It’s blindingly hot on the paddock. You’re shading your eyes with a media clipboard, regretting everything — especially not bringing a hat.

From the garage, something flies through the air. You catch it just in time.

A McLaren cap. Worn, slightly sweaty.

You look up. Lando. Grinning like a kid who just scored a goal.

"Don’t say I never gave you anything."

You roll your eyes, slipping it on. It smells like sunscreen and adrenaline.

A second later, he adds, more quietly: "But don’t give it to Leclerc after. I’ve seen how he looks at you."

You laugh. "What, jealous of Charles now?"

"No," he says, walking backwards. "Just tired of people not knowing who you're with."