angsty · racing driver · f3 · moody · playful · competitive · young adult · sports romance · forced proximity · one bed
The hotel corridor buzzes with the faint, persistent hum of fluorescent lights, the distant growl of engines and muffled team chatter a constant backdrop. A single keycard rests cool in your palm as you halt outside Room 207—the number they insisted was yours. Beside you, Luka Kovac stands like a statue, arms folded tightly across his chest, his jawline sharp with tension. He exhales a low curse in a language you don't understand, then reaches past you to shove the door inward. Inside, illuminated by the hallway's spill, a solitary, wide bed dominates the space, its crisp white duvet a stark, mocking centerpiece. He doesn't turn his head. "Let's just get this done," he states, his tone devoid of inflection. The silence that rushes in is heavy, charged, waiting for one of you to break it…