The next morning, I shove my nerves aside and go through my usual routine.
I glance at my phone and notice a few unread messages from Willie. Looks like Willie's already on top of things...
"Okay, let's see what he's got for me today."
Willie: Liv, sent you the address for NRGYZR HQ.
Willie: Today is mostly administrative stuff, and you'll be touring the facilities.
Liv: Noted.
I set the phone down and start rifling through my closet. After a few minutes, I put together something presentable and head for the door.
After about thirty minutes of driving, I pull up to NRGYZR's HQ. I take a moment to actually look at the building.
Holy crap. This place is definitely a step up from my last team's HQ. I park and head inside.
Stepping into the lobby, I walk toward the receptionist, who glances up and quickly scans me head to toe.
"Wow! Cute outfit. Miss...?" she asks.
"Thank you! It's Young. Liv Young," I answer.
"Please take a seat, Ms. Young. Beatrice will be here momentarily," she says.
About ten minutes later, a woman, maybe in her late forties, emerges from an office a few doors down, approaching with open arms.
"Welcome to NRGYZR, Liv! I'm Beatrice, Head of Operations. We're thrilled you've joined the team," she says warmly.
"Thank you so much! I'm excited to be here," I respond.
Beatrice steps back and takes a moment to appreciate my outfit.
"And you look... absolutely stunning, not to mention prepared! How you present yourself impacts the team's image and leaves an impression on potential sponsors... but with your style, I don't see that being an issue. Absolutely on point and ready for your first day!"
Beatrice leads me down a long, wide corridor. As we walk, she explains the team's rules and procedures, along with some key details about my role.
"Starting today, you're officially NRGYZR's reserve driver," she says.
"That means if either of our two primary drivers are sick, injured, or otherwise unavailable, you step in to race," she continues. "You may be called to race at a moment's notice. For this reason, we expect you to be in peak physical and mental condition at all times..."
She gestures ahead. "...which you can achieve in our state-of-the-art gym, driving simulation lab, and more. As you know, Prisma cars in the Emerald Series differ from the cars you were driving before. They're faster, heavier, and more challenging to handle. We encourage you to practice as much as possible and spend time with your teammates. They can mentor you and help you get up to speed."
She opens a door and gently motions me through. "And here's the gym! Please, this way."
I step inside, jaw dropping. "This gym is huge! How many levels are there?"
"It's two floors," Beatrice replies. "It spans more than six thousand square feet."
My eyes widen. "This gym alone is larger than my last team's entire HQ."
I move through the machines, marveling at the equipment and taking it all in... until my gaze lands on the figure running on the treadmill across the room.
From where I'm standing, I can hear him breathing—each inhale and exhale perfectly in sync with the treadmill's rhythm.
Our eyes meet for just a split second.
For a fleeting moment, his exhale stretches an extra beat—or at least, that's what it feels like.
By the time I blink, he's already locked back onto the screen in front of him, his breathing snapped perfectly back into rhythm.
"Who is that?" I whisper.
I study his face, trying to place him.
"Wait a minute, I've seen him before. Is that—?"
Beatrice smiles knowingly. "Sebastian Martin. The one and only." She taps a pen against her hand. "Although he prefers to go by Seb."
She nods casually toward the trainer hovering nearby. "Looks like they're running endurance tests. Maybe let's hold off on introductions and head to the weight room."
I follow Beatrice back down the corridor, taking the chance to ask a few questions about Seb.
I remember seeing his face plastered on practically every racing magazine at one point.
"I thought Sebastian Ma—" I pause, correcting myself mid-thought. "I mean, Seb was forced into retirement after that catastrophic accident at the Indigo Series Grand Prix several years back, right?"
Beatrice nods.
He must've spent over a year in intensive care. Everyone thought his career
"Surprised?" Beatrice asks.
"A little," I admit.
"NRGYZR picked him up shortly after he announced his return to racing two seasons ago," Beatrice explains.
"Seb has been our team lead since then," she continues. "He's played a key role in helping us establish the NRGYZR youth team. The younger drivers really value his mentorship."
I feel a smile tug at my lips. "I'm happy to hear he's recovered and thriving at NRGYZR."
"Absolutely," Beatrice replies. "He's been dominating the Emerald Series. Honestly, it's a bit of a surprise he isn't driving for an Indigo Series team this year."
I tilt my head. "But what's he doing competing in the Emerald Series?"
"Initially, none of the Indigo Series teams were interested in signing him upon his return," Beatrice explains, "given the length of his absence and the severity of his injuries."
She pauses briefly, then adds, "Likewise, he wasn't ready to compete at that tier again. With injuries that serious, I suspect he signed with an Emerald Series team to avoid the intense competition—and the media attention—that comes with being an Indigo Series driver."
Beatrice's expression softens. "He's an incredibly private person. But judging by how well he's been performing, it's really just a matter of when—not if—he'll sign with an Indigo team."
"And this is our weight room!" she says, as she swings the door open to another room of the facility.
My eyes immediately drift to a woman doing dumbbell rows on a bench, her trainer counting each rep beside her.
"And this is Gemini—"
"Moretti?!" I can't help blurting it out.
"That's right! Or Gemma, as we like to call her," Beatrice replies. "She's the second primary driver on our roster. And I thought you'd recognize her! Female Prisma drivers sticking together, am I right?" She says jokingly.
I remember Gemma from the youth league. We never raced on the same team, but she was always better than me, racing on the teams with older kids. It's nice to see she's still at it.
As Beatrice shifts back to onboarding, walking me through the gym equipment and practice schedules, I can't stop noticing Gemma. Her gaze locks on me, lips curving into a slight smile like she's already figured me out—and isn't impressed.
With one knee and hand on the bench, dumbbell in the other, she powers through her rows, eyes never leaving mine. I'd be lying if I said I don't find her a little intimidating. And, honestly, it doesn't help that she's one of those people who's effortlessly attractive.
Beatrice's voice snaps me out of it. "Time to move on!"
The next hour is a blur of tours: the recovery area with ice baths and massage therapy, the practice lab, the locker room, the cafeteria. Everything about this place screams top-tier.
Finally, we circle back to the HQ lobby where I started the day.
"And that's it!" Beatrice says, smiling. "Let me know if you have any questions. Otherwise, you're free to go. We'll see you bright and early tomorrow!"
"Thank you, Beatrice! I'll see you tomorrow," I say, feeling a mix of exhilaration and being completely overwhelmed the entire time.
I start heading back to my car, still buzzing from the tour.
I reach for my phone to send Willie a quick update about my day.
"Crap!" I mutter.
I pat my pockets frantically, and then it hits me—I must've left my phone somewhere inside the headquarters.
Great.
I turn around and head back inside, trying to retrace my steps from earlier, mentally scanning every room I'd been in. The lobby, the weight room, the practice lab... every corner I'd passed, hoping my phone hadn't wandered too far without me.
I weave through the reception area and start checking the rooms one by one.
Not in the recovery area. Not in the cafeteria.
The only place left is the locker room.
I step inside, and the faint sound of running water echoes off the walls. Then I spot it—my phone lying on the ground next to the bench.
"Finally," I mutter, picking it up and sliding it back into my pocket.
I only notice the shower running once it stops.
"Shit... didn't even realize someone was in here," I think.
Before I can even react, a stall door pushes open, releasing a cloud of steam as someone steps out.