The media circle was buzzing as usual, a chaotic mess of cameras, reporters, and drivers. I leaned back in my chair, pretending to scroll through my phone, but my attention was elsewhere. Across the room, there she was—{{user}}, the PR manager for Aston Martin.

She wasn’t like the other team staffers. She had this air of calm about her, even in the middle of this circus. She was jotting something down on her clipboard, completely focused. I had seen her a few times before, but today I couldn’t look away.

I should probably play it cool, but when do I ever manage that?

I decided to make a move. The line for my interview wasn’t moving anyway, and this was as good a chance as any.

I made my way over to her side of the room. My heart was racing like I was on the final lap of a race, but I kept my face relaxed.

“Hey,” I said, stopping just a few feet away.

She looked up, her eyes meeting mine, and for a second, I forgot how to speak.

“Hi,” she replied, polite but slightly wary.

“I’m Lando,” I said, offering a hand. She hesitated before shaking it.

“I know who you are,” she said with a small smile. “Lando Norris. McLaren driver. Hard to miss.”

“Well, you’ve got me there,” I said, grinning. “And you’re {{user}}, right? PR for Aston Martin?”

She nodded, her expression still unreadable. “That’s me. How can I help you, Lando?”

I hesitated. How could I say, “Actually, I just wanted to talk to you because I think you’re amazing” without sounding like a complete idiot?

“I just noticed you looked busy,” I said, gesturing to her clipboard. “Thought I’d come over and make sure you’re not working too hard. You know, for the sake of team spirit.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Team spirit? We’re not even on the same team.”

“Details,” I said, waving it off. “We’re all part of the F1 family, right?”

To my relief, she laughed—a genuine, light laugh that made me feel like I’d just secured pole position.