Masterlist - The Seven Acts Series
Book Five/Seven
Part 3
WC: 48k
PAIRINGS: Park Jongseong x Female Oc
CONTAINS: Romance, Friends to lovers, Insecurity, Jealousy, Chaotic Kid, Near death experience, Obliviousness, Day one Yearning, Tension, Drama, Lil bit of Comedy, Enha ensemble cameos, Confessions. Light smut. Lmk if I missed anything.
an: Story Five of Seven. Where can I find my own Rinnie? Sorry Jay but shes mine!
Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4
Rinnie
Day five. Rinnie had exactly five brain cells left.
Competition day. The real thing. The official launch of the international campaign, where weeks of planning, strategizing, and filming turned into the thing that mattered most. Results.
But first? Breakfast.
Rinnie was exhausted, high off adrenaline, caffeine, and a single croissant she snatched off the communal table before the team’s vultures could descend. Everyone was gathered in the hotel’s event room, set up like a private dining hall just for their crew, and while the spread was impressive, the energy in the room was ridiculous.
Everyone and she does mean everyone was acting strange.
Jay’s crew. The drivers. Even the pit staff. She kept catching glances, hushed mutters, and then worse..winks.
Constant winks.
She narrowed her eyes at the fourth one that morning and squinted across the table at one of their pit engineers.
“Do you have something in your eye?” she asked flatly.
The man just grinned. Rinnie turned toward Do-hyun next, who looked vaguely like he was in pain.
“Do-hyun,” she said seriously, setting her coffee down. “If you need to use the bathroom, go. You look like it hurts.”
The entire table exploded into chaotic laughter. Even Minyoung, usually composed, snorted into her orange juice. Ailee choked on her toast.
“Constipated,” Marco wheezed. “She said he looks constipated!”
Rinnie blinked. “What? He did!”
Do-hyun, red faced and chuckling, raised both hands in surrender. “I’m fine. But thank you for your concern.”
Rinnie sighed and flopped back into her chair. She didn’t get the joke. She was just trying to help. These people were weird.
And unfortunately, they were all acting like this because of one thing.
“Jinnie.”
God.
Rinnie had discovered that the internet was a menace, and so were her teammates. Ever since Jay’s TikTok video dropped, the video, the one that spiraled her life into chaos everyone was in full ship mode. Everyone. And no one would let it go.
Not even Coach Kim, who just muttered “Jinnie Nation” under his breath like a curse word when she passed him in the hallway earlier that morning.
She made the mistake of glancing across the room now and regretted it instantly.
Jay was leaning back in his chair, long legs sprawled, dressed in all black and wearing a calm expression that absolutely betrayed the gleam in his eyes. Of course he looked handsome. Of course he was smirking. And when their eyes locked.
Wink.
She made a face like she was gagging and looked away, missing the way he chuckled quietly into his drink.
The rest of the morning passed in a blur. The team packed up and shuttled out to the Tokyo track, which was lit with an early summer sun and buzzing with the type of energy that only came from a full crowd, hundreds of cameras, and high speed pressure.
Rinnie slipped into her element.
The moment her boots hit the asphalt, camera hanging around her neck, headset secured over her hair, clipboard tucked under one arm she was the boss.
She was the campaign manager for Jay Park, one of the top names in F1, and she knew exactly how to do her job. Media passes were checked, press zones marked, drone footage approved, fan sections cleared, brand banners adjusted. Her girls Minyoung and Ailee were her left and right hand, tossing ideas back and forth as they triple checked online streams and arranged live social media coverage.
“We’re trending already,” Minyoung called over the comms. “Hashtag Jinnie. And Jay Park. And ‘If He Loses I Riot.’”
Ailee snorted. “God, they’re feral.”
Rinnie didn’t respond. She couldn’t. Not when she looked up from her tablet and saw him. Jay, in his blue and black race suit, gloves half on, hair tousled from his helmet, answering a pre-race interview just a few yards away.
And he was staring at her.
She tried to look busy. She really did.
But his gaze dragged like a magnet, and when he smiled at something the interviewer said and looked back at her, eyes flicking over her legs, her clipboard, her flushed face like she was more interesting than the entire damn venue she panicked.
Rinnie walked away.
She heard Minyoung giggle in her headset and turned her mic off entirely.
Now, hours later, she was standing in the staff coach zone with the girls and a few others, headset back on, eyes locked on the screen ahead of her.
It was the final match of the day. Jay against some hotshot from Japan’s team, Riku Sato. He was newer, younger, with a mouth that never stopped running and a fanbase obsessed with calling him “the future of the sport.”
Rinnie wasn’t impressed.
Jay Park wasn’t “the future.” He was the present. The standard. The one they all looked up to, even if they didn’t admit it.
The track ahead gleamed under stadium lights, slick from the evening mist, and the crowd’s roar was almost deafening through her headset.
Jay’s car rolled into position at the starting line. His name flashed on the big screen, side by side with Sato’s.
She could see the crew members around his car moving like clockwork, double checking every nut, every calibration, every detail, because this race? This was the one that would determine whether they advanced to the next tour circuit.
The one that would set the tone for the entire season.
Rinnie’s heart pounded.
Coach Kim stood behind her, arms crossed, gaze hard. Minyoung and Ailee each clutched their tablets, tension thick between them. The Tokyo crew, once skeptical of Rinnie’s team, now looked impressed and maybe even a little in awe.
But Rinnie?
She just watched.
Watched as the lights blinked red.
Watched the stillness before the storm.
Watched the man who ruined her peace every day rev his engine like a declaration.
Jay Park never lost.
And tonight wouldn’t be any different.
Not with her watching. Not with the whole world holding their breath.
And especially not with that smug little wink he gave the camera one second before the lights went out.
God, she was going to kill him when this was over. If she didn’t kiss him first.
The crowd was roaring, the scent of burnt rubber and adrenaline still thick in the air, but all Rinnie could focus on was the number flashing on the big screen.
Jay Park. First place.
She barely registered the noise as her feet took off, darting around the crowd with her staff badge bouncing on her chest, yelling apologies and “excuse me”s as she shoved past bodies until she saw him.
Helmet off. Suit halfway undone. Hair damp with sweat and eyes scanning the pit like he was looking for someone. Like he was looking for her.
And then he saw her.
Rinnie didn’t even get a word out.
Jay stormed toward her like a man possessed, and the second she got within arm’s reach, he grabbed her waist and lifted her straight off the ground, spinning her like they were in some K-drama with a million dollar budget.
Her legs kicked midair, her laugh bursting out before she could stop it, hands grabbing onto his shoulders as he finally set her down, barely. His arms were still around her. His face too close. His grin too sharp.
Her heart was somewhere on the racetrack.
“Told you I never lose.”
The words were in her ear, soft enough to shatter her.
Rinnie blinked up at him, mouth open, lungs barely working. Was she having a heatstroke? No. That was just Jay Park and his voice when he got smug and low and-
“U-uh, okay Mr. Champion, I get it,” she stammered, pulling back slightly even though he didn’t let her go. “Now let me ride in the car sometime or I swear I’ll scream.”
Jay chuckled, actually chuckled and said, “You can ride shotgun any day you want, Berry.”
God, stop saying things like that, she wanted to scream. But instead, she could only huff and smile, completely unaware of the camera flashes going off around them.
Too late.
Because that moment with her arms around his neck, her cheeks pink, him holding her like a prize he never wanted to share was already immortalized. Already online. Already sparking shipping tags, reaction edits, and conspiracy theories.
But Rinnie didn’t know that yet.
Because Jay was already being yanked away by tabloids and interviewers, his arm sliding from her waist slowly, like it didn’t want to leave.
And she was left standing there. Flushed. Breathless. Heart still spinning. And thinking, Did he really say ‘ride shotgun’ or was she hallucinating again?
Jay
Jay leaned against the dark brick wall of the rooftop bar, a drink in hand he hadn’t touched in over twenty minutes.
The music thumped low and steady, a hum beneath the laughter, chatter, and glasses clinking. Neon lights pulsed from the floor panels, giving the space a moody glow but none of that mattered. Not when Rinnie was in the room.
She was laughing again. Spinning in slow circles with Ailee on the dance floor like the music was made just for them. Her cheeks were pink, and her braid had loosened so that strands of hair kept falling across her face, but she didn’t care. She was a little tipsy. A little too pretty. And his.
Even if she didn’t admit it yet.
Jay’s eyes never left her. Couldn’t. Wouldn’t.
His teammates were talking beside him, about the next race, the food in Shanghai, the girls in the room. But Jay just gave half smirks and nodded when it seemed right, all while his gaze stayed locked on the woman in the black blouse and skirt that shimmered when she twirled. God, she didn’t even have to try.
His tactics were working. He knew it. Every blush. Every flustered look. Every time she called him annoying and looked away too fast.
If she didn’t turn pink whenever he leaned in close, if her hands didn’t twitch when he called her Berry, he might’ve believed she didn’t feel the same. But she did. He could see it. And so long as she kept blushing, he’d keep pushing. Gently. Softly. Until she fell.
Jay ducked his head, a crooked smile playing on his lips as he remembered the way she looked up at him after he’d whispered in her ear on the track. That look wide eyed, stunned, a little breathless it was branded into his memory.
He never admitted it, not even to himself, but he always looked for her first in every crowd. Even if she wasn’t there. Even before she worked for him. Even back when she was just the girl who called him Jellybean and stole his favorite socks when he wasn’t looking.
Now, having her here in his final year of racing by his side, camera in hand, always close. It meant more than he’d ever say out loud. But he didn’t need to say it. Jay Park wasn’t a man of grand declarations.
He was a man of quiet action.
And right now, his action was simple: watch her. Make sure she was safe. Let her have her fun.
Even if some punk tried to flirt with her, even if her laugh made his heart ache in the best way, even if he wanted to drag her into his arms and kiss her stupid he wouldn’t.
Not yet.
Instead, he leaned his head back against the wall, drink still untouched, and kept his eyes on the only girl that had ever made the future look more exciting than the finish line.
Jay didn’t know how the night had ended like this his hand curled around hers, the Tokyo streets glowing under city lights, and Rinnie half hopping, half drifting beside him like her feet didn’t always touch the ground.
She wasn’t drunk. Not really. But she was definitely tipsy, cheeks flushed pink and smile a little too wide for this late at night. And apparently, she had zero spacial awareness when tipsy, because she’d nearly walked full speed into a glass door on their way out of the bar. He hadn’t even thought about it just grabbed her hand and kept it.
That had been ten minutes ago. She still hadn’t let go. Not that he planned on giving her the chance.
Rinnie was chattering beside him about Shanghai now, her voice light and airy, full of the kind of energy that felt too good to be real after midnight. “…and even if your schedule is packed, like completely back to back packed,” she said, swinging their hands between them, “we have to do one fun thing. Just one.”
Jay glanced down at her, lips tugging upward at the way her nose scrunched when she was being determined.
“One fun thing?” he echoed, raising a brow. “What if I say no?”
“I’ll bite you,” she threatened instantly. He chuckled. Of course she would. “Alright. One fun thing.”
“You promise?”
“Promise.”
She beamed up at him, and Jay’s chest twisted.
God, how was she cuter like this? Loose braid falling down her back, lips still faintly tinted from her favorite berry gloss, arms swinging, steps uneven, her whole body buzzing like a champagne bubble about to burst. And she started singing Tokyo drift under her breath making him smile so hard.
Jay had never met someone who lived so loud. So brightly.
It was infuriating sometimes because he couldn’t stop looking at her. Couldn’t stop wanting her. And she didn’t even know it. Or maybe she did. Either way, she was sunshine and rainbows and chaos wrapped in a woman who had no idea how often she knocked the wind out of him.
They reached the hotel, and the cool air of the lobby sobered the edges of their high.
Still holding hands.
Still close.
They rode the elevator in silence, Rinnie leaning her head against the mirrored wall, blinking slowly as the floor numbers ticked up. Jay watched her reflection instead of looking directly at her. It felt too soft. Too quiet. Too much.
When they finally made it to their room, Rinnie yawned and mumbled something about needing to set her alarms, but as soon as her bag hit the floor, she faceplanted onto the bed. Jay toed off his shoes, tugged off his jacket, and collapsed beside her close enough to feel her warmth but not quite touching.
Within minutes, she was asleep. Out cold. Her hand still rested near his chest, fingers curled like they’d been holding something precious. And maybe they had.
Jay stared at the ceiling for a while longer. Thought about how tomorrow they’d fly to another country. Another track. Another week of chaos. But right now, this quiet, this girl, this moment it was enough to make him close his eyes with the faintest smile.
They didn’t say goodnight.
They didn’t have to.
She was there. And so was he.
-
Getting out of the airport was absolute hell.
Security had them in a tight ring, bodies shoulder to shoulder as they moved like a guarded pack through the Shanghai terminal. Fans were screaming, cameras were flashing, and airport staff looked two seconds away from collapsing under the pressure.
Jay swore if one more person yelled his name or stuck a phone in his face, he was going to lose it.
But credit where credit was due the guys kept it together. Sort of. And at least they had the sense to move all the female staff, their two PR managers, and Rinnie into the middle of their formation, shielding them from the worst of the chaos.
Jay was walking on the outer edge of the pack, half shoving away a fan with a very determined elbow when his heart lurched.
Where was she?
His eyes snapped across the crowd like a radar, his chest tightening with every second he couldn’t spot her. The screaming blurred. The flashing lights vanished. His jaw clenched. His pace slowed.
There.
A flicker of pink. A familiar black cap. Her braid over her shoulder. Rinnie walking beside Ailee, clutching her camera and waving politely at a security guard as if she wasn’t being swallowed by thousands of people.
The storm in his chest ceased. Just like that.
He exhaled. Shook himself. And started walking again.
By the time they made it outside lungs filled with the cleaner, warmer air of Shanghai their team fanned out into multiple rows of black out vehicles. Jay had about three seconds of peace before fate decided to punish him.
“Jay! With us!” someone shouted.
He turned. His fate was sealed.
Stuck. With. Them.
He slid into the middle seat of the third van, flanked by Marco, Do-hyun, Minseok, and two of the newer drivers. The doors closed. The car hadn’t even pulled away from the curb before the idiocy began.
Marco stretched with an exaggerated groan. “Ahh, love the smell of bets and incoming victory in the morning.”
Jay leaned his head back with a groan. “Don’t start.”
“Oh, we never stopped,” Do-hyun chimed in from the front seat, smirking. “Marco’s only got two weeks left until the kiss happens. Then I get my money.”
“You act like I’ve agreed to anything,” Jay muttered, eyes closed, arms crossed.
Minseok laughed. “Bro, you’ve been agreeing with your eyes since we landed in Tokyo. Don’t even pretend.”
“Exactly,” Do-hyun added, turning in his seat. “You’re so whipped. I saw you damn near die in the airport because you couldn’t spot her for ten seconds.”
Jay didn’t respond. Mostly because they were right. And also because he was absolutely considering which one of them would be easiest to strangle in the van without alerting the driver.
Marco was whistling. “I say they kiss before the end of Shanghai. You can’t keep pulling that brooding drama lead shit forever.”
Jay rolled his eyes. “She’s not some rom-com character, you idiots.”
“You are,” Do-hyun snorted. “You’re like, ‘Rinnie this, Rinnie that,’ every five seconds. It’s embarrassing.”
Jay’s lip twitched. He didn’t smile. But he also didn’t deny it.
Outside, the city was whirling past in shades of neon and soft light.
Inside, his teammates were hyenas, but Jay just sank deeper into the seat, arms crossed, and thought about how she looked earlier. How she’d walked so calmly through chaos. How she didn’t even realize the entire world shifted for him the moment she smiled.
They could talk all they wanted.
Jay already knew one thing for sure: He wasn’t going to lose. Not when the prize was her.
Rinnie
The car ride to the hotel in Shanghai should’ve been peaceful. It should’ve been quiet.
But Rinnie had the girls with her, Ailee, Minyoung and seated in the front passenger seat was none other than the enigma that was Coach Kim himself.
Of course there was no peace.
Ailee was already poking her side, giggling like a child. “So…when’s the wedding? Do you think their kids will have his jawline or her eyes?”
Minyoung, the calmest of them all, looked up from her phone and smiled sweetly. “You looked really cute in that video, by the way. The fans are calling it a K-drama moment.”
Rinnie pressed herself deeper into her seat like she could disappear into the upholstery. “Can we not?”
“No,” all two of them said in unison.
She groaned.
Then, out of pure desperation, she leaned forward and asked the one man in the vehicle who might offer her sanity. “Coach Kim?”
He turned his head slightly, squinting at her behind his thick rimmed glasses. “Hm?”
“Do you like drama?”
Without missing a beat, the man beamed. “I love drama. Especially the romantic kind. K-dramas, Thai lakorns, Chinese palace scandals. My daughter got me hooked.”
Rinnie blinked. “What…kind of man are you?”
“A good one,” he said proudly, and patted his chest before yawning.
Ailee gasped in delight. “Coach, tell her about the edits!”
“Oh! Yes! I sent all the ‘Jinnie’ shipping edits to my daughter,” he said with a big grin. “She has a folder for them. She says you two are her endgame.”
Rinnie stared. Her soul left her body. “What the hell kind of world are we living in?”
Coach Kim chuckled, pulled his bucket hat lower over his eyes, and promptly passed out like a bear going into hibernation. Rinnie was speechless.
That only made the girls more dangerous.
“Okay,” Minyoung said, suddenly serious. “No jokes.”
“We love you,” Ailee said. “But we have got to know. What’s happening between you two?”
Rinnie looked out the window.
Shanghai glimmered under the afternoon sun. People bustled past on scooters and crosswalks, unaware of her emotional spiral. And inside this car, her heart thumped in her throat.
She turned slowly.
And for the first time, she didn’t hide.
“I…” she started, voice quiet. “I have the biggest thing for Jay.”
Three jaws dropped.
“I don’t know how it happened,” she admitted, laughing weakly. “I mean we’ve been friends forever. He’s Jay. I’ve seen him cry over his cat and almost throw hands over fried chicken. But now…it’s different.”
Minyoung’s hands shot up to cover her mouth.
“I feel like he’s feeding my delusions,” Rinnie said, voice a bit rushed now. “He flirts and gets all close and says the stupidest, softest things. And I keep telling myself I’m imagining it. That he’s just like this. But then he posts that video…and looks at me like that and ugh!”
She covered her face with her hands.
Ailee was already screaming into a pillow.
Minyoung clapped once. “You’re not delusional.”
“I am,” Rinnie insisted from behind her hands.
“You’re not,” they all chorused.
But Rinnie didn’t answer.
She just stared out the window again, heart skipping faster than the neon signs outside.
And she wondered if this was a delusion…
Why did it feel more and more like the beginning of something real?
The van was quiet aside from the occasional bump in the road, the gentle hum of the tires against asphalt, and Coach Kim snoring like a grizzly bear in hibernation. Minyoung had fallen asleep against the window. Ailee’s phone had slipped from her hands. And Rinnie…
Rinnie was pretending.
Her eyes were closed, her breathing even, her hands tucked under her borrowed hoodie like she wasn’t spiraling into a slow motion existential meltdown.
Because she was. Fully and completely spiraling.
She had made a decision. A choice. A plan, if you could even call it that.
Just…play it cool.
That was it. That was the plan. No confessions. No flirty retaliation. No heartbreak. No mess. Just Rinnie being Rinnie, Park Jay’s harmless, bubbly, big hearted best friend. Who may or may not be in love with him.
God.
She chewed the inside of her cheek, still facing the window, eyes squeezed shut like that would stop her mind from racing.
It’s fine. Everything is fine. It has to be.
She didn’t want to ruin anything. Not this close, not after nearly nine years of friendship, of soft moments and late night talks, of racing around the world and growing up in parallel. He meant too much to her. His friendship meant everything.
But.
But…
What if the others were right?
What if Ailee and Minyoung and Weiyin weren’t delusional? What if Yeji and Seorin wasn’t teasing just to tease?
What if Jay really was flirting on purpose? What if the stares and the soft touches and the dancing and the compliments and that damn T-shirt moment what if all of it meant something?
Her heart clenched.
Because if he does like her, then why hasn’t he ever said anything?
Why hasn’t he told her?
Why hasn’t he done something real about it?
Maybe…maybe it’s because he doesn’t know how. Or maybe he doesn’t feel it the same way she does.
Maybe she’s just being stupid.
And her thoughts whispered back, 'Probably the same reason you haven’t.’
Her thoughts twisted like tangled earbuds.
She didn’t want to make a move only to be met with confusion or awkward laughter. She didn’t want to read into it too much and find out later that he was just playing around, being charming, being Jay. She couldn’t let herself believe in something that might not even exist.
Because she’d fall. All the way. She already was falling.
But she had to be sure.
She had to know the difference between butterflies and proximity. Between love and familiarity. Between longing and loneliness.
So for now she’d just play it cool.
She kept her eyes shut, felt the soft bump of a turn in the road, and listened to the muted laughter from the guys’ van somewhere behind them. One of them was probably yelling. Someone else was probably being annoying. And Jay…
Jay was probably being Jay.
And that was the whole problem, wasn’t it?
She turned her face deeper into the hoodie sleeve and tried to will her thoughts to stop. But her heart was still wide awake, quietly aching.
Just in case.
The elevator was quiet eerily so, save for the gentle hum of tired breath and the occasional yawn stifled behind a sleeve. They were a team of champions, undefeated on the track but absolutely demolished by the week’s chaos.
Rinnie stood pressed into a corner, her key card clutched in hand, her head tipped slightly back against the cool metal of the wall.
The air was thick with fatigue, that shared heaviness that came after too many early mornings, late night debriefs, emotional whiplash, and too many hours spent under the summer sun or neon lights. It had only been two stops so far, Tokyo now behind them, Shanghai just beginning and they still had weeks ahead.
The ding of the elevator arriving at their floor barely stirred the group. A few murmured goodnights. A few more just shuffled off in silence, dragging their suitcases like the walking dead.
Jay fell in step behind her without needing to say a word.
Of course he did.
Because for some reason, the universe had decided to pair them up as roommates again. Rinnie didn’t even bother questioning it anymore. Not when Coach Kim had already given her that knowing smile earlier like he was in on some divine joke. Not when the hotel confirmed the rooms and Jay simply tossed her a wink with the room number.
She was too tired to fight fate tonight.
The room door clicked open under her keycard, and she stepped inside, welcomed by the familiar hush of crisp hotel air and the muted lighting of their temporary home. It was quiet, cool, clean. The two beds sat side by side like siblings, mercifully two beds.
Thank God.
Jay followed in behind her without a word, dropping his duffel onto the bench near the closet.
“Mind if I shower first?” he asked, voice lower than usual, rough from the hours of talking and racing and just being.
She looked up from pulling off her shoes, catching the way his shoulders sagged. Even Jay, her untouchable, never wavers Jay, was human tonight. She just nodded. “Go ahead.”
“Thanks, Berry.” His voice was soft as a kiss to the forehead.
The bathroom door clicked shut behind him a moment later, the sound of running water a comfort more than a distraction.
Rinnie collapsed onto the edge of her bed with a sigh, finally tugging her phone out from her pocket. A string of unread messages lit up her screen. Airi checking in. Minyoung sending a selfie of her already passed out face down in a pillow. Weiyin reminding her to drink water. And Yeji.
Her thumb paused.
Yeji: Can we FaceTime? Jaehee’s crying. Says she misses you.
Rinnie’s chest softened like warm sugar in tea.
“Aww, my baby,” she whispered to herself.
Without hesitating, she turned off the room light closest to her, crawled under the hotel blanket with just her phone lighting her face, and hit the video call button. The water still ran in the background. She could hear Jay humming softly off key and low but all her focus was on the screen lighting up with a familiar face and a smaller, puffy eyed one right next to it.
“Rinnie-ah!” Yeji greeted.
“Rin-nieee,” came the wobbly voice of her tiny six year old niece, eyes red, cheeks blotchy.
“Oh no, who made my favorite girl cry?” Rinnie cooed immediately, face melting into something warmer than even the Shanghai sun. “Come on, don’t you know you’re breaking my heart, Jaehee?”
“I miss you!” Jaehee sniffled, trying to be brave.
“I miss you more,” Rinnie said, voice thick. “And guess what? When I get back, I’m gonna bring you something really cool from here. Like…a race car toy. Or candy. Or…oooh a dress that sparkles. How does that sound?”
Jaehee wiped her nose. “Can it sparkle and be pink?”
“Baby, that’s the only way I know how to live.”
Yeji laughed gently, mouthing a thank you from behind the screen.
Rinnie grinned and curled tighter into the blanket, talking softly as her niece finally started smiling again.
In the background, she didn’t even notice when the shower stopped, or when Jay opened the door and leaned on the frame in nothing but a towel and tired eyes, quietly listening to her call.
She didn’t notice him smiling.
But maybe he always did, when she wasn’t looking.
The screen went dark as the FaceTime call ended, and Rinnie let out a soft exhale, sinking further into the cool sheets of the hotel bed. Her chest still felt warm from seeing Jaehee’s pouty face brighten at the sound of her voice. She missed that kid more than she realized.
A soft shuffle behind her reminded her she wasn’t alone. The bathroom door clicked open, and steam poured out like a lazy dragon, followed by Jay’s tall frame wrapped in a white towel and another draped around his neck, his damp hair clinging to his forehead.
“She doing okay?” he asked, his voice a low hum as he padded barefoot across the carpet. He didn’t look at her directly, busying himself with rifling through his suitcase.
“Yeah. Yeji said she’s been moody all day but calmed down when we talked. Jaehee made me promise to bring her back a souvenir,” Rinnie replied, watching his back without meaning to. His shoulder blades shifted under the towel as he dug for a shirt, and she suddenly found her throat dry.
“Souvenir, huh?” Jay glanced at her over his shoulder, flashing a smile that did things to her heartbeat. “Guess we better go find something tomorrow. Maybe one of those little panda plushies they had at the track.”
Rinnie nodded, a small smile curling her lips. “She’ll probably cry if it’s not pink.”
“Pink panda. Got it.”
He pulled a loose shirt over his head, ruffling his hair in the process, and Rinnie forced herself to look away, flicking her phone screen back on even though there was nothing urgent. Just needed somewhere for her eyes to land.
Jay, always effortlessly comfortable, dropped onto his bed with a heavy sigh, stretching out like a starfish. His arm flung dramatically over his eyes. “I might be dying.”
She scoffed. “You took a hot shower. That’s the opposite of dying.”
“You don’t know what that race did to my back,” he whined, voice muffled. “I think my spine is permanently misaligned.”
Rinnie rolled her eyes but laughed anyway. “Want me to step on it?”
Jay cracked one eye open, his gaze lazy but soft. “You offering?”
“Depends. Are you gonna be dramatic or grateful?”
“Grateful. Very grateful.” He grinned now, propping himself up slightly. “If you hurt me, I’ll still say thank you.”
That made her laugh harder, but there was a flutter in her chest she didn’t want to think too much about. She knew Jay flirted, he flirted with everyone. But with her…sometimes it felt different. Warmer. More intentional.
And it scared her, just a little, because what if she was reading too much into it?
Still, she stood, dusted off her hands like a professional, and walked over to his bed. “Fine. But no weird noises, or I’m stepping on your head.”
Jay rolled onto his stomach, tucking his arms under the pillow like a little kid. “Yes, ma’am.”
The bed dipped under her weight as she climbed up behind him, carefully placing her feet on either side of his back.
“Tell me if it hurts,” she said, slowly putting pressure on one foot.
“It’s perfect,” he groaned dramatically. “You’re a miracle worker.”
She snorted, trying not to feel how warm his body was beneath her. Or how casual this felt. Too casual. Too easy.
“I think this counts as a favor,” she said lightly. “So you owe me, just so you know.”
“I’ll buy you boba,” he said without missing a beat.
“Deal.”
Jay fell quiet for a while, just letting her move, and the room settled into a kind of hush cozy, domestic, maybe even intimate. She hated how her heart read into every quiet second. Hated how she wanted to ask if this meant anything to him, this closeness, these shared nights and jokes and stupid touches.
He didn’t say much, and neither did she. But when she finally stepped off and sat beside him, brushing imaginary dust from her leggings, Jay reached out blindly and found her wrist.
“Thanks,” he said, looking up at her now. “Really.”
Rinnie felt something catch in her throat. His fingers were warm, gentle, and he didn’t let go right away.
She forced a smile. “Told you I was strong.”
“You are,” he murmured, his eyes soft, almost too honest.
She turned away first, heart skipping. Maybe she was delusional. Or maybe he really looked at her like that. Either way, the silence between them hummed with something unspoken, something waiting.
And neither of them dared to break it.
Jay ( A few days later)
The Shanghai International Circuit stretched out before him like a sleeping beast, gleaming under the thin morning haze, half shrouded in mist and already echoing with the low growl of engines warming up in the paddocks.
Jay adjusted the cuffs of his race suit, rolling his shoulders beneath the fireproof layer. The material felt tighter today. Or maybe it was the tension in his chest. Either way, he was running hot, and it wasn’t just from the Chinese humidity clinging to his skin.
His team’s pit box was already buzzing with activity, mechanics swarming around the cars like a well trained hive. The sound of air guns, radio chatter, and the rhythmic thump of tires being stacked filled the air.
Jay stood off to the side near the digital track map displayed on the screen wall, arms folded across his chest as Coach Kim paced in front of the drivers. The man always looked like he’d walked straight out of a military drama, stoic, sun weathered, and probably allergic to smiling.
“Alright, listen up,” Coach Kim barked, flicking a laser pointer to highlight the curve-heavy second sector. “This circuit isn’t about speed. It’s about control. You try to brute force it like you did in Austria, and you’ll kiss the barriers by lap six. I’m looking at you, Jay.”
Jay exhaled through his nose, a small smirk curling on one side. “That was one time. And technically, it was lap five.”
A few of the engineers laughed, but Coach Kim wasn’t in the mood. “Don’t be cute. This isn’t your personal highlight reel. This weekend, you’re not just racing the course. You’re racing the top three from Team Vanta and whoever the hell Aeon’s got driving for them now. And spoiler alert he’s fast.”
That made the room shift. Even Jay’s mouth flattened a little. Aeon’s driver had been the buzz all week some European wildcard with ridiculous wet track records and a temper to match. Jay hadn’t seen him yet, but he’d heard enough.
Coach Kim continued, flipping to a screen showing sector times. “Jay, you’ll be focusing on entry angles into Turns 6 through 8. Your Shanghai line’s been too wide the last two seasons. We’ve got data showing Vanta’s lead driver, Li Wen, hugging tighter and gaining two tenths every damn lap.”
Jay nodded slowly, eyes narrowing. “I’ll take care of it.”
“You’d better,” Kim said, already moving on. “And watch your damn tires. The front left will shred if you push too early. We’re not giving you softs to mess around with.”
Jay tuned out the rest of the breakdown, eyes locked on the map, tracing invisible lines with his gaze. He could already feel the track under him, already hearing the shifts, the apexes, the downforce kicking in. He lived for this balance of calculation and chaos, the cold stats and hot engine screaming at once.
But somewhere in the back of his mind, a softer image interrupted. Rinnie, sitting cross legged on her bed the night before, hair tucked behind one ear, eyes lit up as she showed him a drawing Jaehee had made a stick figure version of Rinnie with a race car.
“You’re in her top five now,” Rinnie had said with a mock-serious nod.
Jay hadn’t told her that he’d rather be her number one. He hadn’t told her that every time he clipped the perfect line around a turn, her name ghosted through his mind like a breathless prayer.
He shook it off, refocusing as Kim clapped once. “Everyone to pit lane. Practice runs in ten. Jay, you’re first up.”
"Of course I am,” Jay muttered, pulling on his gloves as he walked to the car. His name was already printed across the side in bold, clean lettering. A familiar sight, but it never got old.
Helmet on. Visor down. Mind clear.
He slid into the cockpit, the world narrowing into the hum of machinery, the grip of the wheel, and the slow, thrumming heartbeat of adrenaline in his ears.
Jay might not have said the words out loud yet not to Rinnie, not to himself but he raced like someone who had something to lose now.
And that made him even faster.
The moment the wheels hit the asphalt, Jay’s world shrank.
The weight of the car beneath him was familiar an extension of his own limbs, forged from carbon, fire, and velocity. The tight cradle of the cockpit sealed him in like a sarcophagus, but he didn’t feel confined. He felt ready.
The comms crackled. “You’re clear, Jay. Warm up lap. Let’s dial in.”
“Copy,” he murmured, voice even.
The engine responded like a beast tamed only by him growling through the revs as he eased out of the pit lane. Tire temperature low, brake bias still conservative, but the rest? Perfect. Every sensor humming in his ears. Every vibration through the seat, every whisper of drag across the curves of the chassis he felt it in his spine.
He didn’t think about the team or the crowd or the articles predicting a podium finish.
He thought about the turns.
Turn 1 wide, sweeping, a deceptive invitation. He downshifted fast, braked late, and let the car coast on the edge of friction. Tires whispered against the tarmac like a secret only he knew.
Turn 2 into 3 tight. Brutal. A test of patience and angle.
His knuckles tightened around the wheel as he pulled through, the G-force slamming against his ribs, but his expression didn’t waver. He was stone, moving at 200 kilometers per hour.
By Turn 6, the car felt alive under him warm tires, smooth grip, fluid motion. The gear changes were instinctual now, like muscle memory from another life. His fingers clicked the paddles with surgical precision, never too early, never too late. Brake. Downshift. Accelerate. Again.
Out here, there was no chaos.
No static.
Just control.
Jay didn’t race for the thrill of fame or the adoration of fans. He didn’t do it for the trophies or the champagne showers or the post race interviews.
He raced because this was the only place where his mind stilled.
The only time his body, thoughts, and instincts aligned into a singular force.
Here, the noise inside him disappeared.
Here, he didn’t have to be charming. Didn’t have to be cool. Didn’t have to be anything except fast.
Turn 13 sharp hairpin. He braked hard, nose dipped, tires screeched. He felt the weight shift as he downshifted twice and caught the line at the last millisecond, slingshotting out with the throttle wide open.
His jaw clenched as the car surged forward.
The straights felt like flying. But the corners? That was where he won.
Anyone could go fast in a straight. But only the greats could dance with the turns, kiss the apexes, keep the balance between control and chaos without blinking.
By the time he hit the back straight, DRS open, engine howling at full scream, Jay wasn’t smiling but his blood was singing. He could feel it in his chest, that familiar flood of fire and clarity that reminded him he was alive in the way that only racing ever gave him.
He crossed the line with a new best time, the data pinging into his earpiece before his engineer could even speak.
“Nice lap. Very clean,” came the voice through comms. “You’re four tenths faster than Li Wen’s sector average.”
Jay didn’t respond. He just circled back in silence, the ghost of a nod to himself the only acknowledgment.
This was his world.
This track.
This car.
This quiet fire inside him.
Everything else could wait.
Rinnie
The hotel’s business suite had been converted into a command center, one part sleek boardroom, one part chaotic war zone. Coffee cups littered the table like trophies from an all nighter, tablets buzzed with notifications, and the whiteboard was a patchwork of scribbles, arrows, and half erased dreams.
Rinnie stood at the head of it all, one hand on her hip, the other twirling a marker between her fingers. Her hair was clipped back in a messy twist, the kind she barely had time to fix this morning, but she didn’t care. She was wired. Focused. In the zone.
“We’ve got insane engagement numbers from Marco’s dance challenge,” Ailee said, scrolling furiously on her iPad. “It hit a million on TikTok in eight hours. But that’s just flash. We need something with teeth.”
“Agreed,” Minyoung added, sipping her third iced Americano of the day. “The Q&As are good for reach, the behind the scenes stuff is great for loyalty, but nothing has that punch you in the heart feel yet. And this is Jay’s last year.”
“All of theirs,” Rinnie said quietly, turning to face them. “Jay, Do-hyun, Marco…It’s the end of an era. We don’t need flash right now. We need something human.”
Both girls fell silent for a beat. Rinnie didn’t often get that serious, but when she did, they listened.
“We’ve shown their personalities,” she continued, walking around the table slowly, eyes sharp. “Their jokes. Their charm. Their skill. But have we shown their stories? What made them fall in love with racing? What kept them going? What scared them? What they want when it’s all over?”
Minyoung blinked. “You’re talking like…letters?”
“Yeah.” Rinnie snapped her fingers, pacing now. “A letter to the fans. No filters, no branding. Just them honest. What this career has meant. What this final season feels like. What they hope comes next. We pair it with monochrome portraits, raw, personal and drop it as a campaign.”
Ailee leaned back in her chair, impressed. “That might actually destroy people emotionally. I love it.”
“But that’s the point,” Rinnie said, now pointing at the whiteboard. “People don’t just want speed they want connection. They want to feel like they’re part of this goodbye.”
Minyoung nodded, catching on fast. “And we follow it up with a fan zone event. A proper one. Not just a ten minute selfie line. Full day activation, custom merch, curated playlists, photo booths with cutouts and pit gear, old race suits on display, maybe even helmets if we can get them.”
“We can,” Ailee confirmed, already jotting things down. “What about a ‘Fan Hall of Fame’? Let them submit questions in advance, pick the top ones, and let the guys answer them on stage. Funny ones, deep ones, whatever.”
“And a surprise moment,” Rinnie added. “Maybe a speech. Maybe a video montage with footage from their rookie days up until now.”
Minyoung was already typing. “We need a name for it. Something that’ll trend.”
Rinnie tapped her marker against her lips, then smiled.
“Final Lap: From the Track to the Heart.”
There was a beat of silence, and then:
“Okay, damn,” Ailee whispered. “You’re really in your element today.”
“Always am,” Rinnie said with a half smile, scribbling the name at the top of the whiteboard in bold.
The plan unfolded quickly from there emails to be sent, concept decks to be built, a timeline they had barely three weeks to execute. But Rinnie felt alive in the chaos. This was what she was made for, strategy, emotion, connection, and control. And when she got the spark of an idea like this, there was no stopping her.
She wasn’t just managing drivers. She was helping shape legacies.
A day later the digital clock on the conference room wall blinked 3:47 PM, and the hotel suite had descended into the quiet hum of controlled victory.
The table was a beautiful mess of empty coffee cups, laptop chargers, half scribbled post it notes, and open calendars.
Rinnie leaned back in her chair, hands laced behind her head, eyes on the massive shared spreadsheet projected across the TV screen. Across from her, Ailee was cracking her knuckles like a war hero, and Minyoung had just dropped her head dramatically onto the table.
“It is done,” Minyoung mumbled into the wood. “We’ve created art. Now let the universe reward us with carbs.”
“Can we talk about the fact that we pulled that entire launch together in four hours?” Ailee added, tossing her pen onto the table like a mic drop. “Tickets launching next week. Venues already on hold. Merch in development. Who are we?”
“Gods,” Minyoung whispered. “Hungry, overworked gods.”
Rinnie grinned, her chest warm with that familiar satisfaction that came after a productive creative sprint. Everything was in motion now. Final Lap: From the Track to the Heart was real.
In two weeks, fans would be buying tickets. In three, they’d be screaming and crying at a once in a career event that celebrated the drivers they’d followed for years. COVID had really put a stop to fan events the last couple of years, so this would be a first for the team as well.
And somehow, she had helped make that happen.
She opened her phone, double checked the email from the merch design team, and nodded once, pleased. “We’ll need to finalize the fan zone layout next, and I want the personal letters locked in by the time we get to Europe-”
“No.”
She blinked and looked up.
“No more work talk,” Ailee declared, already shoving her laptop into her bag with a dramatic flourish. “I will collapse if I don’t eat real food. Not hotel bar food. Not protein bars. Actual, real, flavorful, Shanghai food.”
“Street food?” Minyoung lifted her head slowly. “I want something fried. Something illegal in most countries.”
“Yes, that.” Ailee stood up, gathering her things like she was leading them on an expedition. “I want to burn my tongue and not regret it.”
Rinnie laughed, stretching her arms above her head with a yawn. “Fine, fine. You win. I could honestly eat my keyboard right now. Let’s go before we lose what little serotonin we have left.”
They grabbed their bags, still talking over each other arguing about whether they wanted dumplings, skewers, or noodles. Rinnie paused long enough to send a quick summary update to their operations lead back at headquarters, then closed her laptop with a decisive click.
As the three of them exited the meeting room, they looked more like survivors than business professionals eyeliner smudged, ponytails loose, and laughter echoing down the hallway as they made their way toward the elevator.
Rinnie held the door open, watching her girls step inside, then followed them in, her phone already open to a list of food stalls she’d saved just in case this exact moment arrived.
“We’re not stopping until we find a line. That’s how you know it’s good,” she said, eyes scanning options.
“And if we get lost?” Ailee asked dramatically.
“Then we die full,” Minyoung answered.
The elevator dinged, and the doors slid open. The girls disappeared into the Shanghai twilight like women on a mission.
Food. Laughter. Chaos.
But more than that this was their moment of breathing after building something incredible.
Tomorrow, they’d go back to the grind. But tonight, they would eat like queens.
Minyoung parallel parked like a pro, whipping into a tight spot between a shiny black SUV and a rusted out delivery van. The second the car was off, the three girls practically launched themselves out like starving wolves let loose into a neon lit paradise.
Shanghai’s late evening bustle greeted them with the buzz of scooters, chatter of passersby, and the glorious, glorious scent of street food meats sizzling on open flames, sweet buns steaming in bamboo baskets, and hot oil bubbling around deep fried skewers.
“Oh my god,” Ailee gasped, clutching her heart dramatically. “This is what heaven smells like.”
Minyoung grabbed Rinnie’s hand and pulled her toward a row of dumpling vendors, eyes already gleaming. “No plan. We buy whatever smells good.”
“Say less,” Rinnie grinned, tugging her purse strap tighter as they dove into the crowd.
And so began their street food marathon no schedule, no restraint.
They ordered peppered beef skewers so spicy they made Ailee cough on her first bite. Xiao long bao that burst with hot broth and made them squeal in pain and delight. Sweet grilled rice cakes that reminded them of night markets back home. When they found a booth selling pandan custard buns, Minyoung screamed like she’d just seen her childhood best friend.
“Oh my god, it smells like Chiang Mai,” she said, holding the bun to her nose like a perfume sample.
“I’m gonna cry,” Ailee sniffled. “Why is this better than therapy?”
Rinnie was glowing. Her hair had started to frizz in the humidity, her lipstick was long gone, and she had soy sauce on her sleeve but she was beaming. These were her girls. Her sisters in chaos. No schedule, no clients, just them.
They sat on a low stone bench at the edge of the street market, legs crossed or swinging as they passed skewers between each other, talking about everything and nothing.
Then, as they shared a warm fried sesame ball and watched an old couple dance clumsily to music playing from a street speaker, Rinnie turned to Minyoung.
“How’s it going with Chanon?” she asked gently, not in the nosy way but the real way. The I’ve been waiting for the right moment to ask way.
Minyoung went quiet for a beat, chewing slowly. “…We’re okay. Just tired. He’s working night shifts again, and I’ve been flying city to city with you guys. We barely talk. And when we do…” She shrugged. “It’s either small talk or arguing.”
Rinnie didn’t answer immediately, just leaned her head against Minyoung’s shoulder for a second. No judgment. No fake optimism. Just presence.
“I don’t want to lose him,” Minyoung said quietly.
“You won’t,” Ailee said softly from the other side. “But you might need to choose him again. Both of you. Sometimes you stop doing that without realizing.”
Minyoung nodded, looking down at her half eaten bun. “I know. I just want it to feel like us again.”
The silence after wasn’t awkward. It was thoughtful. Kind.
And then, Ailee looked at Rinnie with a glint in her eye. “And you? Still not ready to ride the Jay train?”
Rinnie made a face. “Can we not call it the Jay train?”
They laughed, but she wasn’t flustered this time. Just thoughtful.
“I care about him,” Rinnie said slowly. “A lot. And I know he probably-“ she cut herself off, biting her lip. "I just…I don’t want to rush. Not because I don’t like him, but because this time…I want to be sure. I want to love someone knowing I’m safe to.”
Both girls nodded. No teasing. No eye rolls. Just quiet understanding.
“You should take your time,” Minyoung said. “You’ve built so much for yourself. You deserve to protect it.”
“And he’ll wait,” Ailee added. “Anyone with eyes can tell he would.”
That warm, squishy feeling pressed at her ribs again. Rinnie smiled, small but grateful. “Thanks. You guys are the best.”
Suddenly, Ailee gasped and leapt to her feet. “OH MY GOD LOOK.”
Rinnie whipped her head around just in time to see a stand on the corner overflowing with plushies chubby animal pillows, tiny dumpling shaped charms, and matching phone cases shaped like baby pandas.
“Mine,” Minyoung shouted, already speed walking.
“Wait for me!” Rinnie laughed, grabbing her wallet and chasing after them, the conversation still warm in her chest.
As the three of them ran like kids down the lantern lit street, arms full of snacks and hearts a little lighter, Rinnie thought.
Maybe life didn’t need to be perfect to feel exactly right.
The booth was draped in pastel tones and overstuffed shelves rows of panda plushies, dumpling pillows with blushing cheeks, and animal keychains dangling from hooks like cheerful little charms. It was the kind of stand that looked like it belonged in a dream until it wasn’t.
Rinnie stood near the center, gently squeezing a white panda with heart shaped ears before placing it back with a small frown. “Do you guys see any in pink? Jaehee only likes pink right now,” she said, scanning the shelves, voice light, a little hopeful. “Like, if it’s not pink, it’s apparently ‘ugly and stupid.’ Her words, not mine.”
“She’s brutal,” Minyoung said with a laugh, already distracted by a mochi shaped plush.
“I saw a blue one,” Ailee offered, holding it up.
“Nope. That’s the enemy color,” Rinnie said with a dramatic sigh, bending down to check the lower shelves.
She didn’t notice the vendor behind the counter watching her until his voice cut through the air sharp and impatient.
“You’re taking too long,” he snapped in Mandarin, not expecting anyone to understand.
But Ailee did. She glanced up sharply.
The man kept going, grumbling as he reached to restock one of the bins beside her. “Girls like you never buy anything. Always giggling and wasting time. Just airheads with too much makeup and no manners.”
The word hit like a slap. Rinnie froze still, her fingers brushing against a bunny keychain she suddenly couldn’t feel.
Airhead.
She didn’t look at him. She didn’t ask what he meant. She just stood there, mouth parted slightly like she was about to say something but didn’t. Her chest felt tight. A little too full.
He probably didn’t mean it to hurt that much. But it did.
Because she knew she was soft. Sensitive. People always said it like it was a bad thing.
She didn’t fight back. Not because she couldn’t but because the words had already crawled too deep too fast. The sting behind her eyes burned hot and fast, and she blinked too many times to stop it.
Ailee stepped forward like a storm in heels.
“Excuse me?” she snapped in Mandarin, her voice cutting through the space like a whip. “You don’t get to talk to her like that. You’re lucky we’re even standing at this dusty little stall.”
Minyoung, eyes narrowed, added, “We were going to buy three. Now we’re buying none.”
The man waved them off with a roll of his eyes, already muttering under his breath. “Just proves my point.”
Rinnie didn’t speak. She couldn’t. Her throat felt swollen, and her jaw was tight from trying to keep it together.
The plush she’d been holding slipped from her fingers, landing softly back in the bin.
“Come on,” Minyoung said gently, taking her hand.
They left the stall with nothing in their hands and too much in their hearts. The laughter from earlier had faded into silence, the hum of the street suddenly too loud.
It wasn’t about the plushies. Or the vendor.
It was about her.
Once they turned the corner and the booth was out of sight, Rinnie rubbed her eyes with her sleeve, sniffling quietly. “I hate that I cry like this. I wasn’t even that mad.”
“You don’t have to be mad to be hurt,” Ailee said, linking her arm through hers.
“It’s just…why is that always the first word people think of?” Rinnie asked, her voice watery. “Airhead. Immature. Like I don’t know what I’m doing. Like just because I’m soft, I can’t be serious. Or smart. Or…or worth liking.”
She didn’t say his name.
She didn’t have to.
Minyoung wrapped an arm around her shoulders, pulling her in. “You are all those things. Sensitive doesn’t mean weak, Rinnie. And softness doesn’t mean someone can’t fall hard for you.”
But Rinnie just nodded, eyes still glassy. She wasn’t ready to believe that yet.
“Let’s go back,” Ailee said gently. “Order room service. Wash off the day.”
They walked back toward the hotel slowly, the crowd thinning, their stomachs still full but their hearts a little less so. The streetlights blinked overhead, painting the sidewalks in gold and silver as if trying to soften the world around them.
Rinnie didn’t look back. But part of her still carried the echo of that word.
And the quiet ache of wondering if maybe just maybe he thought the same.
Jay
The lobby lounge of the hotel was calm in that half asleep, golden lit way it always was after a long day at the track. Low music filtered through the speakers. A few tired guests nursed drinks on velvet couches while Jay and his teammates were slumped in the corner near the floor to ceiling windows, post practice fatigue heavy in their limbs but not quite ready to head up.
Jay had kicked off his sneakers and was sipping water like it was whiskey, letting the silence settle. His shoulders ached in a way he loved, earned pain. The kind that meant he’d pushed himself.
Then the revolving door hissed.
And the second he saw her, everything inside him shifted.
Rinnie.
She walked in with Minyoung and Ailee at her sides, their hands still full of shopping bags and takeout containers, hair tousled from the Shanghai night breeze. At first glance, it looked like they’d just had a long girls’ night out. But Jay knew her knew her and the second his eyes met hers, he felt it.
She didn’t look at him. Not once. Not at the guys, not at the lobby, not at anything. She moved toward the elevator with her head ducked slightly, her arms folded tightly across her chest, like she was trying to shrink in on herself.
That wasn’t like her.
His easy posture straightened immediately. “Rin?”
The elevator doors opened and she stepped in without a word.
Jay was already halfway to the hallway before he heard Ailee call out softly behind him.
“Jay, wait.”
He turned, eyes dark, jaw set. “What happened?”
Ailee and Minyoung shared a glance. It was Minyoung who spoke first, quieter than usual. “Some vendor at the street market called her an airhead. In front of people. Just like she wasn’t even a person.”
Ailee added, “She didn’t even say anything back. Just stood there. You know how she is, cries first, processes later. And she hates that about herself.”
Jay blinked. Slowly. As if it helped keep his rage in check.
His fists clenched at his sides. His heart beat once, loud in his ears, then again, harder.
“I’ll kill him,” he said flatly.
Ailee gave him a faint smirk. “Minyoung already tried. But the real damage’s up here.” She tapped her temple. “You know how that stuff sits with girls like Rinnie.”
Girls like Rinnie.
Yeah. He knew exactly what that meant.
Sweet, soft hearted, a little chaotic. The kind of person who wore joy like perfume, handed out laughter like candy, and still somehow questioned if she was enough.
And that bastard had reduced her to a word. A single careless insult. Airhead.
Jay’s chest burned.
Not because she was weak but because she wasn’t. Because she was so full of heart it made him ache just watching her sometimes.
He liked her just the way she was. All of her.
Her dumb jokes. Her little whines. The way she covered her face when she laughed too hard. How she poured herself into work but still got emotional at fan videos. How she gave more than she got, every single time, and never asked for credit.
She wasn’t too much. She was everything.
Jay ran a hand through his hair, already heading for the elevator. “I’ll check on her.”
“Be gentle,” Minyoung said quietly behind him. “She’s trying really hard not to break.”
And that…that was the worst part.
Because he knew she’d be sitting in her room right now, mad at herself for feeling too much, for crying, for not snapping back.
And all he wanted, all hes ever wanted was to make her believe that her softness wasn’t a flaw.
It was the reason he couldn’t stop falling for her.
The hallway was quiet when Jay stepped out of the elevator, a distant hum from the lounge below still lingering in his ears. But all of that faded the second he reached their hotel room door.
He didn’t knock. He never had to. They’d been sharing rooms since the start of the tour, some logistical mix up that neither of them ever bothered correcting. Now it felt natural. Normal.
But tonight? Nothing about it felt normal.
He slipped the keycard into the lock and opened the door slowly, quietly, just in case she was already asleep.
She wasn’t.
Jay stepped in, and the world tilted on its axis.
Rinnie stood in front of the mirror, framed by the soft light spilling from the bathroom door behind her. She hadn’t heard him come in. Her hands were tugging at the sleeves of his shirt, his favorite black one, the one she’d stolen weeks ago and refused to give back. It hung off her shoulder just slightly, the fabric brushing her bare thighs and the waistband of her pale silk shorts.
God.
She was beautiful.
But her expression wasn’t.
She was looking at herself like she didn’t see what he saw. Her shoulders hunched forward, mouth pressed into a line, her fingers anxiously picking at her nails.
“I’m so annoying,” she muttered softly, a bitter whisper to no one but the girl in the mirror. “I cry too much. I talk too much. I’m just so…so much.”
Jay’s breath caught.
No.
No.
He moved without thinking.
No warning.
Just slipped behind her, slow and careful like she might shatter if he moved too fast. His arms wrapped around her waist, pulling her gently back into him, and she tensed startled but didn’t pull away. Didn’t speak. Didn’t even look at him.
Not directly.
But her eyes found his in the mirror.
And that?
That killed him.
Because the way she looked at herself like she was something broken, something less was the exact opposite of how he saw her.
His chin rested against the curve of her shoulder, just above the cotton of his shirt. His fingers pressed softly into her hips, grounding her. Telling her without words. I’m here. I see you.
Their reflections stood frozen in the glass his dark eyes burning with quiet anger, not at her, never at her but at whatever voice had put that doubt in her head. And hers? Fragile. Glossy eyed. Like she didn’t understand how much she mattered.
Jay’s heart ached in a way it never had before.
Because there she was.
Wrapped in his shirt.
Wrapped in his arms.
And still not sure if she was enough.
She still hadn’t said anything.
Not a word.
But she didn’t pull away, even when Jay tightened his arms around her waist, even when his chest rose and fell behind her like a storm trying to breathe.
Her fingers twitched at her sides, and her shoulders curled the tiniest bit like she was trying to disappear.
No. Not tonight.
Jay’s voice was low, rough in a way it rarely was. “I’m mad.”
That made her blink, her eyes shifting in the mirror like she wasn’t sure what she’d heard.
“Not at you,” he added immediately, his grip steady. “Never at you.”
She tried to turn then, maybe to say something, maybe to apologize, because she always did but he wouldn’t let her. He held her tighter, his voice firmer now, like it was the only thing keeping him from breaking something.
“I’m mad at the world,” he continued, eyes locked on hers in the reflection. “For being so cruel to people like you. For making you feel like this. Like you’re too much. Or not enough. Or somehow both at the same time.”
“Jay-”
“No.” His voice cracked like a match. “Don’t. Don’t do that thing where you talk down about yourself. I know what you were about to say. ‘It’s true.’ ‘You’re dramatic.’ ‘You cry too much.’”
He turned her gently so she was facing him fully now, her back still against his chest, his arms wrapped around her like armor.
“Berry, it ain’t true. Not a single damn word of it.”
She sniffled, lips trembling. “But I-”
“You cry because you feel everything deeply. That’s not a flaw that’s a gift.” His tone softened, but only slightly. “You get excited over little things. You give people the best parts of you without asking for anything back. You care so much it actually hurts you.”
He brought one hand up, brushing her hair away from her cheek so gently it made her breath hitch.
“You’re the first to cheer someone on. The first to notice when something’s wrong. You pour your whole heart into the people you love, and then you sit around wondering if you’re too much?”
He shook his head slowly. “No, Rinnie. That’s not how this works.”
Their eyes met again in the mirror. She looked smaller than usual. Fragile in a way she rarely let herself be. And he could see it all of it. The sadness, the self doubt, the part of her that still didn’t believe she could be loved just as she was.
So he gave her the truth.
“I wish you could see what I see,” he whispered. “You walk into a room and make people feel lighter without even trying. You laugh and it’s impossible not to smile. You’re smart, you’re passionate, you’re stunning and don’t even get me started on how beautiful you are in my shirt.”
That made her cheeks color just slightly. But she still looked unconvinced.
Jay leaned in a little closer, his voice so low now it was almost a breath against her skin. “You make it so easy for people to fall in love with you, Berry. So easy.”
Her lips parted slightly. But he didn’t let her speak. Not yet.
“You’re not going to bed tonight thinking you’re annoying. Or immature. Or anything less than exactly what you are.”
He kissed the top of her shoulder softly. “You’re Rinnie. You’re my pain in the ass planner, my hoodie thief, my soft hearted, big eyed, late night ranting, strawberry scented menace. And you are perfect.”
She turned her head, just enough to look at him over her shoulder now, eyes wet and lips trembling.
Jay gave her a half smile, tender and tired.
“I got you,” he said quietly. “Even when you don’t got yourself.”
Jay didn’t say anything else.
He just moved.
One hand slid under her knees, the other wrapped securely around her back, and without warning, he lifted her up. She let out a soft, surprised gasp her arms instinctively wrapping around his neck, her fingers clutching at the collar of his shirt. But she didn’t fight him.
She didn’t have to.
Jay carried her across the room like she weighed nothing. Like she was everything. His heart thudded in his chest, louder than it had any right to be, but his face stayed calm. Gentle.
He didn’t bother changing out of his day clothes. Didn’t think about how he was still in his black joggers and the sweat streaked T-shirt from earlier. None of that mattered.
Only she did.
He laid her down carefully on his bed, their bed really at this point and climbed in beside her, pulling the covers over them. One arm curved around her shoulders, and the other found her waist, dragging her in until her face was buried in his chest and her leg was thrown over his like it always was.
She curled into him like muscle memory.
Like home.
Jay stared at the ceiling for a moment, letting his head fall back against the pillow. His heart was still pounding, hard enough he was sure she could feel it against her cheek. His skin flushed everywhere they touched, her fingers resting on his ribs, her breath ghosting over his neck.
She didn’t say much. Just settled into him quietly, like this was the only place she wanted to be.
He hoped. God, he hoped she could feel what he couldn’t say.
That every heartbeat under her ear was his way of telling her:. You’re not alone. Not now. Not ever.
And then, in the softest voice, almost too quiet to hear, she mumbled:
“Thank you.” His arm tightened around her. But then she softly said, “I love you.”
Jay’s breath stopped.
He didn’t move. Didn’t blink. For a second, his world went silent. Just her voice echoing in his skull, shattering through the walls he didn’t even realize he’d built.
But then she added, with a sleepy sigh, “You’re such a great friend.”
Friend.
It hit him like a gut punch, sharp and quiet and deep. He didn’t flinch. Didn’t let it show. He just closed his eyes and exhaled, slow and steady, like it didn’t kill him just a little.
Maybe someday she’d mean it another way.
But not tonight.
Tonight wasn’t about him.
It was about her feeling safe. Feeling loved. Feeling whole.
So he swallowed the sting, pressed a kiss into her hair, and whispered, “I love you too, Berry.”
And this time, he let her fall asleep before he did.
Because even if it hurt. He’d always be her safe place.
Always.
Rinnie (Two weeks later)
Europe greeted them with cool wind and old stone buildings, café umbrellas fluttering like flags, and cobblestone streets that rattled the wheels of every equipment crate their team dragged through the airport. It was a new city, a new track, a new kind of chaos.
But Rinnie? She was ready.
The two weeks in China had been a whirlwind. Their team won nearly every race, the campaign launch for Final Lap had not only sold out it exploded. The buzz online was electric. Fans were counting down the days. Rinnie had barely slept, but she was riding a high she didn’t want to come down from.
For once, she felt seen. Like all her hard work, the late nights, the second guessing it meant something.
And maybe part of that confidence came from one night.
One night, in a quiet hotel room with his arms around her and his voice grounding her like gravity.
Jay.
She still thought about that night sometimes. The way he held her like she was something precious. Like she mattered. The way his voice had cracked when he called her Berry and told her she was perfect.
She hadn’t cried like that since.
Not because she was suddenly strong all the time. But because…she remembered. What it felt like to be reminded of who she was by someone who saw everything.
Jay could be cocky. Smug. A menace when he wanted to be. He gave the press that lazy grin like he ruled the world and sometimes? He did. But with her, he never wore the mask. Not once.
She saw every side of him. And he always made sure she could.
God, she loved him for that.
Loved him so much it hurt sometimes.
But she never told him. Not really. Not the real kind of love. Because she’d known two years ago back when they were still climbing the ladder, booking flights on their own credit cards and splitting vending machine snacks that she was doomed. Back when she first saw him wrap his arm around a crying intern and distract her with jokes until she laughed again.
She loved him then.
But she buried it. Because he had dreams, and she had baggage, and life was moving too fast.
And maybe, deep down, she still thought he deserved better. Someone shinier. More put together. Less soft in the wrong places.
Still watching him on the track now, all fire and focus, made her want to scream from the stands and never stop.
She was falling in love all over again. Or maybe she never stopped.
Now, in Europe, everything was different but also exactly the same.
A new place. A new game week. Brutal schedules, endless meetings, language barriers, long days and longer nights. She’d already rewritten a speech twice and organized fan access in three different cities.
But Rinnie wouldn’t trade it for the world.
And best of all?
She had her own room.
The hotel some beautiful stone and glass palace nestled in the heart of the city had finally given the entire team separate suites for the week. And as much as she loved Jay, being near him all the time, being around his quiet affection and louder energy and those damn sleepy morning smiles.
A girl needed her alone time.
Her room was simple but elegant, cream walls and golden sconces, floor to ceiling windows with a view of the old cathedral. The bed was massive, the kind you fall into and disappear. The silence was nice.
She kicked off her shoes, flopped onto the mattress, and sighed into the plush covers.
One week.
Just her.
No roommate. No meetings at midnight. No accidental moments of brushing hands when they both reached for the same snack in the minibar.
No Jay.
Her heart panged a little.
But she smiled anyway.
Because even though she loved her space she already knew who she’d end up texting when the silence got a little too loud.
Rinnie
Day four in Europe.
Launch Day.
The courtyard of the venue buzzed like it had a pulse of its own. Music echoing off old brick walls, lights strung high across pillars and vendor booths like stars in a midday sky. Banners for Final Lap: From the Track to the Heart fluttered overhead in deep navy and gold. The smell of fried skewers and buttery pastries filled the air, mingling with the crisp scent of paper merch and fresh vinyl.
It was happening.
Rinnie stood off to the side of the fan zone, camera slung over one shoulder and lanyard bouncing as she weaved through clusters of fans holding signs, waving flags, and squealing at any staff member who wore an APEX pin.
Ailee was helping direct traffic toward the photo booth wall complete with cutouts of the three drivers in race gear. Staff zipped by with trays of drinks and tote bags. Posters were flying off the racks. Even the custom hoodies were nearly sold out before noon.
Everywhere Rinnie looked, people were smiling. Screaming. Crying.
They’d pulled it off.
And in the middle of it all, elevated on the fan panel stage, stood the reason everyone was here.
Jay, Marco, and Do-hyun.
All three of them sat comfortably on bar stools, legs spread in their usual relaxed poses, mics in hand as they answered fan submitted questions like seasoned entertainers.
They looked like they belonged on the cover of a magazine.
Jeans. Clean white shirts rolled at the forearms. Their navy APEX jackets open just enough to show off silver jewelry, thin layered chains, rings that gleamed when they passed the mic back and forth. Tousled hair, too perfect smiles. Every detail effortless. Every laugh timed like a symphony.
Minyoung stood center-stage, playing the part of charismatic interviewer with sharp questions and even sharper comebacks.
But Rinnie?
She was behind the lens.
She lifted her camera slowly, focusing in on the panel. The soft click of the shutter sounded like a heartbeat. Then again. And again.
She caught Marcos laugh, head tossed back, dimples on full display.
She got Do-hyun leaning into the mic, eyes sparkling as he responded in three languages for three different fans.
And then Jay.
Standing now, mic in hand, pacing a little as he answered a heartfelt question about fear and ambition. One hand gesturing as he spoke, the other holding the cord like it might slip from him if he didn’t anchor it. His jawline caught the light just right. His voice was calm, but his passion never hid.
Rinnie zoomed in.
He looked dangerously good. Like too good.
She caught the shine of his silver ring as he brushed his hair back. The curve of his grin when a fan yelled “Marry me!” and he laughed into the mic, flashing that annoyingly perfect dimple before replying, “Get in line.”
Click.
He turned, just slightly, catching her lens for a split second eyes grazing hers from across the space.
He winked.
She almost dropped the damn camera.
“Focus, woman,” Ailee whispered beside her, suddenly appearing with a clipboard in hand. “You can thirst later. Go get crowd shots before I rat you out.”
Rinnie rolled her eyes, cheeks warm. “I was being professional.”
“Sure,” Ailee smirked. “That camera just happens to love Jay’s jawline.”
Rinnie stuck out her tongue before turning away, but she didn’t deny it.
Because today wasn’t just about surviving it was about celebrating.
Their boys were shining. Their fans were screaming. And for once, everything was exactly how they dreamed it would be.
The fan pit buzzed with energy, the kind that seemed to ripple in waves from the crowd to the stage and back again.
Rinnie adjusted the strap of her camera, clicking another series of shots as Ailee finished setting up the open mic booth now positioned just below the main panel. A clear lane had been created for fans to line up, and one by one, they began stepping forward, questions in hand, hearts on sleeves.
It was magic.
Children dressed in oversized team shirts stepped up with shaky hands and huge grins. Teens with glitter on their cheeks and homemade signs stumbled through questions they’d practiced a hundred times in their bedrooms. There were adults, couples, even an elderly woman who asked Marco to marry her which earned a room shaking laugh and a “You have great taste, ma’am.”
Rinnie snapped away through it all, grinning behind the lens.
The drivers were naturals. Jay leaned back against the panel table, tossing his mic from hand to hand like a lazy cat with a toy, and answered each question like he was having a drink with an old friend. Do-hyun was his usual charming self, witty, expressive, and warm. Marco, chaotic and hilarious, gave answers that earned cheers and groans alike.
One question, “If you could switch bodies with any other driver for a day, who would it be and why?”, made Jay grin and say, “Marco. But only if I get to keep his skincare routine.”
The crowd howled. Rinnie laughed too, catching his dimple in a perfect shot.
This was good. This was everything they wanted it to be.
But then the next fan stepped forward. A girl in her early twenties, nervous but smiling, clutching her mic like it might fly away.
“Hi,” she said, voice trembling a little. “Um…this question’s for Jay, if that’s okay.”
Rinnie’s camera lowered just slightly.
Jay raised his eyebrows, offering her an easy smile. “Let’s hear it.”
The girl laughed nervously. “I was just wondering…do you, um, have a girlfriend? Or…wife? Or is there someone in your life? Or maybe do you want to start a family someday?”
The crowd ooh’ed immediately, playful and curious. Even the other drivers turned toward him with interest. Marco leaned in with a grin like he couldn’t wait to hear what chaos Jay would cause now.
Jay didn’t look flustered.
Not even a little.
He tilted his head, as if considering the weight of the question. Then brought the mic up slowly, fingers curling around it.
“I think…” he said carefully, “if you asked me that a few years ago, I would’ve said no. I was too focused. Too all over the place. Didn’t think I had space in my life for that.”
Rinnie stopped breathing.
He went on, his voice softer now. “But somewhere along the way…someone kind of slipped in. Didn’t try to. Just…happened. And now I can’t imagine what this would’ve looked like without her in it.”
The crowd melted. Cheers. Sighs. Some fans clutched their hearts dramatically.
Jay smiled, but didn’t look at anyone in particular. His eyes swept the crowd once, calm and unreadable. “So yeah. I guess you could say…I’m already in love.”
The mic lowered. The room erupted.
And Rinnie?
She stood frozen, camera still in hand, staring through the viewfinder at a man who had just said the words she hadn’t been expecting. Not from him. Not today.
Already in love.
Her stomach twisted.
He never told her. He never hinted. Not even a whisper.
And the worst part? The worst part was realizing just how badly she wanted it to be her.
She swallowed the lump in her throat and adjusted her focus. It’s fine. She could take photos. That’s what she was here for.
She was being silly anyway. Dramatic. She was good at that. Jay probably just…kept it private. Maybe he didn’t want to say her name. Maybe it was someone before all this. Maybe..
She shook her head, blinked too hard, and brought the camera back up.
Her hands were steady. Her heart wasn’t.
But she didn’t miss the next shot.
Even if, for the first time today, it didn’t make her smile.
