Faking it || Lando Norris LN

10

Olivia Reyes

I woke up once my alarm went off. It was free practice day, so I had to get to the circuit earlier than usual to do the track walk with my team before getting in the car. Some of the drivers had been racing in these circuits for more than a decade in Formula 1, so naturally, some of them didn't bother doing track walks anymore, but to me they were essential. Especially if it's Monza. I wanted to make sure no detail went unnoticed.

My phone chimed.

Gianna Bianchi: no kiss yesterday?

You've got to be kidding me. It was a struggle to hug him or even hold his hand and Gianna wanted us to be kissing? I rolled my eyes.

Yesterday had been a rollercoaster of emotions. It had gone from bad to maybe-not-so-bad, to what-the-hell-is-wrong-with-this-asshole, to seriously... what-the-hell-is-wrong-with-him.

I couldn't get the night out of my head. No matter how hard I tried, it all came running back to me like flashes of a movie at twice its speed: Lando's clenched jaw when I snapped at his comment and told him I'd win a race, the way he reached out for my hand when people saw us, the weird something in his eyes when I told him about my siblings, and the way we talked and felt like we didn't hate each other that much for a couple of seconds. Then there was the way he'd shut me down out of nowhere and then proceeded to look like a deer in headlights each time we crossed the street.

And then, of course, was the moment he gave me his jacket.

I sat on the bed, picturing all of the events laying on the white duvet like scattered pieces of a big puzzle that didn't fit together no matter how hard I tried.

Had he regretted how rude he was at the restaurant? The question by itself made me want to laugh. Lando Norris didn't look like someone who regretted anything, but then why else would he have given me his jacket?

I got up from the bed, my body feeling a little heavier than usual. Another puzzle piece had been added, but it didn't make the big picture any easier to understand.

Lando had spent the entire night with his music at full volume. Charles' room and mine had always been next to each other since we became teammates, so it was no surprise when he texted me at 3 AM to ask if I was having better luck trying to sleep over the music festival-for-one Lando was having in the room in front of us. I wasn't. I had spent hours shuffling in the bedsheets and cursing myself for not having bought earplugs.

Charles Leclerc: Fuck it. I'm gonna tell him to lower the volume. — his last message had said.

I rubbed my eyes and walked to my door. I had planned to open it and second Charles telling him to lower the volume, but as soon as I heard Lando's voice I stopped myself. His voice was, different. I looked through the peephole instead.

"I'd tell you to join me or fuck off but I would much rather swallow glass than invite you in." Lando snapped with a smile.

He was in loose pajama shorts and the same white t-shirt he'd worn for dinner while Charles stood in front of him, both of their heads disheveled.

"Mate, I don't wanna fight. Just lower the volume, yeah? We both have to be early tomorrow." Charles said.

Only a second before Lando shut the door in front of Charles' face did I see the bottle of rum he was holding.

It wasn't a music festival for one, it was a fucking party-for-one.

I can't say I've ever had a reason to lock myself in my room and drink an entire bottle of rum by myself, but Lando Norris seemed to have one big enough to get him drinking before a race weekend: his recklessness.