The award ceremony had been held, and a few days later, Zara was on a flight back home with her father, as well as Ethan Moreau. They took business class because they were sponsored by the state, and Zara loved it. It was her first time.
"I will definitely be following you to all races," she grinned, poking her father in the side and then turning to face Ethan. "I feel like a princess."
"You're as beautiful as one," Ethan mumbled. She barely heard it, but still, she had.
A blush crept up her face slowly, and her father shot Ethan a slight glare. He was overprotective of his daughter. Ethan, on the other hand, meant it genuinely.
She was even too beautiful to be considered a princess. Her beauty was ethereal, goddess-like. The way her dark curly hair framed her heart-shaped face, accentuating those otherworldly green, curious eyes of hers. She had olive-tanned skin, a daintily buttoned nose, and full, pouty lips.
"Thanks," she whispered, wishing he would say something more. He was usually quiet, barely speaking unless he was spoken to.
And for a long while, there was silence.
Ethan leaned back in his seat, absently spinning a Sharpie between his fingers. The hum of the plane filled the space, but his attention was on the girl sitting beside him.
Zara.
She was scrolling through her phone, completely engrossed in whatever article she was reading. Probably something about the race. About him.
He was right when he glanced and saw a picture of himself. Ethan smirked. "So, what's the verdict?"
Zara glanced up, confused. "Huh?"
He nodded toward her phone. "You've been reading about me for a while now. Should I be worried?"
She rolled her eyes. "I was just checking the stats. You know, seeing if they'll declare you superhuman or something."
If only she knew.
Ethan chuckled, flipping the Sharpie cap off with one hand. Without thinking much of it, he reached for her hand and began doodling on the back of it. Zara tensed for a moment but didn't pull away.
"Hold still," he murmured, sketching a small design.
She tilted her head, watching as he finished the tattoo-like pattern. "Okay, that's actually good," she admitted, inspecting it. "So you can run, break records, and now you can draw? Is there anything you can't do?"
Ethan hesitated for a fraction of a second before masking it with a grin. "Plenty."
His voice was light, but a small part of him wished she'd stop looking at him like that.
"Like what?"
"Oh, that's a secret," he winked. "Can't let you know that I have flaws."
++++++*
The post-race excitement hadn't died down even after a few days. It seemed like their return back home made the topic go viral again. Everyone was whispering about it, news reporters were flooding the school trying to get to talk to Ethan. There were even rumours that the Italian government wanted Ethan Moreau to run for them and even recruit Santiago Castillo, Zara's father, to be a coach for their national team.
Zara sat with her father and a few other coaches at the training facility, listening as they went on about Ethan's unbelievable performance.
"The way he closed that last stretch—insane," one of the trainers said. "He just zoomed like a bike!"
Coach Castillo, her father, nodded proudly. "I told you all he was special. The Olympics are his next stop."
Zara smiled, but her mind was elsewhere.
She had watched the race footage again. Studied it. And something didn't sit right with her. She rewound a specific clip—Ethan nearing the finish line. For a split second, it was as if the camera couldn't keep up with him. His body blurred, almost like he—
She frowned. That wasn't possible.
Was it?
At the Moreau estate, Ethan had barely stepped inside before his father's voice cut through the air.
"You should have lost that race, Ethan."
Ethan exhaled sharply, turning to face Lorenzo, his father, who stood in the dimly lit room.
"Nice to see you too, Dad."
"This isn't a joke, Ethan. Your face is everywhere. Do you understand what you've done?"
"I ran. I won. That's it," Ethan shrugged.
"That is not it." Lorenzo's voice was dangerously low. "You have made yourself unforgettable. We can no longer move as easily. We can no longer disappear."
Ethan clenched his jaw. "So what? Am I supposed to just let my last year's record be a waste? Let the public know I'm slacking?"
Lorenzo stepped closer, his eyes glinting. "You are a Moreau. You don't get to be human. You don't get to be reckless. Last year was a mistake. We both agreed you wouldn't make again. 1.42... that's a crazy and impossible time."
"Not impossible for me," Ethan said cockily. "Maybe at the Olympics, I'll finish 800 meters in fifty seconds."
Lorenzo finally sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "One mistake, Ethan. One mistake and everything we've built could fall apart."
Ethan swallowed hard but said nothing. He knew his father wasn't wrong, but that didn't mean he had to like it. "I just need a semblance of normalcy in my life," he sighed.
"You can't be, Ethan. Nothing about us is normal. Competing with humans is not even normal."
++++*
School had resumed in full force again; Zara sat on the bleachers with Noah, her childhood best friend. A boy with wavy brown hair and hazel eyes. He was the ladies' man—tall, athletic, and a star basketball player. Any girl in school either had a crush on him or, of course, Ethan Moreau. Lots of girls had even tried befriending Zara just to get close to him.
It was still a few minutes past seven in the morning, and classes were to start by eight o'clock. She watched as Ethan walked across the courtyard. She had spent the whole night overthinking what she had seen in the race footage. The way he moved, the way the cameras struggled to keep up.
Something was off.
"You're staring," Noah teased beside her.
Zara snapped out of it, blinking. "What?"
Noah smirked. "You're staring at Moreau like you've got a whole crush on him."
"I am not—" She felt her face heat up. "I was just thinking."
"Mhm." Noah wiggled his eyebrows. "Thinking about how fine he is?"
Zara groaned, pushing his shoulder. "Shut up."
"What, you don't think he's sexy? 'Cause personally, I would wife him up ASAP!"
"You're so gay," she chuckled.
"Oh, I am—"
But before she could make another joke, something weird happened.
One second, Ethan was right in front of them. The next, he was gone.
Zara blinked. "Wait… where did he go?"
Noah glanced around, confused. "Huh? He was just—"
"Shit, we gotta go. It's seven forty already," Noah said, glancing at his watch. They ran across the field and into the school building, panting as they made it toward their first class. Noah pushed the door open, and they burst in, earning a glare from their teacher.
"You're one minute late, Castillo, King," the teacher said, but that was the least of Zara's concerns.
Ethan was seated in the class, in the front row. She stared at him, trying to make sense of it.
That didn't make sense; he had been around the bleachers with them a few minutes ago.
Hadn't he?