𝗻𝗼 𝗰𝗼𝗻𝘁𝗿𝗼𝗹 ━━━━ oscar piastri

02. it's lights out and away we go

Lando is sprawled out across the couch in his driver room, leaving Cherry to perch awkwardly in the desk chair at his side. She's hit with the thought that to an outsider she would look more like his therapist than his girlfriend. Truthfully, she feels most like his babysitter.

"It's that time again," he announces, leaning down to pull a folder out from under the couch. "It's like we're on Mr & Mrs or something."

Cherry's lips twitch upward. "I guess so. Have you been revising?"

"Every week, just like we agreed. I feel like I'm back at school."

"I'm surprised you remember that feeling," Cherry teases, pointing down to the significantly thicker binder resting on her own lap, "it says here you didn't even stay there long enough to sit your GCSEs."

Lando puffs his chest, smirking. "Why bother with all that when I knew I was gonna be a star?"

"I'm surprised your head can even fit into your helmet with how big it is."

Lando tosses one of the couch cushions at her, revelling in his victory when it hits her square in the face.

"Real mature, Lando."

"You know," he muses, "you should call me Lan when we're in public, by the way; most of my friends do. Or you could come up with your own pet name for me — something flattering, obviously, that showcases my manliness."

"I can think of a few things I'd like to call you," Cherry mutters. "Lan will do, noted."

"God, you're no fun," he huffs but his tone is playful enough that she knows he's messing with her. "We've been meeting once a week for six whole weeks now, lighten up a bit."

It's true. Ever since that fever dream of a meeting at McLaren HQ when this whole mess had started, Cherry and Lando had been forced to meet once a week to get to know each other and bond. It has been an interesting experience to say the least. This is the first time they have been left without supervision, though. Usually some poor McLaren employee is assigned to watch over them, but apparently all official personnel are busy now, running around preparing for this weekend's season opener.

"I'm just treating this like community service," she retorts, "because clearly I sinned horribly in a past life to have ended up here."

Lando snorts. "And they said romance was dead."

The door opens at that moment, cutting off Cherry's response — which is probably for the best, really, considering they're supposed to be trying to get along better. Oscar hovers awkwardly in the doorway but is quickly passed by Max Fewtrell, who swans into the cramped room like it's his name on the door.

"Ah, if it isn't my two favourite lovebirds," Max trills, pushing Lando's feet aside so he can take a seat. "Larry? Chando? What's the sitch here?"

Cherry scowls. "There is no sitch," she denies. "You're having too much fun with this."

"It's not every day your best mate grows up and gets a serious girlfriend," Max replies, pinching Lando's cheeks. "Even if it is some weird PR stunt."

"That's the only way he's getting a girlfriend," Oscar chimes in, leaning against the door.

Lando makes a strangled sound, pointing between the two other men with an expression of great betrayal. "I can't believe you two! The whole reason we're in this mess is because I'm like a magnet for girls."

"You just can't seem to keep them in your pull for longer than a night," Cherry points out.

The trio of men snicker, with Lando making some lewd remark about how a night is all he needs. It's in that moment that Cherry truly realises that she's surrounded by idiots.