Breaking the Grid

Cozy

I stepped into the small room, the space feeling cozy and intimate in a way that immediately made me feel like I was trespassing into a private world. The room wasn't what I expected—nothing grand or fancy. It had a simple, understated charm with a small bed in the middle, one side of it untouched, clearly meant for just one person.

The walls, however, were a different story. They were covered in posters of cars, Formula 1 logos, and photographs that looked like they were taken over the years—Blair with friends, family, teammates. Some photos were of her on the track, her eyes focused and determined, while others were of more personal moments, smiles and laughter frozen in time. I could feel how much these memories meant to her.

As I turned around to take it all in, I heard Blair's voice behind me. "Smile!"

I barely had time to react before I saw her standing there, holding an old camera up to her eye. She looked ridiculous, and yet, ridiculously cute, standing in that moment like she was taking a photo from a different era. "What are you doing?" I asked, a laugh escaping my lips despite myself. "You're not seriously gonna—"

But before I could finish my sentence, there was a blinding flash, and I felt the light burn through my eyelids. My hand instinctively went to shield my eyes, but I didn't have time to recover before Blair's laughter filled the room.

I blinked against the aftereffects of the flash, my gaze snapping to her as she lowered the camera. A small photo was emerging from it, and Blair grabbed it quickly, looking absolutely delighted. "You're so serious," she teased, shaking the photo a little before walking over to the wall of photos.

She pinned it up without hesitation, smiling as she stepped back to admire it. Then, turning to me with that smile still lingering, she said, "Every person who comes here has the right to their own photo. You're no exception."

I crossed my arms, a playful smirk on my face as I walked over to her.

She seemed proud of it. "I mean, it's a tradition," she said, looking at the wall for a moment before meeting my gaze. 

The photo on the wall was simple—me, blinking slightly, with a goofy smile plastered across my face, while Blair looked at me like she knew something I didn't. But as I stood there, watching her, I realized that it wasn't the photo that mattered. It was the feeling of being in this small, intimate space, with her, where everything felt real, unscripted, and completely genuine.

Blair turned toward me, her expression softening as she leaned against the wall of memories. "This place is kind of my little museum," she said, gesturing to the photos and posters around us. "It's not much, but it's... home."

There was something in her voice—vulnerability hidden beneath the casual tone—that made me pause. I looked around again, this time slower, more deliberately. The room wasn't just a collection of memories. It was a glimpse into who she was beneath the confident, competitive exterior she showed the world.

"I like it," I said, meaning every word. "It's very... you."She tilted her head, a smile quirking up one side of her mouth. "What does that mean?"I shrugged, glancing at a photo of her mid-laugh, arms wrapped around two teammates. 

"It means it's full of life. Full of stories."Her smile widened, and for a moment, she looked almost shy. "You know, not everyone gets it. They think it's childish, like holding onto things that should've been left in the past.""Childish?" I echoed, eyebrows raising. 

"It's not childish to hold onto the things that make you happy."Blair raised the camera again, her grin turning mischievous. "Careful, you're starting to sound like you're in love."