Mind the Gap

Chapter 22

landonorris: P1 P2 yesterday, P1 P2 today. Congrats on the win Oscar. I know we've got plenty more to come. 

Lando's POV: 

The Hungarian Grand Prix should've been mine. I had the pace, the strategy, and the car—it was all lining up perfectly. But then, 15 laps before the finish, the call came through.

"Let Oscar through."

I couldn't believe it. I had the lead, I had the pace, and yet the team decided to switch us. I held out as long as I could, but with five laps remaining, I finally gave up the lead. Three laps later, I crossed the line in P2. It felt wrong, like the win had been snatched from me.

After the podium and the interviews, I head back to the motorhome, still buzzing with frustration. The celebration's in full swing—McLaren 1-2, and everyone is thrilled. But all I can think about is how I could've been the one at the top. The adrenaline's worn off, replaced by a gnawing sense of disappointment.

Then my phone rings. It's Zak.

I pick up, already knowing where this conversation's going.

"Lando," Zak starts, his voice steady but with an undercurrent of frustration. "I wanted to say this directly. We messed up today. That order shouldn't have come through the way it did."

I exhale, staring out of the window. "Yeah, I figured."

Zak pauses, his tone shifting slightly. "What's done is done. We can't change it now, but we'll be better next time. I know you had the pace, and you deserved to be on the top step, but for today, we have to look at the bigger picture. P1 and P2—it's huge for the Constructors' Championship."

I grit my teeth, understanding what he's saying but still feeling that sting. "I get that, but... I was on course to win. This one felt like it was mine."

"I know, mate," Zak says, a hint of regret in his voice. "And we'll make sure it doesn't happen again. You've got my word on that. But for now, you need to keep your head in the bigger picture. This result was massive for the team, and there's more to come."

I nod, even though he can't see me. "Alright. I get it. I'll move on."

Zak's voice softens. "You did an amazing job out there, Lando. It's not the result you wanted, but it's still a hell of a result for McLaren. We'll come back stronger."

"Thanks, Zak," I say before hanging up. I understand where he's coming from—P2 is still a solid finish, and the Constructors' points are critical. But that doesn't change the fact that I could have won.

Later that evening, the team is hosting a huge celebration for the McLaren 1-2 finish. Everyone's buzzing, drinks are flowing, and it should feel like a massive win. But I'm still replaying the race in my head, still stuck on what could've been.

I haven't checked my phone all day, and I realize I haven't messaged Ana. Between the race and all the chaos, I've barely had a second to catch my breath. I pull out my phone, half expecting to see something from her, but... nothing. That's weird. I shoot her a quick text.

Lando: Today was a shit show, but I miss you. Hope you're doing alright.

I slip my phone back into my pocket, frowning. It's strange not hearing from her, especially on a day like today. Maybe she's just resting. She's had a long week.

I grab a drink and head over to Carlos, who's already deep in conversation with Max about the race.

"Mate, you were flying today," Max says, nodding at me as I approach. "I thought you had that win in the bag."

"Yeah," I mutter, taking a sip of my drink. "So did I."

Carlos raises an eyebrow. "You were quicker than Oscar at the end. Team orders, huh?"

"Yeah, the call came in 15 laps before the end," I say, shaking my head. "I thought I could hold him off, but... team calls are team calls."

Max grimaces. "I saw that. You definitely had the pace. The weather didn't help either—cooler track made it hard to push."

Carlos nods in agreement. "The track cooled off faster than I expected. It made the tires tricky to manage, especially towards the end. But you still kept it together. I was watching your times."

"Thanks," I say, though it feels hollow. "I was pushing, but once the order came through... I just had to play the team game."

Max laughs, shaking his head. "I don't envy that. I get the team strategy, but sometimes... you just want to ignore the call."

I grin, but there's a part of me that knows exactly what he means. "Trust me, I was tempted."

Carlos chimes in, his tone light. "You handled it well, though. Could've been worse—at least we're both not dealing with a DNF in this weather. You managed those conditions like a pro."

"I guess," I reply, still feeling the sting of the lost victory. "But it's not what I wanted. Not today."

Max gives me a sympathetic look. "It happens, mate. You'll get your win soon enough."

As the night progresses, something unexpected happens—Savi, my ex, shows up at the party. We didn't end things well, so seeing her here is the last thing I need. She walks over, congratulating me with an overly friendly smile.

"Lando, P2! That's amazing!" she says, leaning in a bit too close.

"Thanks," I say, trying to keep it casual, but the way she's acting feels off.

Max, still nearby, walks over with a grin. "Back with Savi again, Lando?"

I shake my head quickly. "No, mate. I'm with Ana now."

Max raises an eyebrow, clearly surprised, but doesn't push it further. "Alright, just checking," he says with a smirk before walking away.

Savi doesn't seem to care about the conversation and keeps hanging around, her hand brushing my arm, acting like things are still the same between us. She's touchy, too friendly, and it's starting to get uncomfortable. I pull away subtly, hoping she'll get the hint.

But by the end of the night, Savi's had too much to drink. She's slurring her words and leaning on me for support. "Lando... you're still such a good guy," she mumbles, her head resting against my shoulder.

I sigh, realizing I need to get her home. "Alright, let's get you back to your hotel."

We step outside, and of course, the paparazzi are there, snapping photos of us getting into the same car. Great. I already know how this is going to look.

I drive her to her hotel, making sure she gets inside safely before heading back to my own room. As I sit in the car, my phone buzzes with notifications—photos of me and Savi are already circulating. Just what I needed.

When I get back to my hotel, I quickly send Ana a message, knowing this situation looks worse than it is.

Lando: Just so you know, I had to take Savi home. She got drunk at the party. Paparazzi caught it, but nothing happened. I'll explain when I see you.

I toss my phone onto the bed and lie down, staring at the ceiling. Between the race, the team orders, and now this PR mess, today has been nothing short of chaos.

I need to figure out how to see Ana before Belgium. Maybe I can squeeze in a trip to Spain, or maybe she could come here. I'll work it out tomorrow. For now, I just need sleep.