Chapter 14: Wig Twisting Season

It's 7 AM and I'm eating eggs that cost more than my monthly streaming subscription. The cafeteria at Zenith HQ gleams with the same polished perfection as everything else in this building, all chrome and purple accents that scream "we have more money than god." I push the food around my plate, alone at a table designed for six, feeling like I've stumbled into someone else's life.

Ivy's been in the simulator since dawn. Three days straight now, all focused on preparations for Suzuka next week. The engineers have been tweaking setups for hours on end, trying to find that magical combination that'll shave off precious milliseconds. I've learned that racing at this level is less about dramatic moments and more about the painstaking accumulation of tiny advantages.

The in-house Zenith chef slides a fresh cup of coffee in front of me with a sympathetic smile. I guess my face is doing that thing again, the one that makes people want to comfort me.

"Ms. Hunt still at it?" she asks, collecting my barely-touched plate.

"Yeah," I sigh. "Third day running."

She nods like this explains everything about my mood, which it doesn't. What's really eating at me is the notification sitting in my streaming app, reminding me I haven't gone live in almost two weeks. My subscribers are probably thinking I've abandoned them, but every time I consider firing up the stream, my stomach knots with dread.

What would I even say? "Hey guys, sorry I disappeared, my girlfriend dumped me on international television and now I'm fucking her rival who may or may not have magical racing powers when I'm oozing inside her?"

Speaking of Blair, yesterday she casually mentioned being "single and focused on racing" during an interview with Sky Sports. The reporter didn't even ask about her relationship status, Blair just threw it in there, like she was announcing a tire change. The clip's gone viral, of course. My phone's been blowing up with messages from people I haven't spoken to in years, all pretending to check if I'm okay while fishing for gossip.

I take a sip of coffee, letting the bitter warmth distract me from the hollow feeling in my chest.

The truth is, I do miss Blair. Not the Blair who dumped me in that trailer, who looked through me like I was just another piece of equipment that wasn't performing to specification. I miss the girl with electric blue hair who used to fall asleep on my shoulder during long flights, who'd wake me up at 3 AM because she'd thought of a new racing line and needed to talk it through. The Blair who loved loving me.

I trace my finger around the rim of my coffee cup, memories flickering like old race footage. That first kiss in the rain after her F3 podium. The way she'd curl against me on hotel beds, planning our future between races.

"We'll get a place in Monaco," she'd whisper, her silver eyes bright with dreams. "With a terrace overlooking the harbor where they set up the street circuit."

I never minded being second to racing. How could I? The odds of making it as a driver are astronomical, and Blair was special, I knew that from the first time I saw her handle a kart. I understood the sacrifice. I just thought I'd be waiting at the finish line when the checkered flag fell on her career.

I sigh, draining the last of my coffee. Life with Ivy isn't what I expected, but it's good enough. Better than good in many ways. She's surprisingly kind when we're alone, attentive in ways Blair never was. And the sex... Christ, the sex is almost frightening in its intensity. Sometimes I feel like I'm being consumed rather than loved, like she's trying to absorb something essential from me.

The strangest part is this nagging feeling that I'm using her more than she's using me. She's given me a place to stay, access to a world I never truly belonged in, and protection from the media circus that followed Blair's announcement. All I do in return is... what? Fuck her to my hearts content? Be her good luck charm? It feels unbalanced, like I'm getting the better end of this bizarre arrangement.

My phone buzzes with a notification. It's Nickismyhusbando in my Twitch DM's: "Day 13 of no streams. Are you alive? Your subscribers are worried."

I should message her back. She's been my most loyal mod for years, defending me against trolls and keeping the chat civil.

The cafeteria door swings open with a soft pneumatic hiss, and my heart stops.

Blair West stands frozen in the doorway. She's wearing the Zenith team uniform, but it looks different on her somehow, stiffer, more formal. Our eyes lock across the room, and for a moment, neither of us moves. The surprise on her face is almost comical, silver eyes widening, lips parting slightly.

"Nick?" Her voice carries across the empty cafeteria, echoing slightly off the polished surfaces. "What are you doing here?"

My mouth goes completely dry as I stare at Blair, my brain scrambling for something, anything, coherent to say. Those silver eyes I once knew so well are boring into me, demanding an explanation for my presence.

"Uhhh..." The syllable hangs in the air between us, painfully inadequate. I swallow hard, my throat clicking audibly in the silent cafeteria. "I'm dating someone who works here now."

The words tumble out awkwardly, but at least they're true. Sort of. If you can call whatever Ivy and I are doing "dating."

Blair's perfect eyebrows shoot upward, her mouth forming a small 'o' of surprise. She takes a step forward, her racing boots squeaking slightly against the polished floor.

"You're dating..." She glances around as if the mystery girlfriend might materialize from behind the salad bar. "Who exactly?"

I fidget with my coffee cup, suddenly fascinated by a chip in the ceramic. "It's, um, complicated."

Blair's laugh is sharp, cutting through the tension like a knife. "Complicated? It hasn't even been a week, Nick." She shakes her head, electric blue hair swinging with the movement. "I knew you were desperate, but this is pathetic even for you."

Something inside me snaps. A week? As if that's the problem here. My hands clench around the coffee cup so tight I'm surprised it doesn't shatter.

"You don't get to judge me," I say, my voice dangerously quiet. "You threw me away like yesterday's garbage."

The rage building inside me feels like a physical force, pressing against my ribcage, clawing up my throat. Words bubble up, vicious and poisonous, things I've never said to anyone, things I never thought I was capable of saying. I want to tell her exactly what I think of her, how she should walk into traffic, how the world would be better off if she just disappeared.

But Ivy's face flashes in my mind. Proud, intense Ivy who's working her ass off in the simulator right now. Ivy who, for whatever reason, sees something in me worth having. I can't make a scene here, in her team's building, in front of her rival.

"I've got to go," I mutter, standing abruptly. The chair scrapes against the floor with a screech that makes Blair wince.

"Nick, hold on…" she starts, but she's interrupted as the cafeteria door bursts open.

Ivy bursts through the door, her face glowing with an almost manic energy. Her hair is slightly disheveled, purple highlights catching the fluorescent light as she practically bounces into the cafeteria.

"Nick! There you are," she calls out, her voice carrying that distinctive post-simulator high. "I've got an hour break before the next session and I thought we could…"

She freezes mid-sentence, her purple eyes locking onto Blair like a targeting system. The smile on her face doesn't disappear, it transforms, morphing from genuine joy to something predatory.

"Blair," Ivy says, her voice dropping an octave. "Interesting. I thought you were supposed to be in Suzuka already for that promotional thing with Mercedes."

The temperature in the room seems to drop ten degrees. Blair's silver eyes narrow as she straightens her spine, instantly shifting into competitive mode.

"Change of plans," she replies coolly. "The team wanted me here for some simulator work first." Her gaze flicks between Ivy and me, the wheels visibly turning behind those silver eyes. "What were you saying about Nick, exactly?"

Ivy slinks toward me with fluid, confident movements. Her hand lands possessively on my shoulder, thumb brushing against my neck in a gesture that's unmistakably intimate.

"Nothing that concerns you," she purrs. "Nick and I have... private matters to discuss."

The implication hangs in the air like smoke. Blair's face goes through a rapid series of emotions, confusion, disbelief, and finally, something that looks almost like hurt.

"You're joking," Blair says, her voice barely above a whisper. She looks at me, searching my face for some sign that this is all an elaborate prank. "Nick, tell me she's joking."

I swallow hard, heat rising to my face. "I told you I was dating someone who works here."

Blair's mouth opens and closes like a fish gasping for water. "Dating? You're dating Ivy Hunt? My teammate?"

Ivy leans close to my ear, her breath tickling my skin as she whispers, "Oh, so we're finally putting a label on it, are we?" Her voice carries a hint of amusement, yet there's an undertone that's victorious.

Before I can respond, she straightens up and fixes Blair with those piercing purple eyes. "Yes, we're dating," she announces, her voice carrying that championship confidence. "We're lovers, Blair. You tossed him aside like he meant nothing, and now he's mine." Her hand slides from my shoulder to my waist, pulling me closer against her side.

Blair's face pales, her silver eyes widening with shock before narrowing with calculation. She steps forward, ignoring Ivy completely as she addresses me directly.

"Nick, she's only dating you to get in my head," she says, her voice low and urgent. "Can't you see that? This is just another race strategy to her."

I almost laugh at Blair's accusation. If only she knew how backwards she has it. Maybe that would've stung if Ivy had been playing mind games with me, but the reality is, I've barely seen her do anything except push herself to the limit in the sim rig and then practically worship me in private. Every moment away from the track, she's been unexpectedly gentle. Plus, she's literally the reason I'm not sleeping on my mom's couch right now, drowning in her passive-aggressive comments about my "failed relationship" and "wasted potential."

I open my mouth to tell Blair off, but before I can get the words out, something in Ivy snaps.

"You fucking bitch," Ivy snarls, her voice dropping to a dangerous whisper that makes the hairs on my neck stand up. Her body tenses against mine, coiled like a spring about to release. I've seen Ivy angry a lot these past few days, but this is different.

"Ivy…" I start, but she's already moving, stalking toward Blair with such menace that Blair actually takes a step back.

"You think everything is about you, don't you?" Ivy's voice trembles with rage, her hands balled into tight fists at her sides. "You think I'd waste my time dating someone just to mess with your precious fucking head?"

Blair's eyes widen as Ivy advances on her. "I…"

"Nick is MINE," Ivy continues, cutting her off. "Not because of you. Not because of racing. Not because of anything except that he completes me in ways your self-centered brain couldn't possibly understand."

The chef who had been hovering near the counter quietly backs through the swinging kitchen doors, wisely removing herself from the blast radius.

"Ivy, calm down," I say, reaching for her arm.

Her eyes snap to mine, that dangerous fire still burning in them, but something else flickers beneath the surface. Fear.

"I know you're not just with me to fuck with Blair," I say quietly, my hand still on her arm.

The admission hangs between us, more honest than I'd planned to be in this fluorescent-lit cafeteria. Ivy's expression softens for just a moment before hardening again as she turns back to Blair, shooting her a glare that could melt steel.

When she looks back at me, the fight seems to drain from her body. She sighs, a deep, weary sound that makes her seem suddenly human rather than the force of nature I've come to know.

"Let's go back to the room," she says, her voice low enough that only I can hear it.

I nod, relieved, and let her take my hand. As we turn to leave, Blair steps forward.

"Nick, wait…"

"He's done waiting for you," Ivy cuts in, her tone final. "Come on, Nick."

We walk out of the cafeteria, Ivy's grip on my hand almost painfully tight. The hallway stretches before us, all sleek surfaces and Zenith purple, but I barely notice it.

As we turn the corner toward the private rooms, Ivy suddenly stops walking. She turns to face me, those purple eyes searching mine with an intensity that makes my breath catch.

"Nick," she says, her voice softer than usual. "Let's go to Suzuka early. Tomorrow, if possible."

I blink in surprise. "Suzuka? But we have a few more days."

Her fingers tighten around mine. "I know, but I want to get settled there, maybe do some track walks before everyone else arrives."

"No," I say firmly, crossing my arms. "I'm not going to be the reason you rush to Suzuka and mess up your preparation. If you need to stay here and train, I'll just... I don't know, hang out in our room. Read a book or something."

Ivy's eyes flash with something dangerous.

"Nick, you don't understand," she interrupts, her voice sharp with anxiety. "I don't want Blair to steal you from me."

The words hang between us, raw and exposed. I stare at her, momentarily speechless. The great Ivy Hunt, three-time world champion, is afraid of losing me to Blair West? The same Blair who tossed me aside like yesterday's garbage?

"Steal me?" I finally manage. "Ivy, that's... that's not going to happen."

The look in Ivy's eyes shifts from vulnerability to determination in an instant. She grabs my wrist and practically drags me down the hallway, her grip surprisingly strong. Before I can process what's happening, she's shoved me through the doorway of our room, following close behind and slamming the door with enough force to rattle the frame.

"That's right," she says, her voice low and intense as she presses me against the wall. "Because I won't let that happen. I won't let her take you from me."

Her intensity is overwhelming, those purple eyes burning into mine with a fierceness that both terrifies and thrills me. I reach up, cupping her face between my hands, feeling the tension in her jaw.

I stroke my thumb across her cheekbone, watching as her eyelids flutter slightly at the touch. An idea forms in my mind, one that might calm her fears while ensuring she gets what she really needs.

"You know what I want?" I ask, my voice dropping to just above a whisper. "I want to watch you beat her. On the track. Where it matters."

Ivy's expression shifts, her competitive nature immediately engaged. "I can beat her right now if we left for Suzuka this second. I don't need more simulator time."

I lean forward, my lips brushing against her ear as I whisper, "But can you ruin her?"

She pulls back slightly, her eyes widening as she processes my words. A slow, predatory smile spreads across her face, like I've just offered her the most delicious possibility imaginable.

"You want me to destroy her?" The excitement in her voice is palpable, her body practically vibrating with renewed energy.

I nod, though guilt twists in my stomach. In truth, I just want her to get the practice she deserves. I'm not actually hoping for Blair's destruction, I'm hoping Ivy will calm down and focus, rather than rushing us to Japan out of insecurity.

Ivy's hands slide up my chest, coming to rest on either side of my neck. She leans in, her lips capturing mine in a kiss that's surprisingly gentle despite the fire in her eyes.

"I'll ruin Blair just for you, Nick," she promises, her thumb tracing my bottom lip. "I'll make her regret ever letting you go."