Faking it || Lando Norris LN

22

Olivia Reyes

Friday. Spanish Grand Prix.

The rest of the briefing went by smoothly. Everyone in the room was too stunned after Lando's intervention to comment on anything else. Even the race director seemed thrown off.

Daniel, Charles, and I raided the snacks table before leaving the room and making our way through the paddock. We still had our last practice session just a couple of hours away, and we all had to meet up with our teams to get everything in order before suiting up and getting into the car.

Despite my best efforts to shrug off what had happened mere 10 minutes before, I couldn't help but feel my shoulders a little tense. Walking next to me were Charles and Daniel, all of us in the same silence we'd left the room in. 

My eyes were glued to the ground as we walked, my mind spinning whilst trying to put the topic down. Just this morning I had had a pep talk with myself about this same thing, torturing myself with unspoken words and lack of actions.

But almost as if he had been able to read my mind, there it was. Words, and actions. Both of them stared right at me like a blank exam you didn't study for.

"Don't let it throw you off, Reyes. Go get his ass on track." Daniel whispered from my right with a wink and a smile.

I returned his smile. I will — I thought to myself and looked to my left, my eyes searching for Charles' face and meeting his clenched jaw and narrowed eyes glued looking straight forward.

"Earth to Charles?" I joked, but he kept his gaze to the front. My brow furrowed as I looked forward as well, looking for whatever had his undivided —and angered— attention.

Lando. My eyes met Lando's back as he walked a couple of meters in front of us, and then returned them to Charles.

"Charles?"

"Sorry, yes." He raised his brows, snapping out of his mind. "Don't let it throw you off."

"Wow, you're so convincing." Daniel joked.

"Sorry, it's just—" He began, but then interrupted himself with an almost unnoticeable head shake. "Something's not sitting right with me."

My eyes were still on Charles as Daniel stretched his arm behind me and gave him a playful shove.

"Relax, Moni." He chuckled. "It's better if you don't try to predict him."

Charles burst with laughter as they switched topics, joking about the nickname "Moni" that Daniel sometimes used to refer to Charles ever since he found out he was Monegasque and realized there are people actually born in Monaco.

Don't let it throw you off.

My eyes met the ground as Daniel's words echoed inside my head under the noise of their laughter, but quickly shot up before I crashed into someone, or something.

It was Lando's hand, being held out in front of me.

His hand was the first thing I saw, but as my eyes shot up to his face I quickly glanced at the camera a couple of meters in front of us before my face could morph into a confused expression.

Stay focused. Sell the stunt. Drive the car. — I reminded myself once again, just like I had done this morning.

We walked through the circuit and into the paddock, waving at cameras and faking smiles through the infinite distance that separated us from our team lounges. The top teams were always given the best spots in the paddock, meaning McLaren and Ferrari were in front of each other in the most convenient place, but also the furthest from the driver briefings in this case.