GIMME!GIMME! | Lando Norris

Fourteen ✨

That morning, it took forever for Isabela to finally manage to get out of bed and somehow make herself look presentable. Because of that, they ended up skipping breakfast. Instead, Lando ordered takeout—some greasy McDonald's chicken nuggets, fries, and a very large Coke—and after she had eaten her glorified brunch, he took her home.

Isabela was glad that Lando hadn't pressed the matter of why she had decided to take a wild card and get completely hammered last night. In all honesty, she really didn't want to explain to him that what broke her wasn't the mean comments but the realization that she had foolishly started to believe the idea that there was a slight chance they could upgrade their relationship status.

The low hum of the engine filled the silence as they drove along the winding roads, the golden hour light casting a soft glow over the landscape. Isabela leaned back in the passenger seat, her fingers idly playing with the hem of her sleeve as she stole glances at him.

"Lando, crazy question," she said, breaking the quiet. "But would you ever let me drive one of your cars?"

Lando shot her a sidelong glance, his lips quirking into a teasing grin. "Considering your last car was totaled, that's gotta be a hard no."

"That's not fair! You know it wasn't me," she shot back, her tone playful. "Besides, that's rich coming from someone who's had his fair share of questionable turns on track."

He laughed, the sound warm and genuine. "Driving on a track is different from handing over the keys to my baby." He patted the steering wheel affectionately.

"Your baby?" she repeated, rolling her eyes. "You sound like one of those guys who names his car."

Lando's grin widened. "Maybe I have. Would you like to meet her formally?"

Isabela laughed, shaking her head. "I'm serious, though. What's the worst that could happen? I crash it into a lamppost and owe you my soul for the rest of my life?"

"Exactly," he said, mock solemn.

She huffed, crossing her arms. "Fine. I guess I'll just stay here as your permanent passenger princess."

"Passenger princess, huh?" he mused, his eyes twinkling. "I didn't know you were into that role."

"Not much of a choice, is there?" she quipped. "Besides, it has its perks—good views, no responsibility, and the occasional control over the playlist."

Lando chuckled, nodding. "Fair enough. It's not a bad gig. Though, if we're being honest, I think you'd be a terrible passenger princess."

"Why?" she asked, feigning offense.

"Because you'd spend the whole time judging my driving and giving unsolicited advice," he said, throwing her a smirk.

She gasped, clutching her chest dramatically. "I would never! ...Okay, maybe a little. But only because I care."

"Yeah, yeah," he teased. "Keep telling yourself that."

The conversation lulled for a moment, the comfortable silence returning as they drove. Isabela turned her gaze out the window, watching the scenery blur past, before speaking again.

"Do you ever feel like..." she started, then hesitated, her fingers tightening around the seatbelt.

Lando glanced at her, his brow furrowing slightly. "Feel like what?"

"Like... something's missing," she said quietly.

He didn't answer right away, his fingers drumming agains the steering wheel. When he finally spoke, his voice was softer, more introspective. "All the time."

Isabela looked at him, surprised by his honesty. "Really?"

"Yeah, I mean, besides having the job of my dreams, there's nothing more going on for me," he admitted, his eyes moving to take a brief look at her. "And that's great, but sometimes, it feels... hollow. Like there's this big, empty space I can't quite fill."

She nodded. "I get that. It's hard, isn't it? Feeling like you're always chasing something you can't quite reach."

Lando glanced at her again, his expression softening. "Exactly. And sometimes, I think about what it would be like to have someone to share it all with. Not just the highs, but the quiet moments too. Someone who sees me—not the driver or the public figure, but just... me."

Isabela hesitated, the next words forming carefully in her mind. "You ever think you've already found that? Even for a little while?"

His jaw tensed, and she knew she'd struck a nerve. "Maybe. Luiza definitely felt like the one that got away," he admitted. "And then there was Magui. At first, it was just supposed to be a PR thing—a way to keep the media happy, make me look a little more settled, I guess. But... I don't know. Somewhere along the way, it got complicated. We started spending more time together, and it felt... easy. Natural."

Isabela's stomach twisted at the mention of Magui, but she forced herself to listen.

"What happened?" she asked quietly.

Lando sighed. "The media pressure didn't help. Every move we made felt calculated, like we were performing. And eventually, we both realized we didn't know what was real and what wasn't anymore. But even after it ended, we..." He paused, his grip on the wheel tightening. "We still go back to each other sometimes. It's comfortable, I guess. Familiar."

Familiar. The word lingered in the air, heavy like a weight in Isabela's chest. Couldn't he drive the stupid car any faster?

"Do you think you still want it to work with her?" Isabela asked, her voice steadier than she felt.

He hesitated, his gaze flicking to hers before returning to the road. "I don't know. Sometimes, I think I do. But other times, I feel like I'm holding onto it because it's safe. And maybe that's not enough."

Isabela's chest ached at his vulnerability, at the way he seemed so lost despite the life he led. She wanted to be mad, but how could she? After all, they were only friends, and she had asked. "You'll figure it out," she said softly. "You deserve someone who makes you feel like you don't have to question it. Someone who makes everything feel easy, no matter how hard it gets."

Lando glanced at her, his lips twitching into a small, grateful smile. "Thanks," he said quietly.

The rest of the drive passed in a comfortable silence, but unfortunately for Isabela, his words—and confessions—stayed with her long after he left her house. If God gave his hardest battles to his bravest soldiers, she was starting to think she might be Hercules reincarnated. It took everything in her not to jump out of the moving car when he confessed that he somehow still wanted the model back.

Once again, Isabela couldn't help but feel stupid for letting herself believe she was the main character in some romance novel.

The next day, a beautiful, sunny Monday arrived, and Isabela had to admit she wasn't ready for the week ahead. This was the week before the first Grand Prix of the season, and they would all be flying out to Bahrain on Wednesday. The office was chaotic, and Isabela felt severely unprepared, considering she had spent the weekend drunk instead of packing her suitcase.

Opening her emails, she finally realized what Mark's text on Saturday was about. Steve had called for a meeting with the two of them to discuss PR strategies, and there, in big, bold letters, was written: "LANDO NORRIS, PR RELATIONSHIP?"

Was Mercury in retrograde, and someone forgot to tell her? Or was she just stuck in an endless loop of bad luck?