Chapter 3 Sparks Under Pressure
Tasha’s POV
“ALRIGHT, listen up,” the instructor’s voice rang out from somewhere behind us. “Team assignments are posted. Racers and engineers—you work together or you fail together. Simple as that.”
A screen flickered to life above the bay and names appeared in clean, organized rows. I searched mine and immediately felt like having a heart attack when I saw where it was next to. Next to his.
Carlos Santiago — Primary Racer
Natasha Hamilton — Mechanical Lead
The words sat there like a challenge. Or a warning. Or both.
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Carlos muttered nearby.
His sharp jaw tightened just slightly as he read the screen, his posture shifting—not dramatically, but enough for me to notice. He glanced at me again, slower this time, like he was reassessing something he hadn’t expected to matter.
“Looks like you’re stuck with me,” I said, my tone even, but not apologetic.
“I don’t get stuck,” he replied coolly. “I adjust.”
“Good,” I shot back. “Then you won’t have a problem.”
“Positions,” the instructor called. “Let’s see what you can actually do.”
But working beside Carlos Santiago was… a mistake.
Not because I couldn’t keep up. But because I noticed everything.
The way he moved—precise, efficient, no wasted motion. The way he didn’t hesitate when making decisions, even under pressure. The way his focus locked in so completely that the rest of the world seemed to disappear for him.
It was annoyingly impressive. And him being so damn hot and attractive in a racer uniform added a bit of distraction for me.
“Torque setting’s off,” I said, reaching toward the adjustment panel.
His hand moved at the same time. Our fingers brushed. It wasn’t dramatic and just barely a second. But it was enough for my breath to catch slightly. Enough for him to pause.
We both pulled back almost instantly.
Then he turned back to the engine, like nothing had happened. But something had because I could feel it.
The first real test came faster than expected. Mid-practice. Mid-run. And the engine stuttered. Not a full failure, but close enough to matter.
“Damn it,” Carlos muttered, pulling back slightly. “That shouldn’t—”
“I know,” I cut in, already moving. I didn’t think and didn’t hesitate. I just acted. Because that sound—that specific hitch buried under the rhythm—I knew it.
I’d heard it before. Different car. Same problem.
“Give me ten seconds,” I said quickly, sliding into position before he could argue.
I reached in, adjusting the intake valve with quick, precise movements, my fingers moving on instinct more than calculation. The noise sharpened, then dipped, then—
Leveled. Smooth. Clean. Right.
I exhaled slowly, pulling back. “Try it now.”
He didn’t question it, he didn’t even second-guess and just ran the test again. The engine responded instantly.
Perfect.
Silence fell around us—not complete, but noticeable. People had seen, but Carlos didn’t say anything at first. He just watched the system, eyes narrowing slightly as he processed what had just happened.
Then, slowly, he looked at me. Something in his expression had shifted again. Not softened. But… changed.
“You’ve done that before?” he asked.
“Yeah.”
“Where?”
I hesitated for a second. “Does it matter?”
His gaze held mine. Longer this time. “Maybe.”
I shrugged lightly, wiping my hands on a cloth. “It worked. That’s what matters.”
Carlos looked at me as if reading something in my eyes. “Your surname suits you then,” he commented. “Hamilton.”
My breath caught in my throat. “I-I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Carlos smirked. “Of course, you don’t. It’s impossible you’re related to that guy,” he said in an insulting tone before turning away from me.
I haven’t even recovered yet from that remark when a voice called me by my surname.
“Hey, Hamilton.”
But the voice sounded different this time. It was lighter. I turned slightly and saw a man with a beautiful smile and he was looking at me like he already knew me.
“Nice save back there,” he said, stepping closer with an easy smile that didn’t feel forced or calculated. “Most people would’ve panicked.”
I blinked once, thrown off by the sudden shift in tone. “…I didn’t have time to,” I admitted.
He laughed softly. “Fair.”
He extended a hand. “Luigi Green.”
I glanced at it for a second before taking it. “Tasha.”
His grip was warm and steady. “First day?” he asked.
“Is it that obvious?”
“Only because everyone’s already talking about you,” he said lightly.
I exhaled quietly. “Great.”
“Don’t worry,” he added quickly. “It’s not a bad thing.”
Behind him, I saw movement.
Carlos. Watching us like we’re under a microscope.
Luigi followed my gaze, glancing back briefly before returning his attention to me. "Good luck with your partner.”
I almost laughed. “Yeah. I’m starting to think I’ll need it.”
“Hey, Luigi.” Carlos’s voice cut in—this time sharper. “Don’t distract my partner.”
The word landed heavier than it should have. My partner.
Luigi didn’t seem bothered. If anything, his smile widened slightly. “Wasn’t distracting,” he said easily. “Just talking.”
“Do it somewhere else,” he answered, the tension snapped tight in his voice. “We’re busy here.”
I glanced between them, something shifting uneasily in my chest.
“Relax,” Luigi said, still calm. “We’re all on the same team here.”
“Not really,” Carlos replied flatly.
That did it.
Something sparked—low and dangerous.
“Wow, already gatekeeping the newbie, huh?” Luigi said then winked at me.
“Alright, that’s enough,” the instructor cut in before it could escalate further. “Save the competition for the track.”
Carlos stepped back slightly, but his gaze lingered on Luigi for a second longer than necessary before shifting back to me.
“You, go back to work,” he said to me with a scowl as if I had ruined his day.
By the time the session ended, most people had already started clearing out. But I stayed where I was, finishing up the last adjustments.
“You’re not as bad as I thought.” Carlos’s voice came from behind me. Closer than expected. I stilled. Then turned slightly.
Carlos stood a few feet away, hands resting loosely at his sides, his expression unreadable—but not dismissive.
Not this time.
“High praise,” I said lightly.
He huffed a quiet breath—almost a laugh, but not quite. “Don’t get used to it.”
“I won’t.”
“You’ve got good instincts,” he added after a moment, his voice lower now. “But instincts don’t win races.”
I tilted my head.
“No,” I agreed. “But they keep engines from failing.”
He stepped closer. Close enough that I could feel the shift in the air again—that same tension from earlier, but heavier now. More aware. More dangerous.
“You still need to prove you can keep up,” he added, locking eyes with mine.
I didn’t move. Didn’t step back. For a second, everything stilled.
And then—
Someone bumped into him from behind. Hard enough to throw him off balance. And stumbled forward straight into me. My breath caught and then—
His lips brushed mine.
It wasn’t soft. It was sudden. Accidental. My mind went blank for half a second.
Then he pulled back immediately, eyes wide for the briefest moment before something else took over—something sharper. Harder.
I didn’t say anything. I couldn’t. Because I saw them, the people across the room and Bianca Laurent. All of them saw what happened.
Carlos straightened, his expression snapping back into something controlled—but his eyes… His eyes weren’t steady.
“Stay out of my way,” he said, his voice tight—angrier than it should’ve been.
But the way he was looking at me? It didn’t feel like a warning.