The morning sun cuts straight through my blinds and into my eyes.
I groan and roll over, but it's no use. I'm awake.
I push myself upright, blinking into the light as reality settles in.
It's official, I'm going to Dubai. This will be my first race weekend on the road as an official member of NRGYZR—albeit as a reserve driver. Still, the thought sends a ripple of excitement through me.
As I move around my room getting ready, my mind drifts back over the last few days.
Noel and Seb are magnetic in completely different ways.
Noel is easy, outgoing, charismatic.
But Seb is... something else. There's something about him that pulls me in, even if he's still a little guarded.
I shake my head at my thought. Thinking about Seb and Noel isn't going to get me to the airport on time.
Focus.
I grab an outfit suitable for a long travel day; it's comfortable but still put-together.
"Okay," I murmur, twisting in front of the mirror. "This will do."
Bags packed, I load everything into my car and head out.
The airport is a blur of announcements, foot traffic, and rolling suitcases.
After checking in, I meet the team at the departure gate. A coordinator runs through roll call, and soon we're boarding.
As I move down the aisle looking for my seat, I spot Seb already buckled in.
He looks up and smiles.
It's warm. Effortless. The sort of smile that makes the world narrow.
I stop beside him. "Hey there."
"Hey."
Then he abruptly turns away and sneezes into his arm.
"Sorry," he mutters.
"Are you sick?"
"Allergies," he says. "They flare up this time of year."
Before I can say anything else, a flight attendant politely clears his throat behind me, and I continue down the aisle.
Two rows back, Gemma sits exactly as expected. She has her headphones on, phone in hand, and isn't acknowledging anyone.
I settle into my seat and tuck my bag under the one in front of me.
After takeoff, I scroll through movies, starting three and finishing none. I drift in and out of light sleep, never fully resting.
By the time the wheels touch down, my brain feels cottony from the time change. The airport air is warm and heavy, and I move through passport control and baggage claim like I'm underwater.
The bus ride to the hotel is a haze of engine hum and blinking streetlights.
When we finally step into the hotel lobby, the air conditioning hits like a shockwave, snapping me fully awake.
Esteban stands near the front desk, flipping through printed itineraries.
The team gathers around as he starts handing out room keys.
I hang back, partially shielded behind a few teammates.
Between the flight, the heat, and the jet lag, I feel absolutely disgusting, and Seb is the last person I want seeing me right now.
Still, I glance over.
Of course he looks good.
How does someone step off a long-haul flight looking like that?
He's at the concierge desk, asking a question.
The woman behind the counter straightens instantly as soon as she sees him, smoothing her blazer and leaning forward just slightly.
I find myself watching.
He pulls out his phone and shows her something. She leans closer, elbows resting on the counter in a way that feels intentional.
"Liv."
Esteban's voice snaps me back to earth.
I turn to see him holding out my room key.
"Thanks."
He finishes distributing keys and runs through a quick overview of the weekend schedule.
"Seb is confirming the details of tonight's dinner," Esteban adds. "It's going to be here at the hotel."
I glance back at the desk.
They're still talking.
The concierge scribbles something onto a slip of paper and slides it across to Seb with a wink.
The exchange forms a knot in my stomach, though I know it shouldn't.
People start moving toward the elevators, and I follow.
There's no point in standing there watching. Whatever they're talking about, it doesn't concern me.
***
The view from my hotel room knocks the fatigue straight out of me.
I stop to admire the center center below, gawking at the glass towers and sunlight steel perfectly framed by floor-to-ceiling windows in my room. Dubai is bustling with a kind of sleek, effortless power.
And just like that, I feel awake again.
I check the time on my phone. Plenty of time before dinner.
But before I can plan anything, my phone lights up.
Willie.
I answer immediately. "Hey, Willie."
"You guys checked in yet?"
"Yep."
"And how's the room?"
I glance back at the skyline. "The view is insane."
"Good to hear. I just wanted to check in before the weekend."
His tone shifts to something slightly more professional.
"I know this is your first time in Dubai, but you're still technically working—even though Gemma and Seb are the ones driving this weekend."
Right.
"That includes tonight," he adds.
"Are you talking about the dinner?"
"Yes. It's the perfect opportunity to network."
"With potential sponsors?"
"Exactly."
"On it."
After my call, I unpack a few essentials, change into something lighter, and head out.
Dubai during the day feels almost unreal.
Sleek architecture stretches toward the sky. Water features sparkle between polished walkways. High-end storefronts line the streets like curated art.
I wander for over an hour, letting myself absorb it.
I can't wait to see what this place looks like at night.
As the sun grows stronger, I duck into a nearby mall for relief.
A boutique window catches my eye; there are mannequins draped in dresses that look made for evenings like tonight.
Before I know it, I'm inside.
By the time I step back out, shopping bag in hand, the sun is well on its way to setting—and I'm officially behind schedule.
The second I get to my room, I drop the bag on the chair and turn the shower on. Thirty minutes later, my hair is dry, my skin warm from steam.
When I emerge from the bathroom, the room is dim, and the skyline outside my window has transformed into black silhouettes dotted with shimmering lights.
"Wow," I breathe. It's breathtaking.
By the time I arrive at the downstairs ballroom, guests are already mingling with pre-dinner cocktails in hand.
A server approaches. "Refreshment?"
I take one, offering a polite smile before scanning the room.
Near the bar, Gemma is surrounded by people.
One man stands closer than the others.
He looks familiar.
I tilt my head slightly, studying him, trying to place where I've seen him before—
"This place makes the best drinks."
Seb's voice cuts through my thoughts.
My heart jolts when I realize he's standing right beside me.
"Yep," I say, trying to sound casual.
I tuck a strand of hair behind my ear, then turn just enough to steal a look at him from my peripheral. Tonight is the first night I'm seeing Seb in something more polished.
And my god, he did not disappoint. Seb is wearing a fitted collared shirt with slacks, the fabric skimming his frame in a way that makes me drool.
Who knew someone could look this sexy in work attire?
I snap my gaze back to the bar before staring becomes a liability.
"Who's Gemma talking to?" I ask, trying to sound neutral.
He signals for the staff the moment her glass is low, laughs at everything she says, and he looks for every excuse to touch her arm or shoulder.
"Dirk Zinfenburg," Seb says.
My eyes widen. "The billionaire?"
"He bought into an Indigo Series team a few years ago, and he scouts talent at Emerald events."
Seb pauses.
"He's been... keen on Gemma."
There's something tight in his voice.
"Do me a favor," he adds quietly. "Steer clear of him."
"Okay..."
I study him.
Is that jealousy?
Seb's attention shifts back to me fully then, and I freeze.
His gaze drags slowly over me.
"By the way," he starts.
He stops.
Inhales.
"You look really, really nice tonight."
The pause says more than the words, and I look away, heat creeping up my neck.
A delicate clink-clink-clink of a fork hitting glass slices clean through the tension.
Dinner begins, and the meal is surprisingly good. Conversation flows easily.
When dinner wraps, guests are invited to stay for drinks—most do.
I spot Seb across the room, standing with one hand in his pocket and a beer in the other. He's speaking to two men from Prisma, nodding occasionally.
Every so often, he smiles at something they say. It's a small, sharp smile that draws attention to his jawline in a way that's a bit too captivating.
Out of nowhere, a well-dressed man, who appears to be in his mid-30s steps into my line of sight.
"Excuse me," he says smoothly. "You look absolutely radiant."
I smile politely. "Thank you."
"Alain."
We shake hands.
"I don't recognize you. Are you new to NRGYZR?"
"Yes. I'm the new reserve driver."
His eyebrows lift.
"Then you must be quite talented."
Behind him, I catch Seb looking over. His smile drops when Alain leans closer.
After ten or so minutes of small talk, Alain excuses himself, brushing a polite kiss to the back of my hand before stepping away.
By now, the room has thinned out, but Seb and Gemma are still here.
Seb is deep in conversation with one of the engineers when I walk over to join them. He glances at me, offers a quick "hey," but his attention drifts almost immediately.
My gaze slides toward the bar.
Gemma's still there with Dirk. The rest of their group has peeled away, leaving just the two of them. She throws her head back, laughing at something he says.
Seb's gaze darts between us and the bar.
Then Dirk orders another round, and something in Seb's posture shifts.
Seb is speaking to us, when decidely interrupts the engineer mid-sentence to excuse himself.
"I'm sorry—excuse me," he cuts in, interrupting the engineer mid-sentence.
We both watch as he cuts through the room with quiet intensity. The server arrives with a fresh tray of drinks at the exact moment Seb reaches them.
"Mr. Zinfenburg, I think my teammate's had enough," he says firmly.
Dirk ignores him.
Gemma reaches unsteadily for the tray and knocks into it instead.
Gemma stumbles; Dirk catches her immediately, wrapping an arm around her lower waist. Then, as he pulls her upright, he subtly drags at the front of her dress, tugging it just enough to show more cleavage.
My skin crawls.
"Mr. Zinfenburg, Gemma has to wake up early tomorrow and—," Seb protests.
But Dirk doesn't even acknowledge him. Instead, he looks at Gemma with an exaggerated pout.
"Aww, sweetheart. You've spilled all over your beautiful dress. Let's get you upstairs," Dirk murmurs.
Seb steps closer.
"She's not going anywhere with you. She's clearly drunk, and she's driving tomorrow"
Dirk smirks. "You her husband or something?"
The question catches Seb off guard, a faint look of surprise flashes across his face.
Seb's jaw tightens.
"She's taken."
The air shifts.
Dirk steps closer, chest to chest with Seb, trying to loom.
"She clearly enjoys getting around," Dirk remarks, daring him to react.
It doesn't work. Seb stands his ground.
Eventually, Dirk shoves Gemma toward him and walks away.
Seb catches her effortlessly, one arm around her back, the other steadying her legs. She curls slightly into him, completely unaware of what's happening.
The way he holds her is different. With me, he hesitates. With her, he reacts.
The realization sits heavy in my stomach.
"I should get her to her room," he says.
"Here, let me give you a hand."
Together, we cradle Gemma, ushering her into the elevator, then down the hallway and into her room. Seb lowers her onto the bed, and she immediately rolls onto her side, mumbling incoherently.
***
The room is dark, but the spill of city lights through the window paints everything in hues of dark blue and shadows.
For the first time all day, the noise and movement fall away.
I walk toward the window, letting the quiet swallow me as I take in the skyline.
Now that I'm finally still, my body feels impossibly heavy. I fold my arms leaning my weight into one hip as I stare out at the lights, blinking slowly, letting myself melt into the moment.
"Hey."
I pivot just enough to keep the skyline in my peripheral, and suddenly Seb is there—closer than I expected, filling my line of sight.
The dim light cuts across his face, carving shadows along his features while softening his expression.
He steps forward, closing the space between us. Leaning forward, our noses brush, but he doesn't kiss me—instead, he hovers, like he's testing me.
The anticipation twists hot in my chest.
If he doesn't kiss me, I might lose my mind.
Finally, his lips touch mine.
Tentatively.
Then again—until the restraint holding the two of us back snaps, and my hands slide up around his neck, pulling him in.
His mouth parts against mine, and our tongues meet, slow at first, then hungry, until we settle into an easy rhythm.
Everything around me narrows.
Then—
"Huh? Who's there?"
Gemma's voice.
We both jerk slightly, having completely forgotten her existence. Seb pulls away first, chest rising, lips still parted.
He drags a hand through his hair, trying to collect himself, jaw tight.
When he looks at me again, his eyes are different; they're shadowed with guilt, restraint, irritation at himself for losing control, even for a moment.
"I'm sorry."
Sorry for what?
I'm not exactly sure what his apology means, but dragging it out of him would only complicate things for everyone—me, him, the team.
Still, the apology stings.
Gemma rustles again, mumbling something into her pillow. Seb sighs quietly, tension settling back into his shoulders.
"We should go," he says.
He's right.
At the door, he lingers like he wants to say something.
But he doesn't.
"Goodnight, Seb." I force a small, polite smile.
"Goodnight."
And for the first time since arriving in Dubai—I have no idea where I stand.