Until my Last Breath

36

Las Vegas, USA.

A few weeks have passed, and for the first time in a while, I feel... steady. Life is still chaotic-flying between countries, juggling training sessions, meetings, and everything in between-but it's different now. The weight that sat heavy on my chest has loosened. Maybe it's the wins stacking up or the fact that I've been letting myself breathe again.

The one thing I haven't brought myself to do, though, is have a proper night out. My idea of celebrating is room service and a quiet evening in. It's become my safe zone.

After the Vegas race-another win in the books-I'm back in the paddock, winding down and preparing to head back to my hotel when I hear it: Lando's unmistakable voice.

"Rita!" he yells, jogging toward me in his papaya suit, grinning like he's just pulled off the perfect overtake. "You know? they say coming to Vegas without crashing a club is bad luck."

I laugh, shaking my head. "You're kidding, right? It's been a long day."

"Not kidding," he says, crossing his arms in mock seriousness. "Vegas, Rita. You can't win here and then hide in your hotel room like you're eighty."

"You're insane," I mutter, brushing past him, but he follows, relentless.

"Think about it," he insists, walking backward in front of me. "A few drinks. A bit of fun. You've earned it."

I roll my eyes, but he catches the twitch of a smile I can't quite suppress. "I'll think about it," I say, more to shut him up than anything else.

"That's all I ask!" he calls after me, triumphant.

Back in my hotel room, I drop my bag on the floor and sink into the edge of the bed. The silence feels heavier here, the excitement of the track replaced by the steady hum of the air conditioning. I catch my reflection in the mirror, my post-race glow starting to fade.

Go out, huh?

I think about Lando's words, about how I've been running on autopilot for weeks, sticking to the same routines. Would it kill me to change things up?

Before I can decide, my phone buzzes on the nightstand. It's Gavi.

Gavi- So, what's the plan tonight, champ? Big win like that, you better not say room service.

Ever since that phone call weeks ago, he's been in my orbit more than ever. The texts, the calls-they've become something of a routine. The awkwardness has faded, replaced by a comfort I didn't know I was capable of feeling with someone outside my inner circle.

I don't know what to make of these calls with him. On one hand, they're comforting. Talking to him feels easy, like I can finally breathe for a bit, and it's nice having someone to share small moments with. It's simple, no pressure, and I find myself looking forward to them more than I expected.

But then, there's this lingering feeling of uncertainty. I'm not used to this kind of connection-one that's built on constant check-ins and genuine interest. It's new territory for me, and I'm not sure where it's headed. I just know that, for now, it feels good. And maybe that's enough.

I sigh, smiling to myself as I type back.

Rita- Room service sounds perfect, actually.

His reply comes faster than I expect.

Gavi- You're unbelievable. Vegas, Rita. You're in Vegas. Go out.

Rita- Is this some kind of slogan, everyone keeps saying that.

Gavi- It is a fact. You're seriously considering staying in after THAT race?