I step into NRGYZR's fitness center and immediately feel like I've walked into a different league.
Gemma and Seb are already warming up.
Near the treadmills stands a man with a clipboard—clean-cut hair, square jaw, the kind of chiseled look that feels engineered. He looks about my age, maybe a year or two older.
He turns toward me, irritation flickering across his face.
Then he actually looks at me. The edge softens. Something else replaces it.
"You must be Liv," he says, extending a hand. "I'm Noel. One of the head physical trainers here."
"Hi—yes. Nice to meet you. I'm so sorry for being late, I—"
He gives a small shrug. "I'm not the one you have to worry about."
His gaze shifts past me, landing on Seb and Gemma.
"I still need to update a few things in the system," he continues. "Why don't you go join them? I'll be over in a minute."
I nod.
I walk toward my new teammates. They're leaning against the equipment, sipping sports drinks, scrolling through their phones like they've been here for hours.
I clear my throat.
"Hey, I'm Liv. I'm looking forward to—"
Seb looks up clearly annoyed.
"I don't know what was going on with your last team," he says flatly, "but this type of shit isn't going to fly here. Even if you're just a reserve driver."
My cheeks tinge pink with embarrassment.
Gemma watches, lips curved slightly, clearly entertained.
Seb rubs his face and exhales sharply, like I'm already exhausting.
I open my mouth to plead my case, but Noel approaches, and my opportunity is gone. He hands each of us a small heart rate monitor.
"Treadmills," he says. "We're starting with sprints."
Thirty seconds all-out. Thirty seconds recovery.
The first round feels fine.
The second—still manageable.
By the fourth round, my calves start burning.
By the sixth, I feel like I can't keep enough air in my lungs.
I risk a glance sideways, and Gemma and Seb look exactly the same as when we started.
Damnit. I'm more out of shape than I realized.
I finish the last sprint barely upright, lungs burning as I grip the treadmill rails. Sweat drips down my spine, my pulse loud in my ears.
Gemma bends forward with her hands on her knees. Seb's breathing is heavier now too—controlled, but strained. So at least I'm not alone.
Noel glances down at his clipboard, comparing heart rates. His mouth tightens slightly.
"Good job, Gemma. Seb," he says, then looks up. "Everyone—grab some water."
As they move toward the coolers, Noel motions me aside.
This can't be good.
"Your overall cardio fitness isn't quite where it needs to be," he says, matter-of-fact. "Nothing alarming, but based on these results, we'll probably add some supplemental conditioning until you're fully where we want you."
I nod, forcing myself not to take it personally.
"Overall, though," he adds, flipping the page, "it's solid. Not surprising. We'll start increasing your training load from here."
"NRGYZR won't risk a driver who can't handle sustained physical demands at high speed," he continues. "Our goal is to build you up quickly, but safely."
"Understood." I say.
As he talks, I catch movement in my peripheral vision.
Seb.
He's watching me, though not long enough to be obvious. Still, I notice. There's something about the sharp line of his jaw, the way his expression always seems caught between brooding focus and maybe something softer underneath.
It's...distracting.
After a short water break, testing resumes. The next few hours blur together—cycling drills, core work, stability exercises. It's grueling, but manageable.
Finally, Noel leads us into the weight room.
"Last test for today," he says. "Squats."
Okay. This, I know.
I step back mentally, assessing. It's been a few weeks, sure—but I've done this plenty of times before.
Seb goes first, then Gemma.
Noel turns to me. "Alright, Liv. What weight do you want?"
"110," I say without hesitation.
He raises an eyebrow. "Gemma just lifted that. Saves me the trouble of changing plates."
He steps aside to wipe down the bar.
As I move toward the rack, Gemma leans in close enough that only I can hear her.
"Trying to match me?" she asks in a sly tone. "Careful—don't hurt yourself trying to be impressive."
I get the sense that she's a bitch.
As I step up to the squat rack, I can feel it—Gemma's attention, Seb's quiet assessment, Noel's watchful stillness. Three sets of eyes, all measuring something different.
I wrap my hands around the bar, set my feet, and breathe.
Then I sink into the first rep.
Smooth. Controlled. No rush.
I keep my core tight, back straight, knees tracking exactly where they should. The weight moves like it's supposed to—challenging, but familiar. Each rep lands clean, precise. No wobble. No hesitation.
Noel's eyebrows lift.
"Very nicely done," he says, glancing down at his clipboard. "That looked almost too easy. You could've added ten pounds."
I exhale slowly, letting the tension bleed out of my shoulders.
Seb crosses his arms, studying me for a moment. Then, almost imperceptibly, he nods. A small smile tugs at the corner of his mouth.
Across the room, Gemma rolls her eyes and takes a long drink from her bottle, irritation written all over her face. She looks away, clearly annoyed that I didn't take the bait.
"Whatever," she mutters.
I step back from the rack, pulse steady, legs still solid beneath me.
Noel wraps things up, and everyone starts packing their bags.
"Liv," he says, glancing up from his clipboard. "Could you stay a minute?"
"Sure."
Gemma's already gone. Seb lingers just long enough to zip his bag loudly before swinging it over his shoulder and heading out without a word.
Noel clears his throat and turns back to me.
"Good work today. Your squat form was solid, especially considering that it's only your first week"
"Thanks," I say. "It's good to know the training's actually paying off."
"I could tell you pushed yourself," he adds. "Hope you're feeling alright after those sets."
I nod. "I am. Tired, but good."
"If you want to tighten up technique or build more consistency, I can put together a plan for you next week."
I glance at him, taking in his wide, muscular frame—not bulky, but clearly earned. He knows exactly what he's doing.
"That'd be great," I say. "Thanks, Noel."
His phone rings before he can say anything else.
"Sorry—gotta take this. I'll see you next session."
"No problem," I say, giving a small wave as I head out.
It isn't until I step into the hallway that the exhaustion really hits. I angle toward the recovery center, already bracing myself for the cold plunge.
***
After a change of clothes, I step into the recovery area, towel draped over my shoulders, and spot Seb already in one of the cold plunge tubs.
His body is fully submerged, head tilted back against the edge, ignoring the world.
With his eyes still closed, Seb lifts a hand to rub his face, then runs it through his hair, leaving some of the strands slightly damp.
He inhales deeply, letting out a slow sigh that makes you wonder what is weighing on him.
I proceed to walk over to the open tub beside him and sit on the edge, placing my hand in the water to check the temperature.
Seb opens one eye, glancing at me with a hint of surprise before relaxing back into the water and saying nothing.
Water gently laps around him as he sits upright, his broad chest and shoulders exposed to the cool air.
Meanwhile, the water in my tub has reached the optimal temperature. I lower myself in, the ice-cold shock stealing my breath.
It feels like I'm sitting in a needlestack.
I let out a strained exhale, fighting the urge to jump right back out. The room goes quiet, broken only by the soft movement of water.
Finally, Seb's voice breaks the silence.
"I'm sorry about earlier today. I shouldn't have spoken to you like that." His tone carries a mix of lingering frustration and honesty.
"It's fine," I say.
He goes quiet again, and I get the sense he wouldn't mind a small distraction from his own thoughts.
"Beatrice told me that you mentor some of the junior drivers."
Seb lets out a low chuckle, flashing a smile that shows the whites of his teeth. It's the first time I've seen him be anything but serious. He rubs the back of his neck, the motion casual but somehow magnetic.
"Yeah," he sighs. "I've been trying to keep a lower profile lately. Racing for NRGYZR and mentoring the younger drivers in the youth program has been a nice distraction for me."
An alarm buzzes from his phone. He shifts, stepping out of the tub, wearing only briefs. The view is striking. He has defined arms, broad shoulders, smooth chest, and abs leading to a tapered waist.
The second he turns around I notice a faint scar running from the base of his neck down toward his shoulder blade. Oddly, the scar seems to suit him, like it tells a story on his otherwise flawless, toned back.
I catch myself biting my lower lip but manage to snap out of it before he notices.
Seb pivots to face me, patting himself down with a towel. Then, he meets my gaze with a half-smile on his lips.
"See you tomorrow then..." he says. "Liv," he adds, as if sealing the moment with a quiet promise.