❀ summary: when max bumps into someone from his past, he realises that old feelings aren’t easily forgotten
❀ warnings: slightly suggestive at the end
❀ authors note: n/a
They had been young when it began. Too young, some said, though neither of them believed it at the time. Max was still climbing in F1, the sharp-edged prodigy with an endless future ahead, and she was just breaking into her own career. The connection had been immediate, almost violent in its intensity. Late night phone calls that stretched until dawn, hurried visits between races and assignments, the kind of love that made the world feel electric.
But reality didn’t often soften for either of them. His schedule consumed him. Long stretches away, endless media duties, the constant demand to perform at the highest level. Hers wasn’t any gentler - deadlines, travel, responsibility pressing in from every angle. They tried to fit each other into spaces left over, but there were fewer and fewer of them until they were left staring at a truth neither wanted to admit.
The breakup hadn’t been cruel. No betrayal, no slammed doors, no bitter final words. Just a quiet evening where love sat heavy between them, too strong to deny, too fragile to survive what their worlds were asking of them. Tears, promises to always care, to never hate - and then silence.
Neither of them reached out. The years passed. She convinced herself that time would dull it, that one day she would look back and it would feel like a closed chapter instead of a wound.
Until the paddock.
~~~
She hadn’t come here for him. That was the last thing on her mind when her company assigned her to the F1 weekend. The paddock was alive in the way only F1 could be. A shifting storm of engineers with clipboards, mechanics in branded polos, reporters jostling for positions, fans pressed against barriers hoping for a glimpse of their idols. Cameras flashed, radios crackled, the hum of engines warming up vibrated faintly in the air. She tucked her pass against her chest and kept moving, trying not to get swallowed by the chaos.
And then- there was a voice.
Deep, distinct, cutting effortlessly through the noise. She hadn’t heard it in years, but her body reacted before her brain did. The sudden rush in her chest, the heat in her face, the tightening in her stomach.
Max.
She froze before she could stop herself, turning her head like she was afraid she’d imagined it. But he was there. Just a few paces away, stepping out from behind a wall of Red Bull branding, still trailed by cameras and staff. He looked almost the same - hair a little shorter, jaw a little sharper, but the same focused stride, the same presence that made people instinctively move out of his way.
He was talking to someone, expression neutral, until his eyes slid past them and landed on her.
The world didn’t stop, but it felt like it did. For a second, maybe two, the noise of the paddock dulled, the frantic movement blurred, and there was just him. His gaze locked onto hers like no time had passed, like the years hadn’t stretched out between them.
Max froze mid-step. The person beside him kept talking, oblivious, but his expression faltered, shock flickered first, the something softer - disbelief, recognition, something unguarded that reminded her of late night confessions whispered in half-dark hotel rooms.
Her chest tightened. She hadn’t expected this - to see him, to feel everything come crashing back into her in one sharp, unbearable instant.
And for a long heartbeat, she couldn’t move either.
“...Y/N?”
“Hi Max.” Her voice came out steadier than she felt, even if her hands were tight around the strap of her bag. “It’s… been a while.”
For a moment, he only stared, his expression unreadable - then the edges softened. His lips pressed into something almost like a smile, though there was hesitation tucked behind it.
“Yeah. too long.”
The paddock around them seemed to roar on - mechanics rushing around, journalists murmuring into recorders, cameras flashing. Yet it all blurred into background noise, like the world had tilted them back into their own orbit.
“How are you?” Max asked finally, his accent curling familiar around the words. “It looks like… you’re working here?” He gestured at her badge, eyes flickering down only briefly before meeting hers again.
“Yeah. My company got brought on for some sponsor-side coverage.” SHe shifted her weight, forcing her voice into something casual yet professional. “Honestly, I didn’t even realise this would put me right back in the middle of things until I arrived this morning.”
HIs brow arched slightly. “And ran into me?”
The silence stretched, not uncomfortable exactly, but thick with everything unspoken. Memories - late-night phone calls, airport goodbyes, laughter over cheap takeaway in hotel rooms. Things they’d left behind.
Max cleared his throat, searching for safe ground. “Your career seems… good. You always said you wanted to make a name for yourself. Looks like you did.”
Her chest tightened. “I guess so. And you… well, I can’t exactly keep up with the number of wins anymore.” She gave a small smile, trying for lightness. “Congratulations, by the way. On the championships.”
Something flickered across his face - pride, maybe, but also sadness. “Thanks.” HIs gaze lingered, steady in a way that made her stomach twist. “It wasn’t the same without you watching.”
The words were soft, but she caught them and for a heartbeat she forgot how to breathe.
She forced herself to glance at her watch, to break the spell. “I should- I should get going. Long day ahead.”
“Of course.” His jaw flexed, but he nodded. “It was good to see you, Y/N.”
“You too, Max.”
Her feet carried her away before her heart could betray her, her pulse hammering so hard she thought it might echo in the paddock. She didn’t dare look back at him.
But if she had, she would’ve seen him standing there, longer than necessary, eyes following her retreat like he couldn’t quite bring himself to let go a second time.
~~~
The first reunion had left her rattled, and had her heart racing in a way she hadn’t expected. She’d convinced herself it was nothing - just Max being polite and nostalgic for what they once had. But as the season rolled on, it became impossible to ignore that fate, or maybe the paddock itself, kept placing Max back into her orbit.
On the next race weekend, the hospitality suite was buzzing with team staff, media people and drivers drifting in and out. She’d tucked herself away in a quiet corner, scrolling through her phone when a shadow fell across the table.
She looked up, expecting a PR rep, and froze.
Max stood there, holding two paper cups.
“Coffee?” He asked softly.
For a second, she just blinked at him, confused, and then the scent hit her - the exact order she always used to drink. Too sweet, not strong enough for the long hours, but her comfort in a cup.
“You remembered.” She said softly as she took the cup from his hands. Their fingers brushed together gently for just a second, but it was enough for a shiver down her arm.
Max shrugged, playing it off, though Y/N could see that his ears were a little pink. “Of course I did.”
“Thank you.” She smiled, despite herself, taking a sip of the warm beverage.
He nodded, giving her the barest twitch of a smile, and walked off. It was professional, polite and nothing out of place. But when she glanced up again, he had turned around, looking back at her for just a little longer than he should have.
The next week Y/N was at a sponsor dinner, and as always it was tedious and long. Round tables with polite laughter and rehearsed stories. She had been bracing herself for the small talk when she realized, with a pang, that Max was at her table too.
The evening dragged on until someone made a dry remark about yet another flight delta in the circuit calendar. Without even thinking, she rolled her eyes as she muttered under her breath.
“Yeah, because heaven forbid a driver ever has to sit in economy like the rest of us.”
It wasn’t loud, it wasn’t even meant for him. But Max heard. And he laughed - not the clipped, diplomatic laugh he gave to the media, but a real laugh. Warm and unguarded, the kind that curled low in her chest because she’d missed the sound of it.
The others looked surprised. Max Verstappen didn’t laugh like that often, especially not at boring sponsor dinners.
“Still sharp as ever.” He tilted his head towards her, still amused by her remark.
“Some things never change.” She smiled, trying to play it off as she felt her cheeks heating up.
He didn’t press, and neither did she. But through the rest of the dinner, she felt his eyes drift toward her, as if he wanted to say more but knew better.
And when she excused herself early, she caught the way his smile lingered even after she left.
~~~
The pattern of her bumping into Max continued on. Currently, Y/N was sitting in the media centre surrounded by chaos. There were papers scattered everywhere, laptops glowing and people moving in and out as she tried to concentrate on what she was doing.
She leant over across the desk in order to reach a pen when she felt another hand reaching for the same one. Her eyes flickered up, only to be met with those familiar blue orbs. It should have been nothing. Just a brush of skin and a shared glance. But the contact sparked hotter than it should have, leaving her pulse jumping.
“I’m sorry.” She spoke softly as she pulled her hand back.
Max kept his gaze fixed on hers as he spoke, his voice lower than usual. “Don’t be.”
The noise of the room seemed to fade for a moment, drowned out by the weight of his eyes on her. Neither of them moved until someone called his name and the spell broke.
He left with a sharp nod, all business again. But later that afternoon, she noticed him distracted, his jaw tight as he answered questions with less patience than usual. Like maybe he’d been replaying the same moment she couldn’t get out of her head.
No cameras ever picked it up. No headlines ran with it. To the outside world, she and Max were strangers who’d simply crossed paths again.
But those who knew him - his trainer and his closest friends - noticed the shift.
The way his tone softened when he said her name. The way his mood lightened around her, though he tried to hide it. The way his focus wavered, just for a second when he saw her across the room.
~~~
By the fourth weekend, it was almost a rhythm. Their paths crossed in ways that could be written off as coincidence. A coffee. A laugh. A brush of hands. Nothing anyone else would notice. But they did.
That night, though, there was no mistaking it.
The team’s post-race dinner was loud and crowded, drivers and staff spilling across a long table in a private restaurant room. She hadn’t planned on staying for long - just enough to fulfill obligations, shake the right hands, smile at the right people. But when she walked in and saw Max already there, seated near the end, something inside her wavered.
He looked up almost immediately, like he’d felt her presence before he saw her. For a moment his expression softened in the way it always did around her, and then he masked it with a sip of his drink.
The meal dragged on with half-hearted toasts and weary laughter. Around her, conversations rose and fell, but she couldn’t stop noticing the way his gaze flickered her way, never lingering long enough to be obvious, but always finding her again.
At some point, she excused herself, slipping out toward the quieter balcony that overlooked the city lights. The night air was a relief - cool against her skin after hours of heat and noise.
She hadn’t expected him to follow.
“Escaping?” Max’s voice came from behind her, softer than it had been all evening.
She turned around, startled but not surprised. “Something like that. I can only handle so many sponsor stories before I start memorising them word for word.”
That made him laugh - low and genuine, the sound threading between them like a memory brought back to life. He stepped closer, leaning against the railing beside her, leaving just enough space that it wasn’t inappropriate but close enough that the air seemed charged.
For a moment they didn’t speak. The city hummed below, and she felt her heart thudding in the silence.
“You look… happy,” Max said finally, his voice careful, as though he wasn’t sure if he had the right to ask. “With your work. With everything.”
She hesitated. “I am most days. Are you? Happy I mean.”
His jaw flexed. “I should be. Championships, races, all of it. But…” He broke off, shaking his head with a humourless smile. “Some things don’t fill the gaps you think they will.”
Her breath caught, because she knew what he meant. Or at least, she hoped she did.
The silence between them stretched again, heavy with everything unsaid. Memories pressed close, too close, and she had to grip the railing to keep steady.
“Max–” she began, but the sound of someone calling his name from inside shattered the moment.
He glanced toward the door, then back at her. His eyes held hers for one long, unguarded beat - a promise, or maybe a question.
Then he pushed off the railing, his voice quiet. “Goodnight, Y/N.”
And just like that, he was gone, slipping back inside and leaving her staring at the city lights with her heart in her throat.
~~~
It was late when the night wound down. Laughter faded, taxis pulled away, and the city softened into quiet. She lingered in the lobby a little longer than necessary, scrolling idly through her phone, waiting for the crowd to thin.
When the elevator doors slid open, Max stepped out. For a split second, both froze. He had his jacket slung over one arm, hair a little messy from the evening, and the same tired look in his eyes she recognised from before.
Neither spoke right away.
“You’re still here,” he said finally, his voice lower, more intimate in the empty space.
“I could say the same about you,” she replied, her lips curving without meaning to.
The corner of his mouth twitched. He glanced toward the exit, then back at her. For a heartbeat, he seemed undecided, like he was fighting himself. “Walk with me?”
She nodded before she could think any better of it.
The streets were quiet, washed in amber streetlight and the faint hum of traffic in the distance. They walked side by side, hands brushing once, twice, as though daring fate to push them closer.
“It’s strange,” she said after a while, her voice barely above the hush of the night. “Being here again. Around all this. Around… you.”
He stopped walking, turning to face her fully. His eyes were sharp, searching, but softer than she remembered - like he was afraid she’d vanish if he blinked.
“I’ve tried not to think about it,” Max admitted. “About us. About what it meant. But every time I see you, it feels like I’m back there. Like no time passed.”
Her throat tightened. “It wasn’t nothing.”
“No,” he said quickly and firmly. “It wasn’t.”
The air between them thickened, charged with every unsaid word from the past years pressing down on them. She felt her pulse hammering, felt the trembling edge of a choice hanging between them.
And then, almost before she could breathe, he closed the distance.
His lips found hers, tentative at first, then certain when she didn’t pull away. The world tilted - two years dissolving in an instant, every stolen glance and every unspoken thought crashing into that kiss.
When they broke apart, their foreheads were pressed together and she could feel his warm breath against her skin.
“This changes everything,” she whispered.
Max’s hand brushed against hers, fingers curling like a vow. “Good. It should.”
They walked side by side through the quiet corridors, shoulders brushing now and then. Neither of them are moving away. When they reached the elevators, she pressed the button, but neither spoke.
The doors opened with a soft chime. She stepped inside, turning back to look at him - only to find him still standing there, hands in his pockets, gaze fixed on her like he was weighing something.
The silence stretched between them. Her breath hitched, the kiss they’d shared still burned on her lips
Max stepped closer, one hand braced on the door, keeping them open. He was close enough that Y/N could smell his aftershave. His voice dropped low.
“Y/N?”
She tilted her chin up, meeting his eyes - and the elevator doors slid shut between them before either dared to break the moment.
Her pulse thundered. She didn't verbally ask him to follow her, but the look on her face told him everything he needed to know. He stepped inside the elevator just as the doors closed. Lifting the pair up through the hotel to a night they wouldn’t forget.
With a theology degree under his belt and medical school on the horizon, all Dennis Whitaker wants to do is spend the summer earning as much money and staying as far from Broken Bow as possible — and he stumbles upon the perfect way to do both, when his old roommate from the University of Nebraska, slated to work as a yachtie in the Mediterranean, suddenly falls ill and needs someone to take over the position.
Out of his triple-landlocked home state for the first time, Dennis feels both completely out of his element and freer than ever before. It takes sixteen hours to fly to Genoa, three weeks to complete his deckhand certification, and by the end of the month, he's welcomed aboard the Baby Jane, led by Captain Dana Evans, where it takes almost no time at all to find comfort in his new crew — especially his boss Michael Robinavitch, Dana’s right-hand-man and the ship's First Officer. Robby's a confident, capable leader, doing all he can to ensure that the guests are happy with the limited resources they have, and the more time Dennis spends with him, learning the ropes—sometimes literally—the more he finds himself falling for Robby's charm.
But what's supposed to be a simple, breezy summer soon becomes much more complicated as Dennis has to decide whether to return stateside at the end of his contract or stay in the only place he feels like he really belongs. The choice isn't made any easier when, after a particularly rough charter, he finds himself in Robby's bunk, sparking a summer romance that they have to work to conceal from the rest of the crew. And with a rotating cast of difficult-to-please guests, a ship-wide system shutdown, and a burgeoning sexuality crisis thrown into the mix, it seems that the next three months will be anything but smooth sailing.
