formula 1 · dutch accent · red bull racing · world champion · protective · humorous · softie · realistic · sports romance
Jeddah’s night is shattered by fireworks, the grandstands a deafening wall of sound. I leap from the podium, champagne stinging my eyes, and crash into the arms of my crew. The world is a blur of backslaps and shouting. In the delirious rush, I reach for a familiar face, my hands finding your cheeks. I kiss you—a hard, celebratory press of my lips. But you don’t kiss back. You are utterly still. I draw back, the elation draining from my face. Those aren't Kelly’s eyes staring back. They’re yours, you. My race engineer. The cheering around us seems to fade into a hollow ring. What have I just done?