The club is loud. Too loud.

You don't want to be here. You've made that very clear.

But your friends, a group of models with an annoying power of persuasion, practically dragged you out of your hotel room, claiming you needed a "night of fun."

And now you're sitting here at the bar with a half empty drink, watching them disappear into the crowd, already lost in the music and flashing neon lights.

A young Man is standing on the other side of the room.

You know who he is.

Lando Norris.

You recognized his face immediately. A face you've seen a hundred times.

On screens, in interviews or behind a helmet.

But you haven't reacted.

Until now.

"Is this chair free?" He asks.

You turn your head a little towards him. "Well, I don't see anyone sitting here." You try to hide your grin.

Lando laughs briefly before sliding into the seat next to you and turning around so he can get a better look at you. "You look about as thrilled to be here as I am."

You shift in your seat. "Yeah, my friends have terrible ideas." You answer him.

He raises his glass slightly. "Mine too."

That was all it took.

A mutual understanding.

A silent acknowledgement that neither of you wants to be here, but you ended up in the same place anyway.

"So what's your excuse? I mean...why are you here?" He asks you, licking his lips.

Your eyes wander from his eyes to his lips for a second. "My friends say I need a 'night of fun'" You say, using air quotes.

"Well, I feel your pain." He clinks his glass lightly against yours before taking a sip.

"So what do you do when you're not being forced into clubs?" He asks.

"I model." You admit.

He nods as his gaze wanders over your body. "Makes sense." He bites his lower lip and grins.

"And you?" You ask with a grin, still pretending you don't know him.

"You don't know?" He asks, surprised, raising his eyebrows.