You’ve always been the quiet one. The one who listens more than she speaks. Who watches the party from the edge of the room. And somehow, Lando has never stopped noticing you.

He invited you to Comporta with the usual Lando-style casualness- “Come, seriously. You need a break. We’ll chill, do beach stuff, golf, the usual. I’ll be training, but nothing intense. Promise.”

You’d hesitated. As always. And as always, he’d waited for your yes with that half-smile, already knowing you’d say it.

When you land, a day after everyone else, he’s there. Of course he is. Waiting just outside arrivals, leaning against the car, cap pulled low over his eyes. But the moment he sees you, his face lifts.

“There she is,” he says with a grin, pulling you into a hug that lasts half a second longer than usual.

The car ride is all soft music and his voice-asking how your flight was, telling you about the villa, the people, what you’ve missed (not much, he says, with a glance that makes you think he missed you more than he's letting on).

At the villa, everything’s already in motion. Music, voices, someone shouting for a missing flip-flop. You recognize a few faces - Max greets you warmly - and others you don’t know at all. Lando stays close. When he introduces you, he says your name like it’s obvious everyone should already know it.

Upstairs, he shows you your room. “You’ve got the best view,” he says, opening the curtains. You do. Ocean stretching endlessly out.

“We’re heading to the beach in ten. I’ll wait for you,” he adds before slipping out.

You move quickly - bikini, lightweight dress, tied-up hair, sandals. You grab your towel, sunscreen, sunglasses. As you descend the stairs, you see the group clustered by the kitchen, loud and already halfway out the door.

“I’m ready,” you say.

No one turns.

Except Lando.

He catches your eyes instantly, gives you a nod like I got you, then raises his voice. “Alright, let’s go!”

The walk to the beach is golden. Everyone’s buzzing with inside jokes, talking over each other. You stay on the edge of the group, as usual - but every few minutes, Lando looks back to make sure you’re still with them. With him. Once, when the path narrows, he slows until you’re next to him. “Alright?” he asks quietly, barely above the breeze.

You nod. He doesn’t push.

At the beach, the others run ahead with towels and beach bats, tossing jokes around like candy. You take your time. Lando sets his stuff down, then looks around - and there it is again. His eyes find you.

He waves you over, patting the spot next to him. You sit close, not touching, but near enough to feel the warmth off his sunlit skin. He offers you his extra water bottle without asking.

You stay for hours, half-listening to the chaos around you. Lando drifts between swimming and chatting with the others - but always, always comes back to sit near you. He doesn’t make it obvious. But he doesn’t hide it either.

That night, when the sun is gone and the salt is dry on your skin, everyone gathers on the terrace with drinks and laughter. You quietly slip away.

Lando notices within minutes.

He excuses himself, ignoring someone calling his name, and heads upstairs. Your door is cracked open slightly. The light inside is soft.

He knocks once.

“Hey,” he says gently. “You hiding from me?”

You glance up from your book. “Just needed a bit of quiet.”

He steps inside, hands in his pockets, leaning against the doorframe. His eyes don’t leave you. “You’ve been quiet all day,” he says, like he knows the reason but wants to hear it from you anyway.

“You’ve been paying attention,” you murmur.

He smiles. “Always do.”