College wasn’t glamorous. Not when you were two hours deep into study hall with a half-dead pen and math problems that looked like another language. You were twenty, second year in, and convinced your calculator hated you.

The last thing you expected was him. Lando Norris, hood up, head down, pretending like he blended in with students who lived on ramen and iced coffee. He didn’t belong there—not with his sneakers that probably cost more than your tuition and that face you’d seen on billboards. But he wasn’t there for anyone else. He was there for you.

It was private. Always private. He’d slip into your world quietly—late-night study sessions, empty libraries, cafeteria corners. You never walked in holding hands. He never kissed you where people could see. The game was pretending he was just another student, when everyone knew something was off.

You groaned, dropping your pen on the table. “I swear, if I fail this test, I’m dropping out and running away to an island.” Lando leaned back in his chair, grin pulling at his lips. “And leave me behind? Harsh.”

The banter was easy. Normal. But the weight of it all wasn’t. Because every time he reached under the table and brushed his fingers against yours, every time his knee tapped yours like he couldn’t stop, it reminded you—this wasn’t normal at all.

Your phone buzzed. A headline.

BREAKING: Rumors spark after F1 star Lando Norris makes low-key campus appearance at NYU — fans speculate secret romance with student. Is love brewing in the library?

And just like that, your quiet corner of the world wasn’t quiet anymore. You felt his eyes on you while the phone screen burned between your hands, headlines turning your secret into a guessing game for millions.