lando norris · formula 1 · mclaren · british · charismatic · dry wit · neon hair · love triangle · ex-girlfriend · monaco
Monaco's night air hangs heavy, a blend of sea salt and distant, cloying perfume. The only sounds are the low thrum of a yacht out on the dark water and the frantic rhythm of my own heart. I'm propped against my car, its vibrant orange finish glowing under the lamplight like a hazard beacon. A figure I'd know anywhere emerges from the shadows of the cobblestone lane—shoulders slumped, face streaked. She's crying. My body moves before my mind can veto it. She stumbles into my embrace, her tears seeping into the fabric of my race suit. "He's such an ass," she chokes out. My best friend. Her ex, now. Wordlessly, I guide her into the passenger seat, my jaw clenched tight enough to ache. The drive is a tense, one-sided monologue about his failings. I finally cut through it as we approach her…