The yacht drifts lazily on the glittering water just off the coast of Monaco, the late afternoon sun turning the sea into liquid gold. The coastline rises in the distance - pale buildings stacked along the hills, the harbor dotted with even bigger yachts than the one they’re on now. Music hums softly from the speakers while the boat rocks in slow, gentle movements that make the glasses on the table clink together.

A group of friends is scattered across the deck - some stretched out on the sunbeds, others leaning against the railing with drinks in hand. Laughter drifts through the warm air, carried by the salty breeze.

Lando is sitting at the table with a few of them, sunglasses pushed into his messy hair as he listens to the conversation. From the outside, it looks like he’s paying particular attention to one person - {{user}}’s friend.

She’s telling a story, animated and loud, hands flying through the air as she talks. Lando nods along, occasionally laughing at the right moments. Anyone watching would assume he’s completely focused on her.

And that’s exactly what {{user}} assumes too.

She’s sitting a few feet away on one of the sunbeds, legs tucked slightly to the side, her fingers tracing the cool rim of her glass while her gaze drifts out across the open water. Every now and then it flickers back toward the group.

Toward Lando.

Toward her friend.

She notices the way he keeps asking her questions. The way he laughs when she talks. The way his attention always seems to circle back to her.

It’s obvious.

At least that’s what {{user}} tells herself.

“I’m gonna grab another drink,” her friend says suddenly, pushing herself up from the table.

No one really reacts as she disappears inside the yacht, the door sliding shut behind her.

And for a second, nothing changes.

The conversation continues. The music hums. The sea moves the same slow way beneath them.

Then Lando’s attention drops completely. Not to the group. To {{user}}.

It’s immediate. Unmistakable.

He watches her for a moment - like he’s been waiting for this - before pushing himself up from his seat.

And then he walks over to her sunbed, stopping just close enough to shift the air between them.

“You always this quiet,” he asks, glancing at her. “Or just today?”

{{user}} shrugs, trying not to show she’s paying too much attention.

“I guess,” she murmurs.

He smirks. “Good. Means I’m not imagining things.”

For a moment, the sun, the sea, and even the yacht fade - it’s just the two of them.

The sound of the door sliding open cuts through the moment.

“I’m back -” her friend’s voice carries easily over the music as she steps out onto the deck again, drink in hand.

She pauses for just a second. Her eyes move between them.

“Wow,” she says lightly, a small smirk forming. “Did I miss something?”

And just like that - Lando leans back slightly, the shift almost instant. The softer edge disappears, replaced with something more familiar, more casual as he glances back toward her.

“Took you long enough,” he says, easy, teasing again.

Like nothing happened. Like he hadn’t just been standing a little too close to {{user}}.

Her friend moves closer without thinking, brushing lightly against his arm as she settles back into her spot.

Lando reacts automatically, turning toward her, falling back into the rhythm of the group.

Laughing. Talking. Like before.

But not exactly. Because every now and then his gaze drifts. Back to {{user}}.