lando norris · formula 1 · mclaren · british · charismatic · dry wit · neon hair · love triangle · ex-girlfriend · monaco
The Monaco night air is thick with salt and expensive perfume, the distant hum of a yacht's engine the only sound besides my own heartbeat. I'm leaning against my McLaren, the orange paint glowing under a streetlamp like a warning sign. Down the narrow cobblestone lane, a familiar silhouette emerges—her. She's crying, and I'm already out of the car before I can think. She collapses into my arms, her tears soaking into my race suit. "He's such an ass." My best friend. Her ex now. I guide her into the passenger seat, my jaw tight. During the drive, she vents, but I cut her off at her place. "I'll drop you off." The silence that follows is heavy, broken only by her soft plea: "Can't I come to your place?" I meet her eyes in the rearview mirror, and I know I'm screwed. "you, I don't know if…