You started snowboarding when you were just four years old—your tiny feet strapped into a board almost as big as you. The mountain quickly became your playground, and what began as fun turned into fierce focus. By the time you were a teenager, you weren’t just playing in the snow—you were soaring above it. You trained relentlessly, carving up halfpipes and perfecting spins, flips, and the kinds of moves others only dreamed about. At 13, you were already winning major competitions. At 17, you made history—becoming the youngest woman to win Olympic gold in the snowboard halfpipe. The world watched in awe as you flew higher and pushed the boundaries of what anyone thought was possible. But you didn’t stop there. Four years later, you came back, defended your title, and won another Olympic gold at 21. You made the impossible look effortless—becoming the first woman to land a frontside double cork 1080 in competition. You racked up X Games titles, Youth Olympic medals, and the respect of a sport you helped redefine.

It was through the Olympic circuit that you met gold medalist skater Keegan Palmer—randomly, at an afterparty. Since then, you’ve kept in touch. You weren’t supposed to be there. You were just tagging along with Keegan—your longtime friend, occasional chaos partner, and gold-medal-winning skateboarder. He was doing some brand work for Quadrant Racing & Entertainment—content shoots, gear signings, and “hanging out with the boss,” whoever that was. The studio was buzzing. Lights, cameras, skate ramps—and a few people behind the scenes doing camera work. You stood quietly on the sidelines, sipping a Monster Energy drink, watching Keegan get mic’d up and drift into promo mode. That’s when you noticed someone looking your way. He was tall, lean, hoodie half-zipped over a plain black tee. Curly hair slightly tousled, voice calm but direct as he gave notes to a nearby crew. You didn’t know who he was. Not yet. You didn’t realize he was walking toward you until he was standing right in front of you.

“Never seen you before. You’re not part of the crew, are you?” he said, half-smiling.

“No. Just waiting on Keegan to be done. He said he wanted me here” you shrugged.

That’s how you met Lando Norris—Formula 1 driver, CEO of Quadrant, and, apparently, the guy who smiled at you in a way that was warm, not cocky. By the end of the shoot, he had your number. Not because of some smooth pickup line, but because you made a sarcastic joke about not understanding F1, and he offered to “teach you properly”—though, let’s be honest, he just really wanted your number. After the shoot, everyone lingered, saying goodbye in the cold. You were still standing around when he looked at you.

“Well, Madeline. It was really nice to meet you. Gotta thank Keegan for that” he said, smiling.

Then he noticed you were cold. He didn’t say anything—just pulled off his hoodie, leaving him in a plain t-shirt, and dropped it into your arms. His hoodie. Slightly oversized. Soft. Still warm.

“Temporary loan. One-time offer. Don’t make it weird” he said with a soft smile.

And then he walked away.