The karting track had closed hours ago, but Lando had convinced you to stay. Sixteen and full of restless energy, he always had a grin ready, always pulling you into mischief.

You sat together on the pit wall, legs swinging as the summer air cooled around you. He was tossing gravel onto the tarmac, pretending he wasn’t sneaking glances at you every other second.

“You know,” he started, his voice softer than usual, “I think you’re faster than me.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “Not a chance. You just hate losing.”

He smirked, leaning a little closer. “Yeah, but… losing to you doesn’t feel so bad.”

The words hung in the air, awkward and clumsy, but his cheeks flushed under the floodlights. For once, Lando Norris was nervous.

And then, as if the universe conspired, someone nearby set off a cheap firework — red sparks scattering across the night sky. You gasped, eyes drawn upward, and when you looked back, he was watching you.

“{{user}}…” he whispered. And before you could reply, he leaned in.

The kiss was quick, messy, almost like he was afraid you’d pull away. But it was real. His lips tasted faintly of soda and salt from the fries you’d shared. He pulled back, eyes wide, grin returning in full force.

“Guess that makes you my lucky charm,” he said, though his voice cracked just enough to give him away.

And you couldn’t stop smiling the rest of the night.