I gave him an hour.
One full hour of me lying in bed, pretending i was too chill to care that my boyfriend was surrounded by fast cars, faster women, and probably at least one girl wearing a crop top with the word "Adrenaline" bedazzled across her chest.
But i am chill.
I'm so chill i literally made a hot chocolate and drank it with pinky up while scrolling through Cairo's tagged photos like a mentally stable girlfriend.
(He looked good in all of them. Ugh. Rude.)
And yet... my third eye twitched.
My gut, my beautiful, intuitive, slightly lactose-intolerant gut—was like:
"Elara. Move."
So i did.
"Where are you going?" asked the doorman as i breezed past him in sunglasses, platform shoes, and my oversized denim jacket like i was auditioning for the role of 'Girlfriend Who Knows Something's Up.'
"Just a little errand," I said sweetly. "No blood will be spilled. Probably."
He blinked. I winked.
Then i booked a Grab.
Destination: The Training Garage of Doom.
(Aka: Cairo's car racing training place.)
When i arrived, I was very much prepared to catch my man mid-sweat, mid-focus, maybe mid-helmet toss, you know? All intense and manly like those racing movies where the guy takes off his helmet in slow motion and his hair just—floofs.
But instead…
I saw this:
Cairo. Laughing.
Not just "Haha" laughing.
Like... leaning-on-his-hip, full teeth, head-tilt, eyes-crinkling kind of laughing.
And who, may i ask, was standing right beside him?
Three Hot Wheels Barbie™-looking girls.
Wearing race suits that were so tight they looked airbrushed on.
One had a ponytail so long it looked like a jump rope. The other was tossing her gloves flirtatiously. The third? SHE TOUCHED HIS SHOULDER.
I swear to God, I blacked out for 0.4 seconds.
But then i inhaled. And exhaled. Because i am not that girlfriend.
I trust Cairo.
He doesn't even watch love scenes in movies without looking stressed.
So instead of storming in there with a megaphone and a PowerPoint on "Why You Should All Back Off," I did what any rational, emotionally stable, totally calm woman would do—
I waved.
Aggressively.
From across the garage.
Like a mascot.
Cairo spotted me instantly.
His smile turned into one of those surprised-but-relieved ones. You know the kind that says "Oh thank God, it's just my dramatic girlfriend and not a sponsor with a clipboard."
He jogged over.
The girls turned too.
One of them squinted at me.
And i swear she did a head tilt. The universal signal for "Who's this and why is she cute?"
I beamed.
"I come in peace," I said, hands up.
"You surprised me," Cairo said, grinning.
"I know," I said. "I'm a gift."
He laughed and kissed my cheek right in front of them.
Score: Elara – 1. Hot Barbie Racers – emotionally devastated.
"Are you training with them?" I asked as we walked toward the bleachers.
"Yeah. They're pros. National champions."
"Oh wow," I said, sipping from my iced drink. "So they're hot and fast."
Cairo glanced at me sideways. "Jealous?"
"No," I said sweetly. "I think it's cute how you're laughing with people who can probably drift around a corner at 200kph while applying eyeliner."
He chuckled. "You're not mad?"
I shook my head. "Nope. Why would i be? I mean, do i have a slight itch in my soul because your bicep was touched by Miss Ponytail Olympics? Sure. But am i mature enough to process that in a healthy way? Also yes."
He laughed. "You're insane."
I kissed his cheek. "Only for you."
We sat together for a bit, watching the others prep for their laps. Cairo explained some of the mechanics. I nodded like i understood anything about torque or downforce.
One of the girls waved at him again.
I waved back.
With a smile that said: "Hi, I love women. But I love my man more. Try it and i'll destroy you."
Then i leaned over to Cairo and whispered, "Don't worry. I'm not jealous. But i will be attending every training session from now on. As your emotional support human."
"You mean as my watchdog."
"Semantics."
He just grinned and handed me his water bottle like the simp he secretly is.
In conclusion:
I am not a possessive girlfriend.
I am a present girlfriend.
There's a difference.
Also, Miss Ponytail still glared at me when we left together.
To which i say:
Stay pressed, sweetie. He's mine.
-
We were halfway through dinner when i decided to plot my revenge.
"Are you okay?" Cairo asked between bites of his grilled salmon.
"Me? Oh, I'm thriving," I said with a smile so wide and suspicious it could've been studied in a psychology class. "Just thinking."
He narrowed his eyes. "That's scarier than you being mad."
I took a dainty sip of water. "You wound me."
We were at this lowkey resto near our condo, tucked in a quiet corner booth, just the two of us. Cairo's hair was still damp from training, his hoodie smelled like gasoline and lemon, and his face had that flushed, post-practice glow.
So obviously, this was the perfect time to execute my plan:
Operation: Petty but Pretty.
Step one? Take a fire selfie.
I turned on my front cam and posed like i was doing a campaign shoot for "Girlfriend of a Race Car Driver But Also International Supermodel."
Chin up. Lashes out. Half-smirk. One shoulder revealed.
Click.
Then i flipped my hair and added an Instagram story caption:
"Out with my favorite boy. But the waiter's cute too 😉"
Cairo choked on his drink.
"WHAT DID YOU POST?" he said, reaching for my phone.
I held it above my head. "Too late, 300 people already saw it."
"Elara."
"Hmm?"
"You're literally unhinged."
"Thanks, babe. That's the goal."
He rolled his eyes but smiled. "You're unbelievable."
"And yet… you believe in me," I said, placing my hand over my heart like i just won Best Actress.
He groaned.
I winked.
We finished eating, and Cairo insisted on paying even though i argued that my emotional damage should've been compensated.
"I had to watch you giggle like a Disney prince while being surrounded by Girls Who Can Parallel Park In Heels," I said, crossing my arms dramatically. Well, maybe some of you are asking or thought i already moved on. But guess what, Dora! I'M NOT.
"I was being nice," he defended.
"You were being hilarious," I said. "And that's worse. You should've looked miserable. Distracted. Longing for your girlfriend who was miles away, busy being beautiful on set."
"You're insane," he laughed, grabbing my hand.
"You chose this."
"I really did."
After dinner, we walked back to the condo like one of those normal couples. Except we weren't normal.
Because i was walking backwards in platforms while ranting about how hot girls in race suits should be illegal.
"I mean, crop tops are fine. Low-waist jeans? Cute. But when they know how to shift gears faster than my mood? That's a violation of the girlfriend code."
Cairo just kept laughing. "You are so dramatic."
"I'm a screen actress. What do you expect?"
We reached our building and stopped by the elevator. I clung to his hoodie sleeve like a koala.
"I'll see you tomorrow?" I asked, pouting slightly.
"I'll text you when training ends," he said, brushing my bangs away from my forehead. "You gonna sleep early?"
"Maybe," I said. "Or maybe I'll create a burner Twitter account and reply to everyone who thinks Miss Ponytail would be a better match for you."
"Elara."
"Kidding!" (I was not kidding.)
He leaned down and kissed me on the forehead. "I love you, even if you're 90% chaos."
I beamed. "And I love you, even though your judgment in laughing proximity is sometimes questionable."
"Bye, baby," he said, getting in his unit.
"Bye, handsome," I replied. "Text me when you're done, or I'll assume you ran off with someone named Danica who knows how to tune an engine blindfolded."
"I—what?" he laughed.
Too late. I blew a kiss and turned around.
Back in my unit, I took off my shoes, flopped onto the couch, and stared at the ceiling.
I missed him already.
It's weird, right? How you can spend an entire evening with someone and still feel like it wasn't enough?
But i wasn't sad.
Because i trust him.
Because he chose me.
Because even if i get a little Elara-esque when it comes to my man, at the end of the day—
He laughs hardest when he's with me.
Not with Miss Ponytail. Not with the pit crew. Not even with the hot waiter from earlier.
Me.
Still, just to be safe…
I opened my group chat with my Ari and the AI. and i typed:
"I need a crash course in race car lingo. I'm joining training next week as Cairo's support system-slash-emotional chaperone-slash-girlfriend who isn't here to play."
Then i added:
"Also, does anyone know where to buy a pink helmet?"
Just in case.