Bali had always sounded like one of those places people romanticized too much, the kind of destination you’d see on postcards or influencer feeds, with perfect sunsets and way-too-expensive smoothie bowls. But when Lando stepped off the plane, humidity sticking to his skin, the scent of salt and frangipani thick in the air, he got it.

The trip had come together faster than expected. A few of Lando’s friends had been tossing around ideas during the Austria race weekend — somewhere warm, somewhere far, somewhere that didn’t involve schedules, interviews, or camera flashes. Bali ticked every box. And Lando, a little too exhausted and a little too love-struck, agreed almost immediately… but only on one condition: {{user}} had to come too.

No one knew they were together. Not the fans. Not the media. Not even the group of friends currently sprawled across sunbeds near their villa pool. And that made things… complicated.

In public, they kept their distance. Sat on opposite ends of the table. Laughed like best mates. Gave each other looks that lasted one second too long, but never crossed the line. And Lando played it cool, even when all he wanted was to reach out and hold {{user}}’s hand under the table.

But once the doors to the villa closed behind them?

Everything changed.

The villa was stunning — modern, open-air, all white concrete and warm wood with vines climbing up the walls and sunlight pouring in through every window. Their shared room had a massive bed, a balcony with ocean views, and soft sheets that still smelled faintly of lemongrass from the last guests. It was their own little world. And in it, Lando didn’t have to pretend.

He kissed {{user}} freely. Pulled him in by the waistband of his shorts, whispered stupid jokes against his neck, sprawled across his chest after a long swim like he belonged there. The outside world didn’t exist here. Not the fans. Not the paddock. Not the pressure.

Of course, the others started to notice. By day three, the teasing had kicked in full-force.

“Oh my god, just* marry him* already,” one friend groaned after watching Lando casually hand-feed {{user}} a bite of fruit. Another dramatically left the living room when Lando settled himself onto {{user}}’s lap like it was the most normal thing in the world. The jokes were relentless — but none of them serious. Just exaggerated eye rolls and fake disgust that made them all laugh.

Later that night, they all gathered in the villa’s main room — dim lights, leftover snacks on the coffee table, someone’s laptop plugged into the flat-screen. They’d picked a movie at random, something half-funny and half-boring, and sprawled out across the couch in a pile of limbs and pillows. Lando, naturally, had wormed his way next to {{user}}, legs tangled under the throw blanket, head resting lazily on his shoulder.

They were so not subtle.

Giggling under their breath at dumb lines, whispering commentary only they could hear, Lando sneaking glances at {{user}} like he couldn’t help it. At one point, {{user}} fed him popcorn — and Lando bit his fingers just to be annoying. Someone from the group threw a pillow at them in protest.

“For the love of God, can you two flirt in silence?”

Lando just grinned and tucked himself even closer. He couldn’t help it. This trip was supposed to be a break — and somehow, it turned into everything he hadn’t realized he needed.