m staring in. “but that doesn’t mean your immune to frustration or self awareness. Your overthinking this, act like you. You nailed it it every single time.” She leans her head on my slumped shoulder. “That’s why half the world is in love with you”

I let out an unexpected laugh. “The world is not in love with me tay.” I smile. She give me a look while lifting herself out the chair. “That not what iv seen” she sings. My head then back to the mirror. Taylor’s right-the nerves are getting to me. My reflection looks more tolerable now. There a ding and Taylor lifts up her plush pink dress to walk over the suitcase on the floor. “Looks like Tyler is meeting up with the golden boy. God he’s such an ass, he just told me to behave. The hell does that mean?”

And the nerves crawl back in. Half the reason my nerves are straying so bad, why I suddenly think my performance tactics are weak. Clark.

Earlier when I was overwhelmed and annoyed, getting swarmed by microphones. He noticed. The last person on earth I thought would notice did. So really, how obvious am I with my personal mental state? Iv never had that problem before, ever.

“Does he think your five?” I laughed. I push the Clark thought aside for now. “He must.” She typed on her phone. “You know who’s kinda cute?” She turned to face me.

“Clark’s cousin, and Tyler’s best friend.”

Ben? Was that his name? I Rember seeing him a few times.

“Clark has a cousin? Tyler has friends that enjoy being around him?”

“Aren’t  you supposed to keep tabs on your arch nemesis?”

“I don’t even like seeing Clark’s face, I would shot myself before know more about him then I already do”

“But you love his hoodies?”

I glare at her as she picks up the money hoodie and inspects it. “Other then him being totally conceited, this is a pretty nice gesture.” She hold it up like it’s gold.

“Trust me I was suprised too.” I adjust an earring.

Taylor hums, setting the hoodie back down. “You don’t think he’s attractive?”

I blink at her in the mirror. “What?”

She shrugs, like it’s nothing. “Clark. He’s not my type or anything, but you two looked pretty damn hot together in that photoshoot. I’m just saying—if you guys didn’t hate each other you could totally be a thing.

I scoff, trying to focus on the clasp of my earring instead of the mental image of that shoot. “Your mental”

“So you think he’s cute or no?” She smiles faintly, slipping her phone into her purse. “Cause you just avoided my question. ”

I sigh and pretend to think. “I mean-he’s good looking. I think everyone can agree on that. But his personality brings the attractive scale down ten notches.”

That was entirely truthful unfortunately.

“And he has zero concept of personal space. He chews loud, he never stops smiling, he’s always trying to pop a joke, he never talked shit seriously, he only thinks for himself, he tries to charm his way out of everything and he doesn’t even know how to put his contacts in” I breath out.

“Thanks for the monologue.” Taylor smirks. “You ready to get in your dress?”

——————————-

AIDEN POV:

The drive feels longer than it should.

City lights smear across the car windows, soft gold and white streaks blurring past while Alex scrolls through emails in the front seat like we’re heading to a board meeting, Tyler’s trying to readjust his suit cuffs for the 100th time next to me. Ben usually would be across from me, but he got held up in traffic and sent me a panic text saying he’ll get here a bit late. There’s goes my second support team. 

“You’re quiet,” Tyler says finally.

“Trying to manifest a car crash,” I mutter, adjusting my tie.

He doesn’t even flinch. “Charming as ever.”

I rest my head against the window, watching the blur of traffic. “You’d think after years of these things, I’d learn to enjoy them.” I smile harder. “Iv been going to them since before I could walk”

“You enjoy the attention,” Alex says absently from the front. I kick his seat in response.

“Yeah,” I scoff, “but not the small talk.”

Tyler’s phone dinged and he looks down, his eyebrows drawing in with annoyance. “What is it? Do you need to take a shit or something?” I giggle at my own joke. “No, I’m trying to keep Taylor in check but per usual she’s not listening to me.”

I flip in my seat.

“Taylor coming? How?”

That banner girl invited her. I hat are the coincidences that they’re friends? It was one in a million but no. I can’t have any peace.”

That name banner makes me go silent for the rest of the ride.

We pull up to the venue — one of those overly fancy buildings where the walls probably cost more than my first contract. Paparazzi lights flash against the tinted windows and suddenly I want to be in bed.  “I can’t believe I agreed to go this year.” Tyler muttered next to me. “Hey,” I elbow him hard. “I need you here”

He gives me a look and turns away silently.

The driver rounds the car, opens my door, and the noise hits immediately — shouting, cameras, the dull hum of people trying to get my attention.

Smile. Wave. Look approachable.

I’ve got it down to muscle memory. I can already see the photos before their token. I wink at a camera.

The doors open and it’s immediately visible that this is top notch fancy. It’s amazing. everything’s polished — glass chandeliers, marble floors, the smell of champagne and money. PR teams swarm, guests chatter about brand deals, I see a good amount of familiar faces of my fellow racers. A few stick out-rich people who clearly have more network then all us combined. I’m surrounded by people who call me a “friend” but couldn’t tell you what color my eyes actually are. I need a drink.

I lift my head to attempt  to find the nearest bar and instead I find something much more pleasing to the eyes.

I see her.

I know better than I should.

Everyone else fades — the noise, the flashes, the people talking to me.

My throat tightens. Something in my chest has a hint of annoyance at it. I’m star struck but Irritated all at the same time. How does that even work?

She shouldn’t look that’s good, it’s unfair. Fucking Ashlyn banner.