Thanks to Norris

part 61- media

The rest of media day rolled on in a blur of cameras, interviews, flashbulbs, and back-to-back questions—some scripted, others designed to catch us off guard. But after that first sit-down with Lewis and Lando, nothing could really shake me. The energy from it still clung to my skin like static.

Every time I passed Lando in the media zone—sometimes a flash of curly hair just beyond a divider, sometimes standing just a few meters away talking to his team—there was this pull. Subtle. But real.

We didn't speak again directly during the sessions, but there were glances. Shared smiles. That kind of unspoken awareness you try not to let cameras catch, even though they always do.

At one point, I was pulled for a short solo interview with a UK outlet. As I sat down and clipped the mic to my jacket, the producer leaned in and whispered with a grin, "You and Lando really gave us gold earlier. Socials are already eating it up."

I just smiled and kept it professional.

The interviewer started in the usual way—questions about Spa, the track, my mindset, the car. I handled them easily. But then came the curveball:

"You've been paired with some incredible teammates—current and future."
Cue a cheeky smirk.
"What's it like sharing a paddock with Lewis and Lando?"

I blinked, then smiled slowly. "It's a bit surreal, to be honest. Lewis is the legend we all grew up watching. Lando's... well, let's just say I know I'll never have a boring day when he's around."

Laughter from behind the cameras.

I continued, keeping my tone playful but steady. "Both of them bring something different out of me. Lewis pushes me with his calm, his experience, his precision. And Lando—he keeps me sharp. There's this competitiveness between us that never really turns off. It's annoying... but kind of addicting."

That earned a bigger laugh, and I knew exactly what line they'd clip for social media later.

After the interviews wrapped, I rejoined my team for a short debrief, standing near the back of the hospitality area. From across the way, I saw Lando talking to his comms officer, fingers running through his hair, laughing at something on a phone screen. Probably already scrolling through memes about us from the interview.

Then his eyes met mine—again. Just briefly.

And he smiled.

Not the one he gave cameras. The one that was just for me. The same smile he gave me when I handed him the keys to my gt3. The one from my hotel room the night before.

God, we were obvious.

"Still pretending that's not a thing?" came a voice behind me.

I didn't even have to turn to know it was Lewis again.

"I'm trying," I muttered.

He laughed softly. "Spa's about to get a whole lot more interesting."

And I had a feeling... he was right.

Friday — Free Practice, Spa-Francorchamps

The morning arrived shrouded in a thick gray mist, like Spa wanted to remind us who was in charge. Classic. The track was still damp from the night's drizzle, and the smell of fresh rain on asphalt clung to everything. I pulled my suit on slowly in the garage, methodically, my mind already mapping out every corner—La Source, Eau Rouge, Blanchimont. It never got old.

The engineers were already buzzing, screens glowing, team radios crackling softly in the background. Lewis gave me a fist bump as I passed him on the way to the car, already helmeted up. Always calm. Always locked in. It helped, having him beside me. It kept my own nerves quieter.