Thanks to Norris

part 70- In bed

Rain tapped softly against the windows of your flat, the familiar gray London sky doing its best to help you forget Zandvoort. You were curled up on the couch, hoodie half-zipped, hair still damp from a rushed shower, your phone buzzing relentlessly beside you.

Josi padded in from the kitchen with a mug in hand, raising an eyebrow. "You've been doom-scrolling for an hour."

You didn't look up. "I'm not doom-scrolling. I'm... controlling the narrative."

She plopped down beside you, giving your knee a nudge. "Sure. And totally not rereading the comments on your interview with Lando."

You finally looked up at her with a weak glare. "It wasn't that bad."

She snorted. "You said, 'Maybe I like chasing you.' On camera. With the kind of look that belongs in a romcom trailer. You basically confessed in 4K."

You opened your mouth to respond — and the front door swung open.

Max Fewtrell strolled in without knocking, already holding a half-eaten sandwich and dripping rain onto your floor.

"Hi to you too," you muttered.

"Nice to see my key still works," he said cheerily, kicking off his shoes and heading straight for the fridge. "Your interview's going viral, by the way. Netflix is about to offer you a limited series."

You groaned and buried your face in a cushion. "Kill me."

Max flopped into the armchair across from you, grinning like he knew exactly what he was doing. "I mean, if you were going for subtle, you absolutely failed."

You sat up, glare sharp. "It was just banter."

He smirked. "Sure. Just like the 'accidental' club photo was just good lighting."

Josi leaned her head against the back of the couch, sipping her tea smugly. "He's not wrong."

You pointed at Max. "Aren't you supposed to be his best friend?"

"I am," Max replied, far too casually. "Which is exactly why I know that you two are completely, disgustingly, hopelessly in love and would rather set yourselves on fire than admit it."

You blinked. "We're not—"

"Spare me," Max interrupted, waving his sandwich like a gavel. "I've known Lando for years. That boy would fight a bear for you but god forbid he send a normal text."

You mumbled, "He texted me last night."

Max raised both eyebrows. "And?"

You tossed your phone onto the coffee table.

Josi grabbed it faster than you could protest. She opened your messages. Read aloud: "'Did you make it back okay?'"
She paused. "...With a heart emoji."

You snatched your phone back. "He was being nice."

Max gave you a look. "He was being soft. There's a difference."

There was a pause. The rain outside deepened, and for a second it felt like the whole room was holding its breath.

Then Max leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "Why do you both act like it's war when you're not even mad?"

You stared at him. "Because it's easier."

He nodded, not unkindly. "Yeah. Until it's not."

Josi stood, grabbing her empty mug. "I'm gonna go shower. Let me know if one of you finally admits it so I can throw confetti."

She disappeared down the hall, leaving you and Max alone.

You picked at the sleeve of your hoodie. "He's your best friend. You really think he...?"