Page 82 of Overtake
Now the car turns in to the car park. Beside me, Cin squeezes my hand. “Ready?”
“Ready.” I open my eyes and nod. The initial shock of the photo’s leak has bled off. My attention needs to be on doing my job. Morning prep and a workout in the hotel gym has me (mostly) centered and focused. Whatever chaos waits outside doesn’t matter.
The walk to the Nitro garage feels like a gauntlet, but my team keeps the press at a professional distance. Rodrigo’s taken the lead ahead of Cin, me, and Claudia, and his massive frame offers no option to anyone except to move the hell out of the way. Bless the gentle giant.
Pink-streaked hair and rabbit ears are everywhere. The combined fan clubs have definitely mobilized.
But so has the media.
“Petra!” a reporter shouts over the crowd. “Any concerns about team loyalty with your relationship?”
“Are you worried people think you’re sleeping your way to wins?” another calls out.
“Does Nitro management approve of fraternizing with rival drivers?”
I keep walking, jaw tight. This is exactly the bullshit I feared.
Inside the garage, Nitro’s morning routine continues despite the circus out in the paddock. Bowie offers a fist bump as I pass. One of Reece’s mechanics winks and another mouths, “Good on you,” while she moves a tire rack. Even the no-nonsense logistics blokes give me a couple of thumbs up.
Dad’s eye-roll when I enter the engineering room is practically audible, but his smile takes the edge off. “Managed to complicate an already complicated race, I see.”
“You know me.” I grab a seat. “I never do anything by halves.” I’m grateful that he hasn’t asked me why I didn’t confess to the kiss last night, because I don’t have a good answer.
Asuka doesn’t even look up from her data. “If you’re done breaking the internet, can we focus on the overnight modifications?”
Her all-business non-reaction settles me completely. Trust our chief engineer to care about what affects the car, not the driver.
“Absolutely. The rear suspension is what matters right now.” Everyone dons a headset. We’ll be radio-only for all meetings until the race is over. “What am I dealing with?”
“We’ve compensated as much as we can through diff maps and brake bias.” She pulls up diagnostics and charts. “But you’ll need to be extremely precise with your inputs. The differential settings are creative.”
“Definecreative.”
“We’re running a looser diff on entry and mid-corner. It’ll help mask the suspension issue, but you’ll have to manage the car manually.”
“Especially under braking and downshifts.” Bowie highlights several curves in the data for me.
Asuka continues. “Turn-in will be trickier. You’ll feel some instability in high-speed corners, particularly if you get on the power too early.”
“The trade-off is better rotation,” Zara adds. “If you can handle the looser rear, you might actually find more speed through some corners.”
“Mightbeing the operative word,” Bowie mutters. “One wrong input or moment of lost focus and you’ll be eating gravel.”
“Got it.” I memorize the critical parameters. “What about tire management?”
“That’s the other challenge.” Asuka pulls up temperature maps for all of us to see. “The revised settings put more stress on the left rear. You need to pay attention to heat buildup.”
Right. Just manage an unstable rear end, watch tire temperatures, handle manual differential adjustments, competitors on the track, and oh yeah, deal with the media frenzy about kissing a rival driver.
I nod and flash a smile for the team. “Just another race day, then.”
We move on to strategy specifics, then it’s time for me to chill out.
When we leave the garage for the business unit, the energy outside has shifted from media circus to street festival. Music pumps from a DJ booth and the Honeys and Bunnies have transformed the paddock into an impromptu celebration.
“Look at this.” Claudia’s grinning as she hands me a pink shirt. “Hot Bunny Luvin’is trending harder than the actual photo.”
The shirts are everywhere, stylized rabbit ears forming a heart above the words. Match that with the face paint—pink rabbit-ear hearts decorating cheeks of fans of all genders—and it’s less scandal, more celebration.
