Tangled in Trophies- Lando Norris

8. Mirrors

The sunlight in Monaco was blinding, glinting off the rows of sports cars parked outside Lando's apartment as he stepped out for a quick coffee run. Monaco was a mix of luxury and routine for him—lavish in its beauty, but the familiar pull of normalcy helped keep him grounded. He tightened the baseball cap on his head and threw on sunglasses before slipping down the quieter side street next to his apartment, away from the flashes of tourist cameras and fans who might recognize him.

His plan was simple. Grab a coffee. Hit the gym. Catch a flight to London in the evening. As he walked, he checked his phone, half-expecting—maybe hoping—for a notification, but the screen was blank. He tried not to think about the message he'd sent Evangeline a few days before. She'd replied simply, leaving him without much else to go on. He sighed, pushing the thought aside, before heading down the street to a coffee shop near his apartment.

Meanwhile, across the Channel in London, Evangeline was jogging her usual route through a local park. The crisp autumn air whipped at her face, and her playlist pumped in her ears as she tried to focus solely on her breathing, the rhythm of her shoes hitting the pavement. She'd always liked the solitary nature of running. Out here, there was no pressure, no judging eyes, just her and the sound of the city waking up around her. She debated taking the car out for a morning drive before her gym session of the day but recently she had noticed the car had become more easily recognised, after all who wouldn't notice a wine red Ferrari 330 GTC. The car had been Evangeline's first big purchase after going big in tennis, she had never had fancy car money before and could've had any car she wanted. But her mother's desire for a 330 GTC overtook any urge Evangeline had for a car that wasn't a Ferrari. And so she now drove the the 1968 car nearly everywhere...if it was a reasonable distance. Long distance travel was not the best for such an antique.

Finishing her loop, she checked her phone. She'd ignored Clara's texts for a few nights now, hoping for some peace before a busy week of press and interviews, she'd figure out a polite way to handle the messages later. Besides, her thoughts kept circling back to the message from Lando. She hadn't expected him to follow her, much less send a message. She didn't know if he was genuinely interested in connecting or if it was another PR angle. She shrugged off the thought, determined to just go about her day.

Back in Monaco, Lando ducked into his favorite coffee shop, a small place where he was known by his order more than his name. His usual cortado came quickly, and he leaned against the counter, taking a moment to scroll through his feed. As he scrolled, he couldn't help but check Evangeline's profile again. It was so meticulously curated, like her entire image was planned down to the smallest detail. "Grand Slam Champion," her bio said, without a hint of vulnerability. It made him curious. What was she like when the cameras were off? Was she really as untouchable as she seemed?

Finishing his coffee, he headed toward the gym. The training regimen was intense, and he liked it that way. Endurance runs, core strength circuits, neck exercises for race stability—all of it gave him a focus that kept everything else quiet. His trainer was waiting for him, clipboard in hand, ready to push him through every bit of the circuit.

Across London, Evangeline stepped into her gym, taking a minute to switch her playlist to something upbeat before heading to the weights. The place was practically empty at this time of the morning, just the way she liked it. She adjusted her grip on the barbell, feeling the tension in her arms as she lifted. The familiar rhythm of her workout routines felt reassuring, something steady in a world that rarely slowed down.

As she moved through her sets, her mind to Olivia, her best friends since she had moved to England with her dad. Olivia was like family to Evangeline, she didn't know what she would've done if she didn't have her. She would be even more lonely than she was currently, which is extremely hard to achieve. She hadn't told her about the magazine shoot, hadn't mentioned the message from Lando. It wasn't that she wanted to keep secrets; it was more that she didn't know how she'd react. She would most likely think of the interaction positively, but again the interaction was so small it didn't need to be mentioned much. She was going to catch up with the girl for lunch sometime this week anyway, maybe shed mention it then.

A couple of hours later, she sat at a quiet café with her notebook and her coffee, flipping through the schedule for the upcoming season. The crowds were still fresh in her mind, and she could already feel the pressure mounting. She knew it was a ridiculous comparison, but Lando's life seemed easier in some way. She'd been keeping up with his Instagram, catching glimpses of his world—the fast cars, the Monaco lifestyle, the unapologetic thrill he seemed to have for racing. She imagined it would be hard not to be liked in a world like his.

Lando, meanwhile, was packing up his gym bag, mentally ticking off the day's tasks before his flight. Clara had called him twice already, making sure he'd be on time, reminding him of the schedule once he arrived in London. He'd be staying just a few blocks from Clara's office, in the one bedroom apartment he'd bought not long ago. It was close enough for whatever new project she'd cook up next. A collaboration with Evangeline was in the works he knew that, but that was still tentative. She was a powerhouse, no doubt, but he wondered how their worlds would actually mesh if they started working together more. The last shoot was fine—but even he could feel the forced chemistry that Clara seemed intent on turning into some kind of partnership.

He tossed his bag into his car and drove home, catching glimpses of the sea as he wound through Monaco's narrow streets. The thought of going back to London was oddly comforting. He loved Monaco, but London still felt more like home.

As evening fell, Evangeline had showered and settled into her apartment, scrolling through her notifications mindlessly. She noticed a post from a sports blog with a photo of her from the shoot. "More human than I expected," the caption read, and it made her pause. She wanted to ignore it, but she clicked on the comments. Although more positive than usual the comments still held some resentment for the girl, she couldn't help but hope that with more work that would change. .

She was almost startled by a notification popping up—Lando had posted a story from the airport. She clicked it before she could stop herself. Just him, on his way back to London, a quick "Catch you in a bit, UK," with an image of the runway and a little plane emoji. She rolled her eyes a little, but a smile crept in. He was earnest in a way that wasn't quite natural to her, and maybe that's why she found herself wondering what he'd really thought of her at the shoot.

It was late by the time Lando boarded his flight. He slipped into his seat, glancing around, grateful that first class was a little quieter tonight. Before switching his phone to airplane mode, he pulled up Evangeline's profile again, half-joking with himself that he was just "catching up on a colleague." But really, he was just curious. With a small grin, he viewed some of the videos she had posted on her story today of her on the court, shots of her mid-game, powerful and focused, the same intensity he'd seen at the shoot.

As the plane took off, he leaned back, closing his eyes, thinking back to the small interactions they'd had. He wasn't sure what to make of her yet, but he was looking forward to finding out.