Pole Position: Between Logic and Passion

I wasn’t supposed to be there.

Technically, I was still on light duties. Working from home. Resting. Recovering. Taking it easy. But that morning, I woke up with this feeling in my chest — an itch, a need to do something that wasn’t part of any recovery plan. I wanted to surprise Charles. No reason. Just… because. Because he’d been incredible. Because I missed us outside of hospitals and injuries and worried glances. Because I could.

So I put on real clothes — okay, soft jeans and the least offensive sweater I owned — grabbed the keys, and made my way to the Ferrari factory.

A few people did a double take as I walked in, probably wondering why I wasn’t at home with my foot propped up and a heating pad on my ribs. I waved, smiled, kept moving.

Charles was in the sim room when I found him, fully focused, his jaw tight, hands moving with that impossible precision that still made me stare. He didn’t see me right away — too caught up in whatever run they had him doing. I leaned quietly against the doorframe, arms crossed, just watching.

He finally noticed me as the simulation ended, helmet lifting slightly as he turned toward the sound of footsteps.

His eyes widened. “Amy?”

I grinned. “Hi.”

He blinked. “What are you—? You’re supposed to be home.”

“I know.”

“You’re not supposed to be walking around this much.”

“I know that too.”

He stepped out of the rig, pulling the gloves from his hands, still looking stunned. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” I said, pushing off the doorframe. “Really. No pain. No drama. I just… wanted to come pick you up.”

“Pick me up?”

“Mhmm.” I held up the keys and jingled them slightly. “You’re coming with me.”

His brows lifted. “Where?”

“That,” I said, “is a surprise.”

Charles narrowed his eyes slightly, like he was trying to read me — which never worked, and he should’ve known that by now.

“I’ll be in the break room,” I added, already backing away with a smug little smile. “You’ve got thirty minutes. Then you’re mine.”

“Thirty,” he repeated, chuckling. “That’s all I need. I’m good to go after that.”

I turned on my heel, leaving him still slightly dazed in the sim room, and made my way to the break area, heart fluttering in this weird, happy rhythm I hadn’t felt in a while. It felt good to do something just for him. For us.

---

Thirty-five minutes later Charles emerged from the corridor in his Ferrari gear, hair a little messy, duffel bag slung over one shoulder, and that familiar glint in his eyes.

“You’re really not going to tell me anything, are you?” he asked as we walked out toward the parking lot.

“Nope.”

“Not even a hint?”

I slid into the driver’s seat and watched him buckle up beside me. “Not even one.”

He eyed me suspiciously as I started the car and pulled out onto the road. “Okay, so… is this just for tonight? Should I be canceling anything for tomorrow? Do I need a toothbrush?”

“I already packed for you,” I said simply.

His head turned so fast I could feel the air shift. “You what?”