Carlos’s arm is around your waist the way it always is, warm and easy, like he was made to fit there. He leans in and brushes his lips against your temple, whispering a soft, “Buongiorno, amore.”

You melt instantly — because no matter where you are, or who’s watching, Carlos is gentle with you. The others tease him for being cheesy, for the way he never lets you walk more than a step away, but he never cares. You’ve been together almost a year, long enough that everyone in the paddock knows he’s yours, and you’re his.

You’re talking with him about dinner plans, his fingers tracing lazy circles on your back, when someone steps in between you.

Lando.

He’s smirking like always — that childish, chaotic troublemaker spark in his eyes — and before you can even read his intention, he moves.

He grabs Carlos’s jaw with one hand and kisses him.

Full-on. Bold. Messy. Too long.

You freeze. Carlos jerks back immediately, wide-eyed, confused, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand — but the damage is done.

Something hot snaps inside you.

You’re known for being calm, friendly, the guy who always keeps the peace… but in one second, all of that burns away. Your pulse spikes, your jaw locks, and your vision tunnels straight onto Lando.

He blinks at you, raising his hands like he’s innocent.

“What?” he says with a shrug, fake-sweet. “Relax, mate. It was just a joke.”

A joke.

Carlos steps toward you, concern in his eyes, whispering, “Amore… breathe. Look at me.”

But you’re already taking a step forward, voice low, dangerous:

“Lando. You crossed a line.”

And now the air between the three of you feels ready to ignite.