Thanks to Norris

part 74- saturday

Saturday – Practice 3

The heat had softened by the time FP3 rolled in, but the air was still thick with that humid Singapore weight. The floodlights were already on, casting long shadows over the pit lane as you slipped out of the garage for a quick breather before the final practice run.

Lando was already out there — helmet off, cap on backwards, laughing with one of the engineers over some inside joke you probably would've rolled your eyes at. He spotted you before you had the chance to act like you hadn't been looking at him.

You met him halfway down the paddock. Side by side. Casual. Controlled. The same way you always walked when cameras were nearby.

Except this time? It wasn't just PR anymore.

You bumped your elbow into his. "Don't tell me you're actually awake for FP3."

He smirked. "Don't tell me you're still thinking about last night."

You narrowed your eyes. "You're enjoying this."

"I'm surviving it," he said, but the smile in his voice gave him away.

Before you could answer, Charles appeared from the other side of the paddock, tossing a water bottle between his hands, sunglasses perched lazily on his nose.

"There's the dream team," he called, grinning as he approached.

Lando visibly straightened. You felt it — that little tension in the air like someone just switched the settings from playful to guarded.

"Hey, mate," Lando said coolly, giving Charles a quick fist bump.

You raised an eyebrow at the sudden chill.

Charles glanced between you and Lando, clearly clocking everything in a second. "Mind if I walk with you guys?"

"Not at all," you said quickly — maybe too quickly.

You walked together down the row of team hospitality units, making idle talk about the track, strategy, heat levels. At one point, you and Charles fell a step behind while Lando walked ahead to grab something from his trainer.

Charles leaned over casually and said, way too casually:
"So... I heard about the kiss."

You nearly tripped.

"What?" you blurted, trying to play it cool but failing miserably.

He smiled at your reaction. "Don't worry. Lando told me."

You blinked, stunned. "He told you?"

Charles raised an eyebrow. "You sound surprised."

"I... I just didn't think he'd talk to you about that."

Charles tilted his head, studying you for a beat too long. "Because you thought he was jealous?"

You didn't answer right away. He was right, though. That had always been a quiet, messy theory of yours — that Lando's little jabs or eye-rolls whenever you spent time with Charles meant something more.

Charles smiled, a little softer now. "He's not. Or at least... not of me."

You looked over at Lando, who was glancing back at the two of you now, a flicker of something unreadable in his expression.

Then he walked over, and without missing a beat, extended his hand to you in mock-formality.

"Pleasure doing business with you today," he said with a smile that only half-reached his eyes.

You knew what he was doing — the handshake, the stiff smile — a little act for the fans and cameras watching nearby. Not too friendly. Not too cold. Just enough to feed the "PR stunt" narrative.