Night Switch

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Lando POV

I dance around the room, sipping on a alcoholic cocktails and taking photos with everyone who wants me, holding up my trophy as it glints in the dance floor lights. Everyone is drinking tonight and I happily placed my card behind the bar to sponsor it. I know I got lucky with that final lap, but man am I happy right now.

"Lando! Care for a photo with your boss?" Zak Brown throws his heavy arm around my shoulders and rips the enormous trophy from my hands as the camera flashes and flashes again. "You doing okay?" he shouts over the music.

"Yeah, great!" I laugh. He kisses the trophy and hands it back to me.

"Shame about Oscar, isn't it? I suppose I should find him and give him a little pep talk."

I force a smile and Zak Brown turns away. My eyes scan the room but don't see Oscar anywhere. I try to take that as a good thing, but some part of me wishes I had found him watching and ruminating in his own inadequacy. And some deeper part feels heavy, like a brick has settled in my stomach.

Will invites me to play beer pong but I feel sick at the thought, remembering how it went last time. At least my room is only upstairs now, not halfway across Woking, in case anything goes wrong tonight.

Eventually my body gives out and I flop into a comfy sofa on the outskirts of the party. I've raced at Monza today, the temple of speed, and won. I mustn't overdo it on the celebrations. I'm sick of being the only McLaren employee who doesn't know how to hold his drink.

"You okay?" Grace sits down beside me. "Great performance today!"

"Thanks," I smile. "But you don't have to congratulate me, everyone else has done enough of that already."

Grace laughs and offers me her bag of crisps. I decline and gaze tiredly around the room at my team. Happy, dancing, carefree. The whole season could've been like this if it wasn't for stupid Oscar Piastri.

"Are you thinking about Oscar?" Grace asks.

I tilt my head. "How did you know?"

"You always get this specific look on your face. Your eyebrows go tight and you clench your jaw."

"Yeah, those are signs of anger."

"But you did it! You really put him in his place today."

I sigh. Why do all conversations with Grace come back around to Oscar?

"I know why I have problems with Oscar," I say, "but why do you hate him so much?"

Grace nibbles on a crisp for a while before she answers.

"He's just... an antagonist. The paddock would be a better place without him."

I study her, searching for a hint of a lie, but the moment passes and I look back at the crowd. The brick in my stomach is growing.

Will shouts at the DJ to put on some limbo music, whatever that means. He spots me sitting at the edge of the room and strides over purposefully.

"Lando, you have to be part of the limbo competition! Come on, you're so short it'll be easy for you."

"Hey!" I complain and Will laughs drunkenly. He grabs my arm and I allow him to drag my out of my seat. I shrug and smile at Grace as we leave her behind. I feel a little bad, but I'm glad for a distraction from Oscar Piastri.

In the centre of the room, two of the pit crew hold a piece of car wiring at a height that I could just about walk under. Will releases me at the edge of the crowd as Leah shimmies up to face the challenge first.

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