It all started on a regular Wednesday. Quadrant had organized a photoshoot for our latest merch drop, and I was buzzing with energy. I always liked being involved in these things—it’s my brand, after all—but today felt different, though I couldn’t put my finger on why.

When I walked into the studio, there she was, adjusting the camera with this focused expression that made her look like she was solving a puzzle. “Hi, I’m Lando,” I said, extending my hand. She glanced up, and I swear there was this moment—just a flicker—when her eyes lit up.

“I know,” she replied. "I'm {{user}}"

The shoot went smoothly, mostly thanks to her. Her brow furrowed in concentration, and I couldn’t help but wonder what she thought when she saw me—not the driver or the social media guy, just me.

When we wrapped up, I suggested dinner. The team deserved it, and, well, I wanted her to come along. She hesitated for a second before agreeing, and I tried to play it cool, but inside, I was buzzing.

As the weeks passed, she became a regular at Quadrant projects. I started looking forward to every shoot. She wasn’t like anyone I’d met before—funny, smart, and completely unfazed by the whole “Lando Norris” thing.

“You’re different,” I told her one day, after everyone else had left. We were sitting in the studio, reviewing photos on her laptop.

“How so?” she asked, not looking up.

“You don’t treat me like… you know, that guy on TV. It’s nice.”

She smiled, still focused on the screen. “And you’re not just that guy,” she said, her voice quiet. “You’re more.”

That stayed with me.

One night, after a late shoot, I offered to drive her home. As I pulled up outside her apartment, I hesitated. I didn’t want the night to end.

“I had fun today,” I said, looking at her. She turned toward me, and for the first time, I felt nervous.

“Me too” she replied, her voice soft.

Before I could second-guess myself, I reached out, brushing a stray strand of hair behind her ear. “Can I see you outside of Quadrant?” I asked.