It started off chill. Casual. No pressure.

You were just his “plus one.” Lando had a last-minute invite to an F1 awards night and asked if you’d tag along. Said he didn’t feel like going alone, that it’d be “more fun” with you. So you said yes.

Except no one told the red carpet that you were just friends.

The second you stepped out of the car, it was like flashbulbs were raining down. “Lando! Who’s she?” “Are you dating?” “You guys look good together!”

You froze. He didn’t.

Lando just reached for your hand like it was the most natural thing in the world.

“Smile,” he whispered through gritted teeth. “You’re killin it”

Your brain was short-circuiting. But you smiled. And let him hold your hand all the way inside, even though your heart was losing its damn mind.

—

Inside the venue, things didn’t calm down.

People kept asking how long you’d “been together.” McLaren staff gave you that look—the smirky one. Oscar winked. Someone from Red Bull literally asked if this meant you were “official now.”

You tried to play it cool. “We’re just friends,” you kept saying. “It’s not like that.”

But Lando didn’t say much. Just kept that smug little look on his face like hmm interesting how she’s handling all these questions, maybe I’ll keep watching her squirm.

And then… dessert came.

And he leaned over, voice low and lazy in your ear. “Y’know if we were dating, we’d be doing a really shit job hiding it.”

You blinked. “We’re not dating.”

“I know,” he said, grinning like a menace. “I’m just saying. Feels like everyone else didn’t get the memo.”

You tried to play it off. “It’s the dress. People see a dress and assume things.”

Lando looked you up and down. “That dress is insane, to be fair.”

Your pulse spiked.

He leaned back in his seat, all nonchalant again. “I should invite you to stuff more often. People are way nicer to me when you’re around.”

You rolled your eyes, cheeks burning. “Next time bring someone who’s better at pretending.”

He didn’t answer right away. Just glanced at you again, a little slower this time. A little quieter.

“…I think I like pretending with you.”