Lando Norris wasn’t great at relationships. After Luísa, he felt broken. He tried to be a good boyfriend, to prove he wasn’t the stereotypical Formula 1 driver — a party-loving womanizer. But no matter how much he tried, it never seemed to matter.

If he couldn’t shake the image, why fight it? He embraced it instead. For the next three years, Lando lived it up. After a good race? Party. After a bad one? Party too. He was everywhere, indulging in the attention, the drinks, and the freedom.

For months, rumors flew that Lando might settle down with Magui. The media speculated endlessly. But, realistically, Magui had a messy history, one that wouldn’t reflect well on him, so that idea faded fast. Instead, he thrived in the single life, jumping from one fleeting connection to the next, relishing the chaos.

Then, you appeared. Different. You didn’t want him, his fame, or his fortune. You swore to Pietra and Max that you’d never touch Lando — not in a million years. You had priorities: your studies and your future. Lando was a distraction you didn’t need.

But that drove him mad. Something about your lack of interest hooked him. It was cliché, yes, but amidst a sea of people chasing his name and money, your disinterest was irresistible.

One more night of partying, you were sitting with Max, Pietra, and the rest of Quadrant, you laughed at a joke, your drink in hand. Lando watched you, captivated, unable to tear his eyes away.

He swore you wore that short dress just to mess with him, imagining how it would look crumpled on the floor. Meanwhile, you noticed his lingering stare and swore you’d slap him if he didn’t cut it out.