risk ? lando norris

⭑

𝐋𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐨

I've been tossing and turning in my hotel bed for what feels like hours, my jet-lagged brain refusing to shut off. At some point, I give up entirely, throwing off the covers with an irritated sigh. If I can't sleep, I might as well do something useful.

I pull on a sweatshirt and shorts, jamming a beanie over my mess of curls. Trainers laced, I step into the elevator, the hum of the descending floors the only sound in the otherwise silent hotel. Most of the grid is getting their rest before quali tomorrow—smart. I'd like to be one of them, but my brain had other plans. Maybe a run will help.

Stepping outside, the warm night air wraps around me, but a slight breeze makes it bearable. The city is quiet, save for the occasional hum of a passing car. But then, something—or rather, someone—catches my eye.

Even from behind, even in the dim light, that sleek blonde ponytail is unmistakable. Noa.

A slow grin tugs at my lips. She's wearing pink leggings and a snug white jacket, the bright colors making her stand out against the muted cityscape. I swear, she always has some pop of color in her outfits—like she refuses to blend into the background. It suits her.

She's stretching, one leg pulled up behind her, completely oblivious to my presence. For someone who moves with the grace of a ballerina (which, to be fair, she is), her spatial awareness is clearly lacking because when I step forward and say, "Couldn't sleep?" she lets out a blood-curdling scream.

I jump back, hands up in surrender. "Jesus Christ!"

She whirls around, her blue eyes wide with shock before narrowing into a glare. "Lando!" she scolds, punching a small fist against my chest. Not hard, but enough to make her point. She mutters something in Dutch—probably a creative string of curses—before huffing, "What the hell? You scared me."

I can't help but laugh. For all the icy composure she tries to keep up, one tiny surprise was enough to rattle her. "Sorry," I say, still grinning.

She huffs again and goes back to stretching, clearly intent on ignoring me. But I'm not about to let her off that easy.

"You couldn't sleep either, huh?" I try again, determined to get more than just death glares out of her.

What I don't expect is for her to fully turn to me, arms crossed, expression sharp. "Hell no," she snaps. "Dn't act like we're cool. I'm pissed at you."

I feign innocence. "Me? What did I do?"

She scoffs. "Oh, don't play dumb. You're a dick."

I chuckle, already knowing exactly what she's mad about. "Oh, come on, Noa. That was funny."

"No, it wasn't," she argues, eyes narrowing. "Max and Daniel have been making jokes at my expense all weekend." She pauses, then glares even harder. "Max filled my office with papayas."

That's it. I lose it. A full, uncontrollable laugh bursts out of me. Of course, Max did. I can already picture his shit-eating grin as he ordered a massive crate of papayas, all in the name of winding her up.

"Which I'm alergic to, by the way. Probably another sign I should stay as far away from you as possible," Noa grumbles. Usually, this attitude on a girl would deter me or turn me off, but not Noa. She just makes me want to try harder.

I furrow my eyebrows at her revelation. "You're allergic to papayas?"

"Yeah. Papayas, pears, pinapples," she elaborates.