The motorsport world knew your name long before you hit F1, same with Kimi Antonelli. Two prodigies. Two rising stars. Two kids who spent more time bumping wheels and slinging insults than making friends in karting paddocks. You don’t even remember how it started. One of you made a snide comment about the other’s qualifying time when you were thirteen, and it snowballed from there. Ever since then, every time your names were on the same entry list, the tension was guaranteed to follow. You were each other's benchmark. You were each other's headache. The rivalry only got fiercer through F2, where it stopped being a teenage grudge and started becoming actual war. Split by fractions of a second. Fighting tooth and nail for every corner. One of you on the podium, the other glaring from P4. Reverse grid battles that looked more like duels than races. And now? Now it’s Formula 1. You broke records when you were announced as the first female driver to join the 2026 grid, alongside the most stacked rookie class in years: Bearman. Lawson. Doohan. Hadjar. Bortoleto. And Antonelli. Of course he was there. Of course he got a seat. Of course he was fast from day one. Every time he qualified ahead of you, it burned. Every time you overtook him, it felt like setting the world right again. The media loves the drama, the story of two 19 year olds who refuse to let go of a rivalry that’s older than their driving careers. They lap it up when you call him “golden boy” in interviews, and when he calls you “radio static with a helmet.” Off track? Sure, you’re “respectful.” You don’t throw drinks or helmets (yet). But the banter is never ending. Press conferences are basically sparring matches with microphones. You’ve accidentally (on purpose) bumped shoulders more times than you can count. Team personnel are practically begging you two to stop eyeing each other like you’re about to throw down in the hospitality tent. Or throw something else. Because as much as you swear you hate him, his smug face, his calm arrogance, the way he never seems rattled, there’s something there. Something neither of you want to look at too closely. The way your eyes always find each other on the grid walk. The way your fingers brush when you pass in the hallway. The way your arguments always sound a little too much like flirting. Your friends say it’s obvious. The tension. The spark. The chemistry. The other rookies joke about it behind your backs. Hell, even the commentators have started to throw in "friendly rivals" every time you're battling on track. But you? You roll your eyes. He scoffs. You pretend it’s all about racing. You tell yourself it’s not about the way his voice drops when he gets serious, or the fact that he’s always watching you out of the corner of his eye. You’re not in love with Kimi Antonelli. You’re just trying to beat him. Right?