Tangled in Trophies- Lando Norris

37. Matches

The private changing room was quiet, save for the subtle hum of fluorescent lights and the faint rustling of Evangeline's preparation routine. Lando stepped inside, escorted by one of her team members, feeling slightly out of place but intrigued.

Evangeline stood by a small mirror, tying her hair into a sleek ponytail. Her outfit was simple yet striking—an all-black ensemble with an athletic tank top that hugged her toned figure and a pleated skirt that revealed powerful, muscular legs as she moved. The subtle sheen of her skin from her warm-up reflected the dedication she poured into her craft.

For a moment, Lando hesitated. He wasn't sure if it was the atmosphere, her commanding presence, or the way the black outfit contrasted with her complexion, but he felt a sudden, unfamiliar tightness in his chest. She was completely in her element, and it was impossible not to admire her.

When she glanced up, catching his reflection in the mirror, her lips quirked into a small smirk.

"Thought you'd be outside already," she said, turning to face him.

Lando cleared his throat, shifting his weight awkwardly. "Wanted to wish you good luck. Or is that bad luck in tennis?"

Evangeline chuckled softly, pulling a wristband over her hand. "No such thing as jinxes here. Just skill and a lot of sweat."

"Well, good luck, then," he said, his gaze momentarily flickering back to her before quickly looking elsewhere.

Evangeline tilted her head. "You okay? You look like you've seen a ghost."

Lando laughed, trying to shake off his flustered state. "No, just... you look ready to destroy out there. Intense."

Her brow arched. "And you look wildly out of place in my changing room. Don't they have a VIP section for your kind?"

He grinned, leaning casually against the doorframe. "Hey, I'm here on official business. Support duties."

"Support duties," she repeated, skepticism in her tone. "Does that involve cheering obnoxiously and waving a banner?"

"Depends," Lando replied, his grin widening. "Would it distract your opponent?"

Evangeline shook her head, but the faintest smile lingered on her lips. "No banners, Norris. Just sit quietly and try not to embarrass yourself."

"Model spectator, right here," he said, gesturing to himself.

Her eyes softened for a moment as she stepped closer, her voice lowering slightly. "Thanks for coming, though. It's... nice to have someone familiar here."

Lando's grin faltered, replaced by something more genuine. "Wouldn't miss it. Oh, and I brought a plus one."

Evangeline tilted her head. "A plus one?"

"My mum," he admitted with a sheepish smile. "Figured she'd appreciate seeing you play. She's a fan."

Evangeline blinked in surprise, then smiled. It wasn't the polite, reserved smile she often gave in interviews—it was warm, real. "That's sweet. I'll have to play extra well for her, then."

"Trust me, she's already impressed," Lando said, his voice softening as his gaze lingered on her.

A soft knock on the door interrupted the moment, one of her team members stepping in. "Ms. Vittori, we need to escort Mr. Norris to his seat now."

"Showtime," Evangeline said, nodding toward him as she adjusted her racket.

"Knock 'em dead," Lando said, his voice light but his gaze still focused on her as he turned to leave.