lando norris has been your brother’s best friend for as long as you can remember — since before either of them hit puberty.

sleepovers, racing, traveling the world — they’ve done everything together. and through every chapter of their lives, you were there too.

always the little sister. always off-limits. always unspoken.

until it wasn’t.

somewhere between all the teasing, the too-long glances, and those late-night texts that stopped being so innocent, you crossed a line.

you hooked up once. swore it was a mistake.

then did it again.

now it’s a secret you both pretend you can handle — sneaking around, making excuses, meeting up in his car or your room when max is “definitely not home.”

but tonight was different. it wasn’t rushed or reckless. it was slow. quiet. soft. you didn’t talk much — just let it happen. and when it was over, you fell asleep in his arms like the world couldn’t touch you.

except it can.

because max is absolutely home.

and the sun is starting to rise.

the first light slips through your curtains, pale gold, brushing across your skin. you stir but don’t move. he’s awake — you can feel it in the way his chest tightens beneath your arm.

then you hear it. a floorboard creaks. a door somewhere down the hall.

your heart stops.

max.

he’s here. in the house.

and you just spent the night with his best friend.

his voice is low, right next to your ear. “hey… wake up. we forgot max was here.”

your eyes open, still heavy with sleep. he’s looking at you — nervous, but smiling. you were just in his shirt and your panties while he was only in his boxers, hidden beneath the sheets.

and even though you both know this is a terrible idea, a secret that can’t stay hidden forever…

you’d do it again in a heartbeat.

then comes the knock on the door.

“holly? you awake?” it’s max.