Thanks to Norris

part 82- fans

Monday – Flight to Mexico City

The São Paulo haze hadn't even cleared before I was back in the air again.

I sat next to Lewis on the team jet, legs stretched, sunglasses on, pretending we were both resting. But I wasn't. Not really. My body was still buzzing from the race, from the pressure, from the moment Lando looked at me on that podium and didn't say a word — just met my eyes and let it mean everything.

Lewis nudged me with his elbow. "You sure you're okay?"

I nodded. "Yeah. Just... keeping my story straight."

He didn't say anything at first, just tilted his head like he already knew what I wasn't saying. And maybe he did. He was Lewis — he noticed things most people didn't.

"It's weird," I murmured. "Being this close and having to act like he's just... some guy."

Lewis leaned back, arms folded. "He's not just some guy. But you've got a whole year of press strategy ahead of you. Use it. Protect what matters."

I gave a faint smile. "You sound like a team principal."

He grinned. "Well, I've been around long enough to know when to play the game."

⸻

Tuesday – Mercedes Event, Mexico City

It was one of those events where everything sparkled too much — the rooftop, the glasses, the surface smiles. My dress was tailored within an inch of its life. I'd done my makeup like armor. My posture was rehearsed, my answers even more so.

And then he walked in.

Lando.

My heart skipped in a way that had absolutely nothing to do with the altitude.

He looked unfairly good — like he hadn't just done a full race weekend. His hair was still a little messy, windblown in that way I knew was natural but still felt designed to ruin me. He wore a jacket that should've been boring but somehow made him look... sharp. Effortlessly sharp. And the way he moved through the crowd, calm but alert, like he knew exactly where I was without needing to look...

God, I hated that I couldn't even let my eyes linger.

He walked up, just close enough for the cameras to catch us in one frame — future teammates, professional smiles. His voice was casual but I heard the tension underneath.

"Looking forward to next season," he said.

I swallowed the urge to say I already miss you.

Instead: "Yeah. Still a long way to go. We'll see how the chemistry works on track."

Someone snapped a photo. I didn't flinch. I knew better.

A reporter leaned in.
"Thoughts on what kind of teammate Lando will be?"
"Will the dynamic need adjusting?"

I kept my smile easy. "I think we'll both have to wait until next season to see how we work together. Right now, we're still competitors. But I respect him."

I didn't dare look at him.

Because if I did — if I looked at Lando Norris with even a fraction of how I felt about him — they'd all know.

⸻

Later – Behind the Scenes

I slipped out onto a quieter part of the rooftop, trying to breathe. The air was thinner here, or maybe it just felt that way under the weight of the show.

The door creaked behind me.

I didn't have to turn around.

Lando stepped up beside me, hands in his pockets, gaze somewhere out past the skyline.