Faking it || Lando Norris LN

62

Lando Norris

A month ago. Monday. Los Angeles.

"Alright, I've got to head out," I dragged a hand over my face as I stood up from the couch and gave the video game controller back to Martin.

We spent most of the night drinking, catching up, sleeping late, and waking up at noon, only to grab another beer and play video games together. We still looked like we'd just woken up, even after an hour or two of yelling in front of the TV.

"You better start showing up to the next few Grand Prix, asshole. I already know half of them align perfectly with your tour, so you better stop by," I smiled and yawned as I stretched his arms to the sky, willing my body back to movement.

"Will do," Martin laughed as he stood from the couch.

I yawned again as I heard knocking on the house door. I was so sleepy I felt like I had a pillow glued to my face.

"Must be Jeffrey," I hugged Martin quickly, excusing myself. "Good to see you mate."

"Likewise," he smiled at me, but he spoke again as I made my way to the door. "And... Lando?"

A new round of knocking hit the door. I raised my brows as I turned back to look at Martin.

"I bet she loves you too," he lets out a warm smile, but my skin erupts in goosebumps, and my body is three seconds away from a fight-or-flight response.

"Too?" I raise my brows, my entire face instantly becoming red with shame. "What are you—"

"You don't think you can hide it from me, do you?" He laughed. "Take care. Say hi to Olivia from me."

I rolled my eyes and shook my head quickly before opening the door. Fuck's sake. This was all still very new to me. The struggle to not bring her up. The constant texting. Her face on my mind all the time. I wanted to punch the smile creeping onto my face.

"Davies?" I furrowed my brows as I stepped out of the house.

"Get in the fucking car," he snapped.

Davies looked like he hadn't slept in days, exactly how he used to look during winter break when he'd had to sneak into parties to drag me out of a fight and back home. Except nothing had happened. My mind was scrambled. I'd just spent the night at Martin's house.

He got inside the car and slammed the door shut loudly.

"What the fuck is up with you?" I began asking once I was inside the car, but he wouldn't answer. He wouldn't even meet my eyes.

"Are you in your fucking period or just batshit crazy?" I snarled.

Still no answer.

I rolled my eyes and pulled up my sweatshirt's hood, bringing it down to cover my eyes as I threw my head back against the seat. Fucking Davies. I closed my eyes, willing to go back to sleep. He wanted to throw a tantrum and have me begging, asking what was wrong? Fuck that. I didn't have enough hours of sleep on me for that shit.

He kept driving, making his way to the place I was renting in LA and whispering shit I wouldn't bother to decipher.

"One. Thing. I asked one. Fucking. Thing. From. You," he enunciated as he pulled into the garage. "I only asked you to keep your goddamn dick inside your pants, and you couldn't even do that."

"The fuck are you talking about?" My eyes snapped open to see him.

"Don't you fucking dare play dumb," Davies snarled as his knuckles went white holding the steering wheel, still refusing to meet my eyes.