They share the same garage. The same color. The same pressure. In the relentless world of Formula 1, everything is measured in tenths of a second - except what grows slowly, quietly, between two teammates. Oscar Piastri thrives on control, precision, and silence. Lando Norris lives through instinct, emotion, and noise. Side by side at McLaren they learn to trust each other on track long before they dare to understand what happens off it. Between Friday practices, tense Saturday qualifying sessions, and unforgiving Sunday races, something unspoken settles in the spaces between them. Shared routines. Lingering glances. Almost-touches that mean too much to be accidental and not enough to be named. As the season unfolds - through victories, failures, pressure from the paddock, and eyes that start to notice - Oscar falls first without realizing it. Lando falls harder while trying not to fall at all. What happens when two people are always next to each other - and nowhere feels safe enough to tell the truth. A slow-burn Formula 1 romance. Hidden. Intimate. Inevitable.

Nous les "Bloods" eux les "Demons". Lui bad boy, moi bad girl. Nous deux ? Nous étions les pires ennemis du monde ! Les enfants de deux chefs de gangs ennemis, si on lui avait demandé ce qu'il pensait de moi, il aurait sûrement dit "Cette meuf a un sacré culot de me défier." Si on m'avait demandé ce que je pensais de lui, j'aurais évidemment répondu "Ce connard ne mérite même pas de vivre." Mais pourtant, tout va se déjouer.