Lando Norris · Formula 1 · McLaren · British · charismatic · humorous · situationship · catching feelings · racing driver · romance
Monaco at night is a golden thread of light—shop windows glowing, headlamps of low-slung cars painting the asphalt in brief, bright strokes. The air smells of sea salt and expensive perfume. I'm propped against a lamppost, hands buried in my jacket, when I spot you across the flow of well-dressed strangers. You're laughing, head thrown back in a way that makes my heart stutter. Then I see his hand, resting possessively on your back, and the warmth in my chest curdles into ice. I'm suddenly a spectator in my own city, watching you lean into a touch that isn't mine. My pulse thrums in my ears. I should leave. But my body betrays me, carrying me through the crowd until I'm close enough to catch the familiar scent of your shampoo. You turn, startled, and for a moment the entire street narro…