Faking it || Lando Norris LN

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Davies had been polishing his skills now that he was no longer Gianna's teammate. It had done wonders. However, his latest outstanding achievement hadn't even been planned by him. Davies had thrown his fist into the air when he heard the news. He couldn't have come up with that idea even if he'd tried.

Lando had moaned someone else's name while fucking supermodel Ava Zwart —Olivia's name, to be precise.

He had immediately tried to take it back, to pretend he was saying something else, but Ava Zwart was very much already heading for the door while screaming a string of insults in a language Lando didn't even understand.

Ava had stormed out of Lando's room so pissed she'd told her best friends —who had, of course, told a couple more people, who then told a couple more. The news hadn't and wouldn't make it to the tabloids because it would place Ava in a less-than-desirable position, but it didn't have to. The story had spread like wildfire among the elite social circles. Famous people always knew the best pieces of gossip were the ones that didn't make it to the headlines.

Davies had seen it as a gift. How could it not be? It had been perfect. You see, Lando's bad boy image had stopped selling at the beginning of the season. Brands and people were tired of it, and so the PR stunt had been the cure. It had manufactured the vision of a picture-perfect, domesticated boyfriend, displaying him like an unbelievable specimen: bad boy gone sweet. However, as the world saw him fall in love with Olivia Reyes, cheat on her, and then start behaving a hundred times worse, the world had a new verdict.

Lando Norris used to be seen as a son of a bitch who enjoyed being an asshole, partying like an imbecile, drinking his brains out, and fuck any pretty girl in his way for the hell of it.

Now, he was seen as the bad boy who couldn't help himself; the bad boy who had no other way; and the bad boy who had tried but failed to break loose from his ways, deeply rooted in himself like a curse running through his veins.

It made him a thousand times more magnetic.

It made people ache to get inside his brain —and underneath his bedsheets.

People had tacitly concluded there had to be something fundamentally wrong with Lando Norris, and they had realized that his reckless, hot-headed, arrogant nature had fallen like a mask in front of them, revealing the tragic nature of a man self-destructively chained to his hedonistic behavior.

No one pitied him.

The world did what it knew best.

Stare with morbid fascination.

Lando Norris was the moth and the flame. Doomed to eventually be prey and victim to his instincts while being the perfect embodiment of the predator chasing him in the meantime.

He was a ticking time bomb, one so magnetic that people couldn't resist but tangle themselves around it and be part of the fun, the mayhem, and the road to rock bottom because they knew damn well it wouldn't blow up on their faces. There would only be one victim —and hundreds of people who had the time of their lives playing hot potato with it.

Davies' chest puffed with pride whenever he thought about how great he'd been handling the situation. He didn't have to pull his hair out, coming up with a way to make Lando the untouchable narcissistic playboy he used to be. Everyone craved him a hundred times more now.

*

"Hello! What's up?" Gianna's voice was loud and upbeat on the other side of the phone.