Min-Jae: What the fuck is this?
Min-Jae: You’re all over the internet with him. Hugging after the race.
She typed back quickly, deliberately obtuse.
Aria: We’re just friends. He invited me to watch the race.
Min-Jae: Friends? Don’t insult me.
Min-Jae: Friends don’t look at each other like that on global TV.
She left it unread.
Later, as the party wound down, Mia found her near the railing.
“Dana’s downstairs already,” Mia said. “She’s saving us a table. Come on—let’s sneak out before Jax gets dragged into another sponsor photo.”
Aria glanced across the rooftop. Jax was deep in conversation with Marcus and a sponsor rep, laughing at something, but his eyes flicked to her every few seconds—like he was checking she was still there.
“Go,” he mouthed when he caught her looking, giving her a quick wink that made her stomach give a tiny, unexpected flutter.
She followed Mia to the elevator.
Downstairs, the hotel bar was quieter—dim lights, low jazz, a handful of late-night patrons. Dana was already there, sprawled in a booth with three drinks in front of her.
“Finally,” Dana said, grinning wide as Mia and Aria approached. She stood up halfway, extending a hand across the table to Aria. “You must be Aria. I’m Dana—Jax’s physio, Mia’s enabler, and apparently the last person to meet the girl who’s got everyone buzzing. Nice to finally put a face to the name.”
Aria shook her hand, smiling, a little surprised by the easy warmth. “Hi, Dana. Nice to meet you too. Thanks for the drink.”
Dana waved it off and slid back into the booth, patting the seat beside her. “Sit, sit. Mia hasn’t stopped talking about you since Singapore. ‘She’s smart, she’s funny,—on and on. So you must be great, because Mia has the best taste in friends. I trust her radar completely.”
Mia rolled her eyes but laughed as she slid in opposite them. “I do not talk about people that much.”
“You do,” Dana said cheerfully. “And I listen, because when you get excited about someone, it usually means they’re worth knowing.” She pushed the mojito toward Aria. “Figured you might want something light.”
Aria laughed—real, surprised—and took the seat. “Thank you. I could use a break from… everything.”
Dana leaned forward, elbows on the table, eyes sharp and curious but kind. “Okay, spill. You and Jax—you hit it off in Singapore, right? Mia mentioned running into you there. And now you’re here, in his garage, getting podium hugs like it’s the most natural thing in the world. What’s happening? Is this… a thing?”
Mia nodded, sipping her beer. “Yeah, come on. We’re dying to know. He’s been quiet since Singapore, and then boom—you show up in Mexico. Coincidence?”
Aria exhaled, fingers tracing the condensation on her glass. She kept her voice light, honest. “As I said, it’s really just good timing. Just… seeing what happens.”
Dana raised an eyebrow, but her grin was approving, warm. “Smart. No rush. But that hug on the barriers? The way he kept looking up at you every session? Girl, the paddock’s already shipping you two hard.”
Mia laughed softly. “She’s right. But if it’s low-key for now, we won’t push. Just know—we’re rooting for whatever this turns into. Jax deserves someone who shows up for him.”
They talked for hours—Dana telling stories about Jax’s early days at Ashworth (“He once tried to charm his way out of a weight fine by doing push-ups in the stewards’ office—didn’twork”), Mia sharing how she’d met Lucas (“I was supposed to fix his image, ended up fixing his heart instead”), and Aria opening up, bit by bit, about Min-Jae.
She kept it simple and honest: how they’d been together for years, how everything had ended abruptly with a single text while she was on a plane to Singapore, how the silence that followed had felt louder than any stadium crowd. She didn’t mention the proposal or the strategy behind the public appearances. She simply let them see her as someone who’d been left by her ex and was still figuring out how to move forward.
Dana listened, no judgment, just sharp nods and the occasional “fucking men” muttered under her breath.
Mia reached over and squeezed Aria’s hand. “You deserve someone who fights for you the way you fight for them. And if Min-Jae can’t see what he lost… that’s on him.”
Aria nodded, throat tight. “I’m starting to believe that.”
By the time they finished their drinks, Aria felt lighter. Not fixed. Not whole. But… steadier. And the three of them—laughing, trading stories, no agenda—felt like the beginning of something real. A quiet friendship blooming in the middle of the chaos.
