⊹★⋆💋｡°⋆✮🏎️✮⊹★🏁⋆｡ °⋆
Zoe groaned as the sound of her phone ringing sliced through her throbbing head. She fumbled blindly on the nightstand, her hand knocking over a glass of water before she finally grabbed the buzzing device. Without checking who it was, she answered with a raspy, barely-there voice.
"Hello?"
"Zoe Merritt, if you don't get up right now, you're going to miss your flight," came Shira's voice, sharp and filled with authority.
Zoe winced, both at the volume and at the reminder. She cracked one eye open, squinting at the harsh sunlight streaming through the curtains. "What time is it?" she mumbled, her voice hoarse.
"Eleven. AM," Shira emphasized. "Your flight to Portugal leaves in three hours. Please tell me you packed last night."
Zoe groaned again, dragging herself into a sitting position. The room spun slightly, and she immediately regretted every shot she'd taken the night before. "Define packed," she muttered, looking around the room at the half-empty suitcase lying on the floor, surrounded by a chaotic mess of clothes, shoes, and toiletries.
Shira let out an exaggerated sigh on the other end of the line. "You're unbelievable. Do you need me to book another flight for you? Or maybe a personal assistant who knows how to pack?"
"No, no," Zoe said quickly, swinging her legs over the edge of the bed and immediately regretting it. "I'll make it. I just... need to shower, pack, and maybe... survive this hangover."
Shira's tone softened, a touch of amusement creeping into her voice. "You must've had a good night, then."
"Lando won his race," Zoe said, rubbing her temples. "We went out to celebrate..."
"That explains the hangover," Shira said, chuckling. "But seriously, Zoe, get moving. You have fans waiting for you in Portugal, and you can't miss this flight."
"Yeah, yeah, I'm going," Zoe replied, slowly pushing herself off the bed and grabbing the nearest bottle of water.
"Good. Call me when you're at the airport so I know you made it," Shira added before hanging up.
Zoe tossed the phone onto the bed, dragging herself toward the bathroom. Her head pounded with every step, but she forced herself to move. The clock was ticking, and as much as she wanted to crawl back under the covers, there was no way she'd let herself miss her next show.
"This is why I don't party like that anymore," she muttered to herself, turning on the shower. "Never again... at least not until the next celebration."
Zoe let the hot water cascade over her, trying to wash away the remnants of the previous night. Her head still throbbed, and her legs felt like jelly, but the shower helped. It always did. She stood there longer than she should have, letting the steam clear her foggy brain, before forcing herself to get out and face the chaos of packing.
With a towel wrapped around her, she stared at the mess in her room. Clothes were scattered everywhere, some from her hurried unpacking when she arrived, others from trying to find the "perfect" outfit for last night.
"Alright, Zoe, focus," she mumbled, grabbing her suitcase and starting to toss things in haphazardly.
As she stuffed in her essentials, her phone buzzed again on the bed. She grabbed it, half expecting it to be Shira checking in again. Instead, it was a text from Lando.
landoooo⁴
landoooo⁴
how's the hangover treating you?
YOU ARE READING
The Finish Line Kiss - Lando Norris
Fanfiction"Is this really how you want to act?" "At this point I don't even know how to act anymore" A story where the friendship between a superstar and a formula 1 driver can easily break by the most stupid reasons. An up and down situation from getting che...
