The sun was setting over the Yas Marina Circuit in Abu Dhabi as teams finished their pre-race preparations. Carlos Sainz was among them, focused on perfecting his last few laps before tomorrow’s big race. But as he took a break by the garages, sipping on water and watching the crowd, he noticed someone who immediately caught his attention—Y/N, George Russell’s girlfriend, leaning against the Mercedes paddock with her usual effortless poise.
Carlos and Y/N had become friendly over the season, crossing paths often through team dinners and post-race celebrations. She was someone who could keep up with the constant energy of the F1 world, her smile bright, and her support for George unwavering. She was always there, beaming with pride as he climbed into his car.
But recently, Carlos had found himself glancing her way more often than he cared to admit. She had a calm presence that drew people in, and Carlos found himself surprisingly drawn to her easy laugh and her thoughtful perspective on everything that came with the high-stakes world of racing.
This evening, Y/N spotted him too and waved. Carlos walked over, grateful for a familiar face after a long day of practice. “Hey, Y/N,” he greeted her, flashing a tired smile. “Keeping George company, I see?”
“Of course,” she laughed. “He’s been a bundle of nerves all day. You know how he gets before races.”
Carlos chuckled, nodding. He did know—George was laser-focused, driven, almost obsessively so. They spoke for a few minutes about the track conditions, their travel plans, and the insane schedule that F1 kept them all under.
“Do you ever wonder what it would be like to just… escape for a bit?” Y/N asked, her voice softer, almost wistful as she looked out at the fading sun.
Carlos hesitated, surprised by the question. “Sometimes,” he admitted. “I mean, I love this life. The thrill, the travel. But yeah, it’d be nice to slow down once in a while.”
They both fell into a comfortable silence, the hum of engines and the clatter of tools filling the background. Carlos felt something unspoken linger in the air between them—a connection he wasn’t sure how to define.
As the weekend continued, Carlos noticed Y/N more than ever. She cheered with the same unwavering support for George, but whenever their paths crossed, she always seemed happy to see him too, stopping to exchange a few words or share a laugh.
On the day of the race, Carlos was waiting by the starting grid, psyching himself up, when he caught sight of Y/N again. She was standing off to the side, watching George prepare. But when her eyes met Carlos’s, something sparked between them. A small smile played on her lips, and Carlos felt his heartbeat quicken, a response he knew he shouldn’t be feeling.
He forced himself to focus as the race began, speeding through the track, every second counting. He and George were close competitors that day, each battling for position, pushing their cars to the limit. Carlos couldn’t help but feel that every turn, every daring move, was somehow a message for Y/N, a way to show her a piece of himself he hadn’t shared with anyone else.
When the race ended, Carlos finished in the top three, with George right behind him. The podium celebrations were as exhilarating as ever, the crowd roaring and champagne spilling in every direction. But as the confetti fell, Carlos’s eyes found Y/N standing beside George, her face lit with pride for her boyfriend’s strong performance.
After the celebrations died down and the crowd began to disperse, Carlos lingered by the paddock, half hoping for a chance to talk to her alone. As luck would have it, Y/N wandered over a few moments later, her expression warm but a little hesitant.
“Congratulations, Carlos. You were incredible out there,” she said, her voice genuine.
“Thanks,” he replied, unable to hide a small grin. “You know… I felt like I had something to prove today.”
She tilted her head, giving him a curious look. “And what’s that?”
He hesitated, knowing he had to tread carefully. “That I’m worth watching too,” he said, his voice softer than he intended.
Her eyes flickered with understanding, and for a second, Carlos thought he saw something in her gaze that mirrored his own feelings. But she took a step back, her expression shifting.
“Carlos, you know… George and I…” she began, looking away for a moment as if searching for the right words.
He nodded quickly, not wanting to make things harder for her. “I know, Y/N. Believe me, I know.”
She offered him a sad smile, one filled with a mix of empathy and regret. “You’re an amazing friend, Carlos. And… you deserve someone who’s completely free to be there for you, too.”
The weight of her words settled over him. He wanted to say more, to tell her that he could wait, that he’d rather have her in his life in any way than not at all. But he knew she was right—she was already committed to someone else.
So he nodded, trying to smile through the heaviness in his heart. “I’ll see you next race then, Y/N?”
She smiled softly, the warmth in her eyes still there, even if it was just as friends. “Of course, Carlos. I’ll always be cheering for you.”
As he watched her walk away, Carlos felt the familiar ache of leaving something unfinished. But he knew that sometimes, even the best racers couldn’t win every battle. And maybe, for now, he’d have to be okay with that.
