Page 84 of Speed Crush

I take a step toward her, drawn in like always, but she’s still in the middle of recalibrating with Raf—confident, in her element. So I stay just outside the circle, not wanting to crowd her. Then, she glances up and finds me anyway. Her smile deepens and she waves me over.

“Coming from Raf,” I murmur once I finally reach her side, “the highest-paid F1 mechanic in the industry... that’s saying something.”

It’s a tease, but the pride in my voice gives me away.

I wrap an arm around her shoulders and pull her into my side. She leans in without hesitation—radiant and completely herself—and I swear, no win, no podium, has ever hit me like this..

By the end of the day, she’s drinking coffee with the staff, cracking jokes with Raf, and leaning on the counter beside the whiteboard—listening to compound chatter and asking questions but not writing anything down. Just soaking it all in, like she’s finding her rhythm without needing to prove herself.

One of the engineers claps me on the shoulder.

“She’s sharp. And not bored out of her mind like most of the girlfriends. You hit the jackpot, man—she actually loves this stuff. Half of us can’t even talk shop with our own drivers without getting a blank stare. But her? She might know more than most of them.”

I huff a quiet laugh, pride simmering just beneath the surface. Already, I’m hatching the next Verelli plan—because she’s not just sharp. She’s rare. And maybe, if she’s open to it, there’s a way to bring her into this world of Formula One even more. Not just as a guest. But as part of something real. Something ours.

That night, we walk back to the hotel. Her hand is in mine. The air’s cool, crisp, and light. Like anything could happen.

“Today was… beyond good,” I say, and it rumbles out of me before I can soften it. I glance down at her—walking beside me, hand in mine, in this tucked-away corner of Italy that somehow feels like ours. It’s surreal. It’s a little disorienting. But it’s also the kind of quiet euphoria that settles deep in your chest and refuses to leave.

She nods, then suddenly spins in front of me—arms slightly out like she’s too excited to hold it in. She’s half-skipping, eyes wide, full of light. “Can you believe it, Noah? Me? In a garage full of F1 engineers, and I actually helped. I said something useful!”

She laughs, a little breathless. “My dad’s gonna lose his mind when he hears about this. He’s going to be like, ‘You said what to an F1 engineer?!’”

I laugh, watching the way she beams up at me.

"You mean like this?” I drop into my best Mack impression: dry tone, amused drawl. “You said what to an F1 engineer? Bet you had half the garage holding their breath.”

June cackles, nearly tripping over her own feet. “Stop! That’s disturbingly accurate.”

She sighs. “I think that’s going in the highlight reel of my life.”

“You were incredible.” I put my hand on her head like she’s a little child.

She laughs and pats her own shoulder with exaggerated flair. “Good job, June. Way to impress Noah’s colleagues like a total pro.”

I pull her straight into my arms. “You more than impressed my colleagues... and my boss... and me.”

She giggles, her face against my chest, and I kiss the top of her head.

“Seriously, how did I get a girlfriend who’s beautiful, sexy, and apparently F1-ready?”

She lets out a sexy, throaty laugh, then pulls back just enough to look up at me—her eyes dancing. “F1-ready, huh?” She leans in and kisses me, soft and quick. “Hardly. Your team is incredible. I was just lucky enough to catch something familiar.”

“You don’t have to know everything,” I say, bumping her shoulder with mine. “But do you think you’d want to learn more? I'm asking because you look so happy now.”

I hold my breath. Time to implement the next Verelli plan—plant the idea, let it breathe, and see if she bites. Not pushy. Just a nudge. A what-if. Because if she wants this, really wants it... I’ll move mountains.

She glances up at me, surprised. Then she nods. “Maybe. If someone’s patient enough to explain it to me.”

“Lucky for you, I know a guy.”

We keep walking in easy silence, the kind that feels less like a pause and more like a breath before something good.

After a while, I add, “I might’ve mentioned something to Dante.”

She gives me a sideways glance. “Mentioned what?”

“That if you ever wanted to spend more time around the garage... maybe shadow Raf or just poke around, if he’d be open to it.”

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