Page 9 of Overdrive (Speed Demons #1)

The final practice session of the weekend had just ended, and the sun dipped low on the horizon as I climbed out of the car, sweat clinging to my skin, adrenaline still pulsing through my veins.

The paddock buzzed with activity, teams scrambling to analyze data and finalize strategies for qualifying tomorrow.

I tossed my helmet onto the counter in the Vanguard garage and ran a hand through my hair, still damp from the heat trapped inside the cockpit. This last practice session had been… something.

Auréliewas proving to be a real problem.

She stuck to my line through sector after sector, thatLuminiscar glued to me like she belonged there. Precise. Audacious. Too bold for a rookie—but maybe that's what made it impressive. And perhaps a bit annoying.

Every time I pushed, she pushed harder, even attempting a ballsy overtake on the inside at Turn 6. It didn't stick—she overshot the braking zone, and I took the position back. But damn, she was close. Closer than any rookie had a right to be.

Marco handed me a water bottle and smirked. “You're quiet.”

I took it with a grunt, downing half before answering. “Just thinking.”

“About the rookie?” Marco asked, grinning knowingly .

I shot him a look, but he didn't back off. “What about her?”

“Oh, I don't know,” he said, his voice dripping with mock innocence. “Maybe the fact that she spent two practice sessions giving you a run for your money? Or maybe the way you couldn't stop looking at her in the media pen yesterday?”

“Piss off, you bloody idiot,” I muttered, though my ears betrayed me with a distinct burning sensation.

Marco laughed, clapping me on the back. “Mate, it's okay to admit you're intrigued. She's good. Better than good. And you like competition.”

He wasn't wrong. Competition was my lifeblood, andAuréliehad it in spades. There was a fire in her that reminded me of some of the greatest drivers I'd ever seen—Michael Schumacher, Lewis Hamilton, Sebastian Vettel, Max Verstappen—the kind of fire that made people legends.

It wasn't just her driving. It was her . Nothing broke her focus when she climbed into the Luminis car. She was intense, but in a layered way.

And maybe the way her ponytail swayed when she walked wasn't entirely lost on me either. Not that I'd admit it out loud.

“Come on,” Marco said, nodding toward the paddock exit. “Media's waiting. You know they're going to ask about her.”

The media pen was loud when we arrived, reporters already shouting questions before I'd even stopped walking. I plastered on my usual mask, letting Marco take a few questions first before stepping up myself.

“Callum, what do you make ofAurélieDuboisafter today's practice sessions?” one of the reporters asked. “It looked like she was giving you a run for your money out there.”

“She's quick,” I said, keeping my tone even. “No doubt about that. She's got great pace, and she's not afraid to go for it. That's what you want in a competitor.”

“Now that you've seen her drive, do you think she's a threat to your title defense this season?” another voice chimed in.

I leaned into the microphone. “I don't see anyone as a threat. But I'll say this—if she keeps driving like that…” I paused, eyes drifting past th e crowd, subconsciously looking for her. “… especially in a midfield car, she'll be making a lot of people nervous.”

The reporters laughed, scribbling furiously in their notepads.

One of them asked, “There are already rumors about a rivalry between you two. Theinternet'seven given it a nickname:Frabois.”

“Frabois?” I repeated, raising an eyebrow. “Is that the best they could come up with?” The group chuckled, but I shrugged, playing along. “Hey, if it gets people excited, I'm all for it. Rivalries are good for the sport, right?”

The paddock felt strangely still as Marco and I walked back toward the motorhomes. Most teams had disappeared into debriefs, leaving only the low hum of equipment and the soft glow of evening light behind.

And that's when I saw her.

I saw her reflection first—cast in gold by the setting sun, glowing in the mirrored windows of the Luminis motorhome like something out of a fever dream.

Aurélie stood a few feet away, talking to one of her engineers, completely unaware of how every part of her demanded my attention.

The tilt of her head, the way her braids swayed, the brilliant intensity in her gestures, completely at ease in her element—I drank it all in like I had a right to.

Like no one else should get to see her like this but me.

And for one possessive, reckless second, I wanted to tear through the space between us and claim what I already felt was mine.

I completely forgot what I was supposed to be doing.

And then her gaze lifted. Locked with mine. A brief glint of confidence crossed her face before she turned back to her engineer, the corner of her mouth barely tipping up.

Damn it.

“You're staring again,” Marco said, his voice low and amused.

“Am not,” I muttered, but even I didn't believe it.

Marco snorted. “You like her. ”

“She's a rookie,” I said, shaking my head. “And a competitor. That's all.”

“Right,” Marco said, drawing the word out. “You keep telling yourself that, mate. She's not bad to look at, either. In case you hadn't noticed.”

“She's good, though,” Marco added as we walked away. “Better than anyone expected.”

“Yeah,” I said quietly. To both of your statements.

As we rounded the corner toward the Vanguardmotorhome, Marco clapped me on the back. “Careful, Fraser. You keep looking at her like that, and you'll be the one losing focus.”

I laughed it off, but his words stuck with me, because she'd said something similar back in Bahrain.

She wasn't just another rookie. She was the rookie.

And if I wasn't careful?

She'd ruin me.