Lombardinii
I'm nineteen, driving for Haas in Formula 1, and I should probably be focusing on not crashing into barriers at 200mph.
Instead, I'm completely obsessed with Oscar Piastri.
Oscar, who drives for McLaren and is basically perfect at everything. Oscar, who has a girlfriend and a life that makes sense. Oscar, who found me awake at 3am in a hotel in Japan and made me realize I was completely screwed.
Here's the thing about being in love with someone you can't have: it's like being stuck in the fastest car in the world with no brakes. Every race weekend, every shared hotel, every random conversation in airport lounges just makes it worse. And the worst part? Sometimes I catch him looking at me like maybe, just maybe, he feels it too.
But this is Formula 1. This is the most masculine, most watched, most impossible place in the world to fall for your fellow driver. Especially when that driver is Oscar Piastri, and especially when you're just Oliver Bearman trying to figure out who the hell you're supposed to be.
Some crashes you see coming from miles away.
Others happen in the space of a heartbeat, when someone smiles at you in the steam of an onsen and suddenly your whole world tilts sideways.
This is the story of my spectacular emotional crash. Turns out falling for the wrong person at 200mph hurts just as much as you'd think.
Maybe more.