challengers • f1

She thought of Max, reckless and brilliant, fire in his eyes. He didn't just race like her-he thought like her. Fast, hard, all or nothing. He saw her, and he respected her, not as a girl but as a rival. As danger.

And Charles. God. Charles was different. Steady and thoughtful. He didn't need to say much to make her feel like she mattered. She knew he didn't take risks easily.

She liked both boys. In different ways. But she loved the way she felt on track. Alone in the kart. Helmet on. No flirting, no dresses, no noise. Just the hum of the engine and the blood in her chest pounding louder than any crowd ever could.

...

Charles exhaled slowly. "You and her," he said, keeping his tone light, careful. "Is there... something I should know?"

Max shrugged, pushing to a sitting position. "Kati does whatever she wants. Always has." Max met his eyes then. There was something guarded there. Something territorial, despite the words. "I'm not stopping her," Max said. "Never would."

"That's not what I asked."

Max scoffed quietly. "Look, man. We grew up together. We race. We fight. We're... whatever we are." He paused. "If she wants you, she can have you."

Charles felt his chest tighten. "And if she doesn't?"

Max smiled thinly. "Then she doesn't."