Pit Stop [LANDO NORRIS]

5

LANDO

Finally made it to the track. The excitement of it all? Yeah, sure, it's there—somewhere beneath the layers of jet lag, sleepless nights, and the endless drone of pre-weekend briefings. I drag myself into the strategy meeting room, and honestly? It feels like walking into a haze. A haze of coffee, tired engineers, and... well, more coffee.

I plop down in one of the chairs, feeling like my body's about to fold in on itself. Eyes are barely open, but I keep glancing around, trying to focus on what everyone's saying. The team's all in their groove, discussing tyre choices, weather forecasts, track conditions, you know, the usual stuff. Somewhere in the back of my head, I hear mention of "Papaya Rules," and that's when I pull myself up a little straighter.

Ah, yeah. Papaya Rules. That's the line we walk when Oscar and I are out there racing together. It's the part where we're allowed to fight for the lead—no restrictions, nothing held back—unless, of course, we touch. No touching. Touching's bad. I think that's the one thing they've drilled into us both at this point. They want us competitive, but they definitely don't want either of us in the wall, or worse in their eyes, taking out the other to forgo points for the team. To be honest, at times, I think they would rather see us in the wall.

I catch Oscar's eye from across the table. He gives me that smirk— the one that says, I'm definitely going to push you hard this weekend. I raise an eyebrow in response, feeling my lips twitch into a grin. We exchange that unspoken "game on" look, the kind that makes the tension between us fun, but also... well, there's always that slight edge of who's going to blink first. Not that either of us will, of course.

Just as I'm about to zone out again, I feel a nudge in my shoulder. It's Avery, shee leans in and whispers with a chuckle, "You awake?"

I blink, giving her a smirk. "Barely, I need more coffee"

Avery laughs softly, then says, "Well, good thing you could finally make it to the meeting. Wouldn't want you missing the crucial details, right?"

I roll my eyes, keeping it playful. "Hey, I'm here, aren't I? Some of us just run on a different schedule."

Avery gives me an amused look, shaking her head and taking a step back to where she was originally stood against the wall and I return my attention back towards Andrea.

As the meeting wraps up and we start filing out, I stretch my arms over my head, trying to shake off the jet lag for good. Oscar catches up to me in the hallway, and we exchange a look again—this time a silent agreement. If this weekend is going to be anything like the last few races, we're going to be pushing each other hard. And with those Papaya Rules? It'll be a lot of fun.

I step out of the strategy meeting, still shaking off that feeling like I've just woken up from a coma. I'm running on fumes right now, and the coffee's not quite kicking in like I need it to.

As I'm walking out the door, I hear footsteps behind me. I glance over my shoulder and spot Avery catching up, a mischievous grin playing on her lips. I've obviously know Avery as long as I've been associated with McLaren, but I never actually know what it is she does in this team. She always just seems to be there. Not that I ever complain, she's smart and I've often overheard her ideas and had people mention some of her suggestions and feedback. I know Zak is keen to have her build into the family business, I'm just not sure as to what. But I like her banter.

"So, how's the hangover from last week's second-place party? Must've been a wild one." She chuckles as she joins me at my side.

I chuckle, though I catch the slight edge in her tone. Something about it feels off, like... I don't know, maybe a bit of jealousy? Not that I'm going to say anything. Avery's always been a bit feisty, and I can't imagine she'd be mad about me finishing P2. Still, I can't help but feel there's a flicker of something underneath the playful teasing.

"Hangover?" I ask, raising an eyebrow. "Please. I wasn't even the one who went out on a bender. You'd have to ask Carlos about that." I give her a playful nudge. "He's the one who spent half the night at the bar."

She laughs, but there's a flicker of something else in her eyes—a mixture of amusement and maybe... a little envy? Hard to say. She shakes her head, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear as she glances away, her voice a little sharper this time.

"Yeah, well, I heard it was a pretty decent celebration. You can't play innocent either with me, I hear you missed your flight because of it."

I snort, suddenly more awake than I was two minutes ago. "What are you, checking up on me? Sure maybe I didn't get on my scheduled flight, but I'm here. That's a win in my books"

She rolls her eyes, but her tone's playful, even if there's still that subtle edge. "Whatever helps you sleep." She nudges me back now, her smirk widening.

I laugh, shaking my head. "I celebrate the right way, thank you. Unlike someone I know, who's probably more into spreadsheets than champagne."

Avery smirks, crossing her arms and giving me a knowing look. "You know, you're really good at deflecting. Not the first time I've noticed."

I shrug, feeling a little smug. "It's a gift, really."

Before she can reply, we hear Zak's voice calling out from behind us, more authoritative than usual.

"Avery! Hey!"

She turns around, clearly a bit startled. Zak's standing a few paces away, looking at her with a raised eyebrow. "I need you to follow me for a minute," he says, tone crisp.

Avery shoots me a look, and I can't quite tell if it's frustration or relief. "Duty calls," she says, rolling her eyes again before heading off in Zak's direction.

I shout after her, "Don't worry, I'll save you a drink for after the race!"

She throws me a half-smile over her shoulder, but there's still something in her expression that lingers—a mix of competitiveness and... something else. I don't know if I'm imagining it, but I can't shake the feeling that maybe, just maybe, there's more behind the banter than she's letting on.

But as she disappears into the distance, I shrug it off. Probably just tired like the rest of us. I glance up at the track, feeling that familiar rush. The race is coming, and it's all going to be about what happens on the asphalt, not off it.