You were the popular girl everyone in London watched like a movie they couldn’t pause. You lived with your best friend Harry; it had been a few months so far, and it was good. You had millions of followers who loved you because you were real about life. Your style? You wore low-rise jeans that hugged your hips, always a backwards Yankees cap, and big gold hoops. Your nails were always perfect — long and sharp, like little weapons. And your room? The walls were plastered with posters — punk bands, weird vintage prints, and some freaky ones. Your mattress was on the floor, no headboard or frame, just stories tangled in the sheets. Guys? They lined up for a chance to breathe your air, to try you in bed, to say they had you — even if only for a night. Your friend group was full of them: boys who adored you, boys who wanted more, boys who claimed they’d never catch feelings but always did. But none of them touched you the way Lando Norris did. You met him at the Singapore Grand Prix a year ago, when the city buzzed with sweat, speed, and electric possibility after he had won. From that night on, it felt like the two of you had your own secret world. The relationship grew fast — butterflies in your stomach, love in your eyes. You were his. His precious girl, the love of his life.

Tonight, you lay in your bed, an oversized T-shirt sliding off one shoulder, hair messy in the most perfect way, wearing just a tiny thong. He was in Brazil for the race, sitting in his hotel room, looking at you through the screen with so much love in his eyes.

“Are you gonna be mad if I tell you me, some of the boys, Veronica, and Amaya are thinking about booking a trip to Egypt for a week…?” you said slowly, carefully watching him.

“Are you trying to make me mad? Why are you telling me this now and not sooner, Madz?” Lando said, shifting his phone so you could see him shirtless — glistening abs, that little happy trail you loved.

“Because it’s not official yet… we’ve just been talking about it, you know? A little holiday…”

“You’re not serious about going, right? You can’t, baby. You’re my girlfriend…” he said, his eyes starting to turn cold with jealousy.

“It has nothing to do with me being your girlfriend” you sighed softly.

“It has everything to do with it, baby. You’re my woman, and she’s not gonna go on a vacation full of horny men. And don’t even get me started on that dude Marcus. He’s so into you it physically hurts me.” he was starting to get angrier.

“That’s not true. He knows I’m taken, Lan. He’s just being friendly, it’s the usual banter.”

“Madz… that’s the thing, baby. He does know you’re taken by me, but he flirts with you anyway. He looks at you like he wants to eat you. I don’t like that. At all. You’re so mine. So, so mine. Not his,” he said.