The sun hangs low over the sea, painting the horizon in gold and pink as you walk across the yacht’s deck.

Music thumps from the speakers, laughter mixes with the clinking of glasses.

Truthfully, you hadn’t even wanted to be here tonight.

If it were up to you, you’d be at home right now, curled up on the couch or stretched out on your balcony, a glass of wine in hand, your book open on your lap, the soft evening breeze your only company.

But Ria had insisted, practically dragged you along, promising it would be worth it.

"Come on, {{user}}! Lando throws the best parties during summer break!” she'd said.

And now you’re in the middle of it all, in a place that’s elegant and dangerously slippery at the same time.

You’re wearing a bikini, with a matching cropped sweatshirt and a skirt over it.

A two-piece made of thin, flowing fabric, the sweatshirt knotted in the front, the skirt hanging loosely at your hips.

The wind runs through your hair as you try to keep your balance with every step. The floor is wet because the guys couldn’t find anything better to do than jump off the yacht, climb back up, and do it all over again.

With each step you shift your weight nervously forward, searching for stability, grabbing a railing here and the edge of a small standing table there.

You raise your eyebrows as you carefully pass a group of people who are gesturing wildly.

And that’s exactly when it happens.

Someone turns around suddenly, bumps into you and you lose your footing.

“Oh no, no, no…” You mutter as you desperately try to grab onto something.

You almost wrench your arm as you reach for someone’s arm, but that slips away too.

Then you lose your balance completely.

Your heart skips a beat, you brace yourself for the unavoidable impact with the floor, but instead you hit something warm, soft, and solid that immediately stops your fall.

A hand grips your waist firmly.

You need a moment to process what just happened.

Then you close your eyes briefly, sigh, press your lips together and turn your head.

Lando Norris, is sitting casually in a wide deck chair, sunset light on his face, a half empty glass in his hand.

And you are sitting completely unintentionally on his lap.

He looks surprised at first, then an amused grin spreads across his face, with a sparkle in his eyes that makes it very clear he’s enjoying the situation.

“If you wanted to sit on my lap, you could’ve just asked." He says easily.

Your cheeks burn. “I didn’t mean to! I slipped, I swear.”

He leans forward a little, just close enough that you feel his breath on your cheek.

His smile turns smaller, softer, almost like a secret meant only for you.

“What a shame." He murmurs, his voice dropping to a warm whisper you feel more than hear, while he draws small circles with his fingers on your waist.

For a moment the music feels far away, the laughter a distant sound, the sea nothing but background noise.

All you can feel is the heat of his hands and the crackling tension between you.