falling for your enemy II Lando Norris

6. forget it

Lando's POV

I open my eyes slowly, immediately squinting as sunlight pours through the open blinds. With a groan, I reach for my phone on the bedside table.

8:15 am. Great. Time to get up.

Sitting up, I lean against the headboard, feeling the lingering grogginess as I glance to my right. And there he is—still asleep, still naked, and completely uncovered by the blankets. I stare for a second too long at his bare back and his peachy ass.

Shit.

No.

I close my eyes, silently praying that this was just a dream. But when I lift the blanket on my side of the bed and see that I'm very much naked too, reality crashes in. This was not a dream. I am so, so screwed.

I nearly leap out of bed, stumbling over to my suitcase and throwing on the first clothes I grab—jeans and an old hoodie. Perfectly ordinary. Exactly what I need right now. I catch myself in the mirror, hastily combing a hand through my hair, still keenly aware of Ashton passed out on the bed. If he so much as hints at what happened, I swear I'm going to start throwing some hands.

Alright, I'm not actually going to punch him. But the thought crosses my mind, just as a defense mechanism.

While brushing my teeth, I freeze, spotting a mark in the mirror—right on my neck. A big, purplish-red hickey, peeking out below my jawline. There's no way I can cover this up.

Stupid bastard. Who does he think he is? I finish up quickly, throw one last glance at Ashton (still blissfully asleep), grab my keycard, and slip out of the room.

Oscar's room isn't far. He's my best bet; Carlos would ask a million questions, so I avoid him. I knock on Oscar's door a bit harder than necessary, probably more than a bit dramatic, but I'm past caring.

Oscar answers a few seconds later, looking at me with a raised eyebrow.

"What's going on with you?" he asks, slinging his backpack over his shoulder as he steps out.

"Nothing," I mutter, brushing it off.

He narrows his eyes. "You're half an hour early."

"Says the one who was dressed and ready the second I knocked."

He shrugs. "I like being prepared."

"I do too," I say, a little too defensively.

He smirks. "No, you don't."

We reach the elevator in silence, but once we're in, Oscar looks at me again, eyes zeroing in on my neck. He raises an eyebrow. "What's that from?"

Damn it, Oscar. Thought you weren't the type to ask questions.

My mind races for an excuse, but I'm not about to tell him it's from Ashton. And saying it's from that random girl - still don't know her name - would probably get me in deeper trouble, considering I didn't exactly sort out an NDA. I just stay quiet, hoping that'll be enough. Luckily, Oscar doesn't press further, letting the silence settle again. Thank you, Oscar.

Ashton's POV

I start stretching out my body and slowly open my eyes, the morning sunlight making it impossible to ignore. I mindlessly let my arm search the other side of the bed, and when I realize it's empty, I turn my head to face it.

Oh.

He probably had an early meeting. Good morning to you too, Lando. Guess he didn't bother waking me. 

I pick up my phone. 8:45 a.m. Right, time to get up—I'm supposed to be at the track by 9 a.m.

I climb out of bed, pull on some clothes quickly, make a half-assed attempt at brushing my teeth and fixing my hair, and leave the hotel room. I'm wearing jeans this time, thank you. Nothing to overthink about last night—I'll see him at the track anyway.