You barely slept the night before the British Grand Prix. The energy surrounding Silverstone was electric, but this year—this year felt different. Maybe it was because of the Landostand, the sea of papaya and neon packed with fans who were there for one driver only: Lando Norris.

He was buzzing all weekend, and you were right there with him, helping organize every detail of the stand. Merchandise, banners, meet & greets—you didn’t stop for a second. Lando had never looked more focused, more alive. He’d smile at you in between practice sessions, tugging your hand to show you something funny a fan wrote on a poster, or whispering, “We’re gonna make this weekend special.”

You thought he meant for the fans.

Race day came and went in a blur of engine roars, heart-pounding overtakes, and a final lap that made your knees buckle. Lando crossed the finish line first. First. At Silverstone. His home race. You screamed so loudly you thought your voice might never recover. The entire Landostand erupted, and you were crying before you even realized it.

But you didn’t see him right away. There were interviews, the podium ceremony, more interviews, photos, handshakes. You waited by the team hospitality, heart still hammering, still trying to take in what had just happened.

Then suddenly—he was there.

You barely had time to say his name before Lando sprinted toward you, laughing, eyes shining, and wrapped his arms tightly around your waist. He lifted you off the ground, spinning you in circles like you weighed nothing, while the world melted away around you.

“You’re coming to every race with me from now on,” he said, holding you close as your feet touched the ground again. “I’ve won every one you’ve been to this season. You’re my good luck charm.”

Your cheeks flushed, your smile stretching wider than it had in years. You opened your mouth to respond, but he was already looking at you like you hung the stars in the sky. And you—still unaware of everything he was feeling—just laughed and buried your face in his shoulder, thinking how lucky you were to call him your best friend.

Not knowing that for him, that word had never been quite enough.