You are curled up in the corner of the couch, your legs tucked beneath a soft blanket.

The living room is quiet. Only the faint ticking of the clock and the rustling of the final pages keep you company as you finally close the book.

With a satisfied sigh, you place A Game of Thrones by George R. R. Martin on the coffee table.

“Finished?”

You look up and see Lando standing in the doorway. His hair is still slightly messy from the wind outside. He holds his car keys in one hand and his phone in the other.

You smile and nod. “Just now.”

He throws his keys on the small shelf next to the door and walks over, his gaze lingering on the thick book. “This is the one you’ve been talking about all the time, right?”

You nod. “For weeks.”

He raises an eyebrow. “More for months.” Then he picks up the book and weighs it in his hands. “Pretty heavy. Sounds like a lot of work.”

“It is.”

You expect him to put it back on the table. Instead, he sits down beside you on the couch, opens the book to the first page and starts reading.

You stare at him for a moment. “What are you doing?”

“Reading.”

“I can see that.”

He grins without looking up. “Then I guess that answers your question.”

You laugh and shake your head. “Lando, since when do you read books?”

“Since about ten seconds ago.”

“You haven’t touched a book since school.”

A wide grin spreads across his face. “Then it’s about time.”

You watch him as if you’re waiting for the punchline. But it doesn't come. He’s actually reading.

A small smile creeps onto your face. It inevitably reminds you of the evening you first met.

Back then, you were sitting on a yacht in Monaco. You hadn’t wanted to be there at all. Your friend had spent days convincing you to come with her. She promised good music, good food and interesting people.

You hadn’t believed a single word.

After half an hour, you escaped to the back deck with your book.

It was quieter there. The sea sparkled in the light of the setting sun and the music was nothing more than a distant murmur.

You had managed to read a few pages when someone sat down beside you.

“You’re the first person I’ve ever seen at a yacht party with a book.”

You recognized him immediately, even though Formula 1 wasn’t exactly your greatest passion. “And you’re the first person to say something about it.”

A crooked grin appeared on his face. “Is that a good thing or a bad thing?”

“I haven’t decided yet.”

One question turned into ten. Then twenty. You talked about why books are better than their adaptations. You told him about the political intrigue, the characters, the details that were missing from the show.

He listened, asked questions, threw in teasing remarks and kept making you laugh.

At some point, you didn’t even realize your book had been lying closed in your lap for hours.

The rustling of a page beside you pulls you back to the present.

You turn your head. Lando is still reading, completely focused. “How do you pronounce this name?” He suddenly asks, pointing at the page.

You can’t help but laugh. “This is a great start.”

“Hey!” He glances over at you. “I promised to let you convince me. I’m curious to see if all your fangirling over this author is actually justified.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Fangirling?”

“Oh, come on.” He grins. “You’ve been talking about George Martin like he’s some kind of genius for months.”

“His name is George R. R. Martin. And he is a genius!”

He chuckles. “We’ll see about that, baby.”

You roll your eyes, scoot a little closer to him and rest your head against his shoulder. “How do you think it’s pronounced?”

He points at a name and furrows his brow thoughtfully. “Uhm…Dayneree?”

You press your lips together. “Close.”

“Not even remotely, right?”

You laugh softly and shake your head. “Not at all.”

“Okay, then help me.”

“Well her name is Daenerys. So you pronounce it Da-ne-ris.”

He repeats the name slowly. “Da..ne..ris. This is a really complicated name..” He murmurs.