UNLIKELY MATCH | HEESEUNG

1 - Boss From Hell

HEESEUNG'S POV

Leaning against the doorframe of the garage's door, I watch the mechanics work on my racing car while mentally critiquing their every move. They scurry around like ants, but their efficiency leaves much to be desired. My patience wears thin as I observe their sluggish pace. I don't understand why the boss says she needs enhancements when I drive her just fine, it's not like he's the one behind the wheel pushing her to the limit.

With a disdainful snort, I shake my head. "Enhancements," I mutter to myself, rolling my eyes. "Just an excuse for them to tinker and meddle with something that doesn't need fixing."

I've been riding for Ferrari for the last few seasons, and my record speaks for itself. Championships, podium finishes – I've done it all. And I did it with this car, just the way it is. Sure, she's not perfect, but she's mine, and I know every inch of her like the back of my hand. 

I watch as they fuss over the engine, adjusting this and tweaking that, as if they know better than the man who's spent years mastering every nuance of this machine. But I'll humor them for now. If it keeps them busy and out of my hair, so be it. I guess I'll just head to work out while do their thing.

Stepping out of the garage, I make my way to the team's gym, my mind already shifting gears from frustration to focus. Riding for Ferarri had always been like this, they don't give a fuck about what I think or how I feel about my car. To them, it's just another piece of equipment to be toyed with until it fits their vision of perfection. I'm a racer, damn it, and I know what I need to succeed on the track.

When I walk into the gym, Junseok is already there and I curse under my breath. The man despises my mere presence and we've always been dancing around each other like predators in the same territory. But today, I'm not in the mood for his passive-aggressive jabs so I'll keep my fucks for another day to spend on something more worthwhile than engaging in petty squabbles with him. Since the day we had a press conference and I said something that rubbed him the wrong way, he's been a thorn in my side.

He's not a bad driver, I admit it, but he relies too heavily on data and analytics, neglecting the raw instinct that separates the good from the great. And he's a fucking asshole for thinking that he's better than me just because he can crunch numbers and analyze graphs. But if that's what gets him through the night, then so be it.

Ignoring the disdainful glance he throws my way, I grab a towel and head straight for the treadmill, cranking up the speed without so much as a warm-up. My muscles protest, but I push through the discomfort, letting the rhythmic pounding of my feet drown out the noise of the world around me. I can feel the tension melting away, replaced by the familiar rush of adrenaline that comes with pushing my body to its limits. This, this is where I feel alive – not in some stuffy garage with mechanics who think they know better than me.

But then he approaches me, getting on the treadmill next to mine before I can even protest. I shoot him a sideways glance. What does he want now? "Look who decided to grace us with his presence. I heard they're making some changes to your precious car. Must be tough, having to rely on someone else to make you competitive."

Oh, so that's what he's been after. Typical Jungseok, always looking for an opportunity to get under my skin. I suppress a scoff, not willing to engage in his petty taunts. "I thought you'd be too busy crunching numbers to care about what's happening in the garage."

"I always make time to keep an eye on my competition." As much as I want to ignore him, I can feel my temper starting to fray. I'm really in no mood to have a conversation with someone like him, and I sure as fuck don't want to let him get the satisfaction of seeing me lose my cool. So, with a deep breath, I decide to humor him, at least for now.