Forgotten on the Grid

The Ferrari garage was electric.

Engines blared on the monitors, headsets buzzed with chatter, and every time Charles made a move, the whole place leaned in as one.

I stood at the back, arms crossed, watching the screen like my life depended on it. Beside me, Seb was all nerves and tension—just like the old clips of him on the pit wall. He still couldn't watch a race calmly, even if he wasn't the one driving.

Charles was flying.

Lap after lap, he held off Max like a man possessed. Carlos wasn't far behind either, keeping the pressure on the Red Bull. It was the kind of race that made people fall in love with this sport—and you could feel it in the garage. Mechanics gripping tools like they were rosary beads, strategists frozen mid-note, the whole place just... holding its breath.

And then it happened.

Charles crossed the line first. Max second. Carlos third.

The garage exploded.

Cheers, hugs, high-fives. Someone knocked over a stool in the chaos. Someone else popped a bottle of champagne even though the podium celebration hadn't started yet. It was loud, messy, joyful.

I smiled because I couldn't help it. This was what it was supposed to feel like.

Seb turned to me, that familiar glint in his eye. "Come on. Let's go see the podium."

We followed the others out into the sunlight, pushing through the crowd gathering around the steps. Ferrari red was everywhere—flags waving, fans chanting. I stayed close to Seb's side as we walked beneath the grandstand, then up toward the back of the podium stage.

The crowd roared as Charles climbed up. He waved to the sea of tifosi, beaming.

Carlos joined him. Max, too.

Seb placed a hand on my shoulder and leaned in. "Soak it in," he said. "You'll be up there one day."

I wanted to believe him. I really did.

But then I saw him.

Standing off to the side, a step back from the drivers, wearing Red Bull gear and sunglasses perched on his head—Arvid.

Arvid fucking Lindblad.

Of course he was here.

He looked relaxed. Like he belonged.

He didn't see me at first, too busy chatting with someone from the Red Bull camp. But when he did, his gaze flickered—just for a second. No smile. No wave. Just that unreadable expression he wore so well.

My stomach twisted. Not because I cared what he thought. But because I suddenly felt like the only person in this entire place who didn't belong.

—————

The crowd was thinning now. Most of the guests had peeled away to hospitality or disappeared into the paddock, still buzzing from the race. I walked just behind Seb, heading back toward the Ferrari garage when I felt a shoulder nudge hard into mine.

I stopped. "Seriously?"

Arvid Lindblad turned around like he hadn't just veered straight into me.

"Oh," he said, like it was some kind of accident. "Didn't see you there."

I rolled my eyes. "You always drive like that too?"

He smirked—just a flash. "Only when it works."

Seb turned back, watching us. "Everything alright?"

Arvid's expression changed instantly. Like a switch had been flipped. He straightened a little, suddenly more composed, respectful. "You're Sebastian Vettel, right?"

Seb raised an eyebrow but smiled politely. "That's what they tell me."

"I just wanted to say—it's an honour to meet you," Arvid said, extending his hand. "I grew up watching you. Big fan."

Seb shook his hand firmly, but his eyes flicked back to me for a moment. "Thanks. Are you racing this weekend?"

"No, just here for the junior program stuff," Arvid replied. "Red Bull brought a few of us out."

Seb nodded. "Always good to observe. See how things work at the top."

Arvid glanced at me, then back at Seb. "I've been racing with Lydia this season. She's... quick."

My jaw clenched. That pause meant something. Seb caught it too.

"She is," Seb said, voice calm but cool. "She's been quick her whole life. Just doesn't always get credit for it."

Arvid gave a tight-lipped smile. "Yeah. Anyway, I should get back before they send a search party."

He looked at me again, like he wanted to say something else—but didn't. Instead, he turned and melted back into the Red Bull crowd.

Seb and I stood in silence for a moment.

"He's charming," I muttered.

Seb let out a soft breath. "And calculated. Keep your eyes open with that one."

I already was.