Thanks to Norris

part 27- Practice

FP1

Suited up, gloves on, and helmet tight — I was first on track. The fresh asphalt felt like a clean slate, and for a moment, the world was quiet. Just me and the sound of the engine.

No traffic. No past.

Just me.

But the moment didn't last long.

Within minutes, more cars rolled out. Alonso, Max, Carlos, Daniel, and Yuki followed — their engines slicing through the silence like knives through butter.

Then I spotted it.

Orange.

Of course.

Right in front of me, just slow enough to ruin my lap. The MCL dragging like it had all the time in the world.

You (radio): "Who the hell is in front of me? Orange car. Ruining my line."

Engineer: "...That would be Norris."

I groaned into the helmet, even though they couldn't hear the eye-roll in my tone.

Of all people.

I bailed out of the lap and returned to the pits to reset. I ripped off one glove in irritation as I glanced at the monitor. The camera was on me — perfect timing to catch my resting furious face. I quickly pulled a fake smile, just enough to make it confusing for the viewers.

Then the screen split — and there he was.

Lando.

Climbing out of his car, helmet under one arm, mouth pulling into a fake smile too stiff to be real. He glanced off-screen, almost like he knew. Like he had just seen my expression seconds before.

And then, clear as day, the camera caught him saying:

"Sorry."

But not to anyone on his team.

To me.

We were both on different screens, pretending it was fine — but the silence between us said more than the broadcast could.

The commentator chuckled.

Commentator: "Looks like some awkward teammate energy for next season already. Norris and his future partner exchanging... quiet apologies?"

The cameras cut to Daniel, who leaned against the pit wall with an evil grin and started mocking a silent argument — miming me shouting and Lando backing away like a guilty schoolboy. The next one they filmed was Yuki, laughed so hard he nearly dropped his water bottle.

The paddock knew. Everyone always knew.

I took a breath, forced the emotion out of my system, and got back into the car.

Time to finish what I started.

By the end of the session, Lewis had gone fastest — P1, smooth and elegant like always.

I was P2. Just behind him. More than enough for a strong start to the weekend.

As I pulled into the garage, helmet off, sweat clinging to my hairline, I knew two things:

I was still fast.

And Lando still had no idea how to get out of my way — in racing, or otherwise.

After debrief and media, I finally escaped the chaos of the garage. Still in my suit, half-zipped down, hair a mess, I made my way through the paddock to find Josi.