Redline | L.Norris

nineteen

There was a knock at the door, three rapid bangs followed by a loud "Hellooooooo!" that echoed through the apartment like a warning shot.

Max didn't even look up from the kitchen island. "That's Ricciardo."

Isla blinked. "Why does he sound like he's bringing a camera crew with him?"

"Because he probably is," Lando muttered, already getting up to open the door.

And sure enough, there he was, Daniel Ricciardo, grinning like the cat who stole three whole canaries, wearing sunglasses inside, and holding a bag from the best bakery in Monaco like it was a diplomatic offering.

"THE QUEEN HAS ARRIVED!" he declared, pushing past Lando dramatically to throw his arms around Isla. "Monaco's been far too boring without you."

Isla laughed into the hug, her voice muffled. "You saw me two weeks ago."

"Which in F1 time is basically a decade," he said, pulling back to inspect her like she'd returned from war. "You look good. Like... not about to lose your mind. That's a good sign."

"I've been here for four hours," she deadpanned.

"And the healing has already begun!" Daniel beamed, dropping onto the couch like he lived there. "Max, beer?"

Max called back, barely looking up. "You know where it is."

Daniel got up with an exaggerated groan, moving like he'd been personally victimized by Max's laziness. He opened the fridge, paused, then turned back with a single eyebrow raised. "Wait... is that spinach in here? Who are you and what have you done with Verstappen?"

"I'm evolving," Max said flatly. "I live with a cat now. Things change."

Isla leaned back into the couch, the room buzzing with a chaotic kind of warmth. There were snacks she didn't have to prepare, friends who knew the worst and stayed anyway, and a general lack of expectations. For once, she didn't have to perform. Didn't have to be anything but herself.

Daniel turned to Lando with a faux-serious expression. "And you. You still stalking her around Italy like a loyal retriever?"

Lando, without missing a beat, "Yep. It's working out for me."

Daniel blinked, paused, then grinned slowly. "Damn. Okay. We're entering soft boy territory. I like it."

Max groaned. "This is why I didn't invite you."

Daniel raised his beer in triumph. "And yet, here I am."

***

It was late by the time things finally quieted down.

Max had retreated to his room with the cat (who, despite all odds, adored him), and Daniel had passed out half-on, half-off the guest room bed after claiming he only needed a "quick power nap." The apartment, once buzzing with laughter and bad snack decisions, had finally settled into a gentle hush.

Isla was on the balcony, barefoot, curled into one of the chairs with a blanket draped over her shoulders and a cup of mint tea resting on the armrest. Monaco glittered below, all golden streetlights and the soft reflection of yachts rocking lazily in the marina.

She didn't hear Lando come out until he dropped into the chair beside her, his presence quiet and easy, the way it always was when they weren't surrounded by the rest of the world.

"You okay?" he asked softly, voice low to match the calm.

She nodded slowly, eyes still fixed on the city below. "Yeah. Just... needed a minute."