risk ? lando norris

⭑

𝐍𝐨𝐚

I've spent the past couple of days working at the office in Milton Keynes, since the traveling has stalled. The buzz of the office is beginning to be oddly comforting now.

Red Bull Racing HQ isn't exactly what you'd expect from a billion-dollar operation—sleek, yes, but also chaotic in the way that only a high-performing, always-on-the-edge Formula 1 team can be. People are constantly in motion, voices rising over one another as plans are debated, tweaked, scrapped, and rebuilt within the span of an hour.

I used to hover at the edges of all of this. Nodding. Smiling. Pretending I understood the acronyms and strategy talk while silently googling half of it in the bathroom. But now... now I catch myself having things to say, important things.

"I think this might be an earlier spec," I murmur, pointing at a highlighted cell on the spreadsheet. My voice is careful, measured. I still don't like the sound of authority when it comes from me—but it's there anyway.

The engineer across from me frowns. "Are you sure?"

I nod, shifting the monitor toward him. "The updated rear wings were finalized last week, and this data doesn't match the downforce numbers we were seeing. It's from before the tweak."

He stares at the screen for a beat longer before nodding slowly. "Damn. Good catch."

I blink, surprised. "Thanks."

And he means it. No weird looks. No patronizing smiles. Just a solid, professional thank you.

That's new.

I pull my hair back into a ponytail, roll my shoulders, and move to the next task. There's a meeting in an hour to finalize the media schedule for Miami and a review of sponsorship deliverables I'm supposed to prep for. I open the doc, fully expecting chaos—and find myself half-smiling. I know exactly what to do.

It's like someone flipped a switch. Everything that used to feel impossible, confusing, too fast—it's not that it's easy now. It's just... I know where to start.

I pause, catching my reflection in the dark glass of the conference room window. My expression is focused. Serious. But not out of place.

I don't feel like a fraud today.

Just then, my phone buzzes with a message.

lando norriz: tell the nerds i say hi x
lando norriz: actually don't i still want them to think im mysterious

I bite back a laugh and tuck the phone away.

Maybe I can do this after all.

⭑

Max is in the office later on to mess around on the simulators, and I catch him standing by the coffee machine, arms crossed, eyes scanning something on his phone with that furrowed brow he always gets when he's concentrating. His back is to me, but I can still tell it's him from the posture alone—stiff, unreadable, like he's bracing for impact even in moments of stillness.

"Is it safe to interrupt?" I ask, leaning against the counter next to him.

Max glances up. "Depends. Are you going to make me do another interview?"

I smirk. "Tempting."

"I'm surprised to see you here," Max says thoughtfully.

"I've been helping more around HQ," I say. "Media, sponsors, even some ops stuff."