When she was just sixteen and he was nineteen, Spa-Francorchamps was supposed to be another milestone on their racing journey-one they had dreamed about since they were kids. But that day turned into a nightmare.
The track was slick with rain, and y...
There was something about walking through a paddock hand-in-hand with a secret that made everything feel... louder.
Every click of a photographer's camera. Every turn of a head. Every whisper that died too quickly to be casual. I could feel them, all of them, as I walked beside Ollie toward the Haas hospitality area.
So, look... Ollie and I weren't exactly subtle after Jeddah. Whispering too close in Miami? Kissing his helmet before the race starts in Imola? Even if no photos leaked, people were almost sure.
He was laughing at something Esteban had said, bright and relaxed, fingers brushing mine like it was second nature. I smiled like nothing was different, but inside, everything was shifting.
Because today, we weren't hiding anymore.
We were telling the world.
It wasn't a press release or a dramatic Instagram hard-launch. It was just... letting people see. A look. A shared touch. One photo posted from the official Haas account with a simple caption.
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It was subtle. It was quiet.
But it was real.
And I couldn't help but wonder how Paul would take it.
Not that I cared. Not that I should care.
We'd barely spoken after Jeddah. That was a month ago. Since then, it had been polite nods and brief interactions, the way you might treat someone you used to know but didn't want to anymore.
Yet every time I caught his eyes across the paddock, I still felt that flicker in my chest.
Unwelcome. Unnecessary. Unforgivable.
But it was there.
Like today, during the pre-practice press conference. Paul had sat on the far left, a clipboard in one hand, fake laughter in the other. And when the moderator made a comment about young drivers bonding off-track, Ollie's eyes found me immediately, a smile crept up his face.
The cameraman turned the camera between us. An interviewer asked the question. Ollie's eyes found me again, asking permission. I nodded ever so slowly. "Yes, we are." he answered. Crowd started whispering, asking more questions. The camera flashes were immediate.
So was Paul's reaction.
He looked down. No smile. Just this little twitch of his jaw that told me he'd seen it.
And he didn't like it.
Good.
He shouldn't.
He lost the right to have an opinion a long time ago.
Still, as soon as the media room cleared out and the drivers scattered, I saw him waiting, leaning on the back wall of the paddock like he had nothing better to do. He wasn't in Alpine blue and pink today, just a plain black shirt and jeans, arms crossed, expression unreadable.
