Pit Stop [LANDO NORRIS]

20

LANDO

Tonight was different. Tonight, I didn't need the party. I just needed her.

The sheets rustled softly beside me as Avery shifted her position, a lazy smile tugging at her lips in the dim glow of the moonlight filtering through the curtains. We'd been lying here for hours, talking—no agenda, no distractions, just conversation. The kind of conversation where time feels like it stretches and bends, until suddenly you're realizing the hours have slipped by and you wouldn't have it any other way.

For all the time we'd spent together, for all the jokes and the easy banter, I'd never really gotten to know her. Not like this.

"You know," I said, breaking the silence, "I don't think I've ever stayed up this late talking after a race."

Avery glanced over at me, her eyes gleaming in the dark. "You sure? You used to be a party animal. I seem to remember a few nights where you were the last one standing in the club."

I chuckled, rolling over to face her. "Yeah, well, that was back when I thought I needed the party to make me feel... I don't know. Something. I guess I was just chasing the high. Now, I'd rather do this."

She arched an eyebrow, but her voice was soft. "You know, I think that's kind of nice, Lando. It's different."

"Different good, or different bad?" I asked, my fingers tracing an absentminded pattern on the edge of the blanket.

"Different good," she said quickly, her voice low but warm. "It feels... I don't know. It feels real. Like I'm actually getting to know you."

Something in her tone caught my attention, and I met her gaze fully. "Getting to know me?" I repeated, my voice a little quieter now.

She shrugged slightly, propping herself up on one elbow to face me. "Yeah. I mean, I've known you for years, but tonight? Tonight, it feels like I'm really hearing you. And not just the stuff you say to make people laugh or to keep things light. It's like I'm starting to understand what makes you tick."

I swallowed, her words hitting a little harder than I expected. It wasn't that I was hiding things from her, but there were parts of me I kept guarded. I kept the jokes, the easygoing smile, the jokes that made everyone laugh and forget that maybe I wasn't as carefree as I seemed. Avery, though—Avery had this way of cutting through that, peeling away the layers until the real me was exposed. And I hadn't realized just how much I needed that until tonight.

"Maybe it's just... easier to talk when it's just us," I said, my voice softer than usual. "No cameras, no fans, no press. No one waiting for me to be 'on.'"

Avery's lips curved into that familiar smile of hers—the one that made it impossible to feel anything but comfortable in her presence. "I like that you're comfortable here. With me."

I let out a slow breath, leaning back against the pillows. The room was quiet except for the occasional rustle of the sheets as we shifted, but there was a calmness to it that I hadn't known I was craving. It wasn't just the silence; it was the fact that we were together in it. No pressure. No pretense. Just two people talking in the dark, and somehow, that felt like the most real thing I'd experienced all night.

The sky was starting to shift, the deep blue of night lightening into a soft purple, tinged with hints of gold at the horizon. I hadn't realized how much time had passed, but there was something about the air—cool, quiet, like the world was taking a breath before the day fully began.

Avery shifted beside me, her head resting on my shoulder, her hair falling across my chest in loose waves. I could hear the gentle rhythm of her breathing as she remained still, lost in sleep. But I knew she wouldn't stay that way for long.