Thanks to Norris

part 69- clubbing

Later that night I went to the club where all the other drivers were. I drink alot and had fun. Until I couldnt walk straight so I went to my hotel.

The hotel hallway was dim, quiet, and a little too clean for how messy the night had been. Your body still buzzed from the club — the music, the lights, the champagne someone had poured directly onto your head — and your voice was hoarse from laughing and yelling over the noise.

You were half-wrestling your room key out of your back pocket when you heard footsteps behind you.

"You really can't go five minutes without making it dramatic, huh?"
Lando's voice — low, tired, but laced with that familiar teasing — slid down the hallway like static heat.

You turned slowly, still smiling from whatever bad decision you'd just made downstairs. "Says the guy who told three different journalists he 'got robbed' today."

He stopped just a couple feet away, arms crossed, a crooked grin playing on his lips. His curls were damp with sweat, shirt half untucked from where someone must've grabbed him on the dance floor. He looked good. Annoyed, but good.

"I said I got pushed," he corrected. "Into gravel. By you."

You leaned against your doorframe, lazily twirling your keycard between your fingers. "You left the door open in the last corner. I just... walked through it."

"You shoved through it."

You tilted your head, eyes glinting. "You're mad because I beat you, or because you didn't see it coming?"

He rolled his eyes, but the grin didn't fade. "I saw it coming. I just didn't think you'd actually do it."

You smirked. "Thought I was nicer than that?"

"I know you're not nicer than that." He stepped a little closer. "But PR keeps telling me you are, so I'm legally obligated to play along."

You both laughed, too loudly for the hallway. And then the laughter softened into a charged pause — one of those moments that hovered just on the edge of something else.

You broke it, voice low and a little smug. "You still posted that congratulatory story, though. Even tagged me."

Lando groaned and dragged a hand down his face. "Yeah, well. I got yelled at. Apparently 'I hate them' isn't a brand-safe caption."

You moved closer now, enough that you could smell his cologne through the remnants of club smoke and track grit. "So... the applause was fake?"

He held your gaze. "I never said that."

Another pause. This one heavier. Slower.

You gave him a soft, knowing smile. "You looked good chasing me today."

His smile faded into something softer. "You looked better getting away."

For a second, neither of you said anything. You could feel the tension stretching thin between you — playful, electric, and laced with all the things neither of you would say out loud.

Then he glanced at your door. "You gonna invite me in just to gloat properly?"

You raised an eyebrow. "Wouldn't want PR to think we actually get along."

He smirked, tongue pressed to the inside of his cheek, then turned like he was going to walk away. But just before he did, he leaned in, lips brushing near your ear.

"I still want that apology," he murmured. "But I'd settle for you admitting you missed me on the podium."

You bit back a smile, breath catching in your throat as he pulled away and walked down the hallway.