- "you're not saying you're
in love with me,
but you're going to."
or, the one where the music industry's it girl meets F1's it boy and the media just *has* to make a scene about it
[ lando norris | social media + irl ]
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7 PM. That's when Lando's flight to go home, to Monaco, takes off. It's only 4, and he feels like he's drowning.
The bracelet, the Cartier bracelet he just blew a good eight thousand dollars on just for a stunt, is cold on his wrist still. His is in a shimmering silver, starkly different from the one he bought Bianca, which was in her typical glitzy gold. He was lucky his accidental purchase was a 2-for-the-price-of-1 deal, or else that would have been sixteen thousand down the drain for Mr. Norris. (He's made worse purchases though for stupider reasons, so maybe these bracelets were the least of his worries.)
Ever since they had screwed on their new accessories, Lando has found himself always holding it somehow. Tapping it with his fingernails, covering it with his other hand to feel the cold metal on his palm, sometimes even running a finger over the 'BT' engraving on its front. He does these motions without thinking, but he also does them when he is.
Bianca had left to go grab some snacks for the both of them at a local supermarket, insisting that he stay behind to rest up for his flight. It was a sweet gesture, but he wanted to help her with bringing the food in. Bianca was nothing less than generous ever since he had even mentioned his trip to Los Angeles, and he wanted to pay her back in anyway he could. So he fought, and yet here he was, sitting on the maroon loveseat in her apartment that he remembers seeing in a video of her a few days ago.
He wouldn't say it out loud, but Bianca has power over him—and that's terrifying for him to even think about.
Every major event that has happened to him since the afterparty of the season's finale has been out of his control. The rumor, his manager getting in touch with Bianca's, starting up this publicity stunt in the first place. Sure, he initiated the idea of giving it a shot to her, but he was only doing that because he knew that Angelina and Ethan were right; it would only get worse if they didn't try to make something good out of it.
He has had no control these past few weeks, and the dumbbells attached to his feet are taking him closer and closer to the ocean floor.
Lando has always done things to make sure he's the one in charge. Being in the driver's seat—on a racetrack or not—was one of them. Other things like golf, video games, even DJ-ing gave him the feeling of security and containment. But now? Now he's overthinking everything. How he acts, how he sounds when he talks, what he says. He's lost all power from his usual position.
And yet, the loss of being in charge isn't the thing that's scaring him. It's the fact that he doesn't mind.
With the overthinking, he's also not been thinking at all, especially behind the closed doors and privacy of Bianca's cozy apartment. He hasn't laughed this hard in ages, hasn't been so glad to be so tired. The guest room of her home has begun to take shape just for him, like the door to the room had his name scrawled into it in big bold letters.
