Faking it || Lando Norris LN

27

Olivia Reyes

Everything started going in fast motion from one second to the other. Daniel's head had snapped up, wide-eyed and full of alarm about three seconds before a girl's loud scream near our table alerted the rest of us as well. Someone could've thought he was psychic, or even sworn he had a sixth sense.

But in reality, he was just the one with the most experience partying with Lando out of all of us.

He sprinted towards our tables faster than the rest of us, making his way through the sea of smoke and bodies that had begun to circle the scene.

That's when I saw Lando, in his white shirt and black jeans, holding a guy against the floor.

He delivered blow after blow, mercilessly, ruthlessly, straddling the man and holding the stranger's chest in place with one hand as the other found the man's jaw repeatedly. His shirt was slightly unbuttoned, soaked from the top part —like his neck and face—, and with small traces of the guy's blood on it.

Time was still going at normal speed as my jaw went slack and my body decided to freeze.

It was still going at normal speed when I heard Max yell Lando's name next to me so loud it must've hurt my eardrum.

It was still going at normal speed when Lando's face shot up and found mine.

Everything after was fast motion.

I didn't even process Charles' hand trying to get ahold of my arm as I bolted towards Lando. I didn't even process the way I grabbed the sleeve of his shirt and almost ripped it when I pulled him to his feet while mine were running, and I certainly didn't process his hand inside of mine a second after, or the speed with which we parted the crowd as I guided us out.

I didn't process the paparazzi's blinding lights pouring down on us as we ran through them or the way I had found our SUV faster than a beacon of light, and honestly I was too much of an adrenaline mess to process how it got us to Lando's place in the blink of an eye.

But if I had, maybe the night would've turned out differently.

Neither of us had even turned on the lights of the dimly lit house before I started shouting.

"What the hell was that, Lando?!" I raged, feeling something snap inside me. Maybe it was the adrenaline, or maybe it was because the adrenaline had run out, but I was suddenly hyper-aware of the boiling blood running through my veins.

"What the hell was what?" He snapped, his words dry as he walked toward the kitchen sink seemingly nonchalant and rolling his sleeves up, but his body was so tense I could see it even through my own built-up tension.

"Oh, sorry. Where you not there?" I scoffed, my words heavy with sarcasm. "I must've fucking hallucinated you beating someone to a pulp."

"He started it!" Lando's face hardened as he enunciated each word of his remark slowly, his voice growing louder but refusing to look at me.

I stomped toward him to the opposite side of the kitchen counter as my eyes looked for his.

"What are you, a four-year-old?" I glared at him while he aggressively turned on the faucet to maximum capacity and ran his bloodied knuckles under it.

"How is this any of your fucking business!? You're not my fucking girlfriend." His face twisted in anger as he slammed his open hands at the sides of the sink, his eyes as narrow as slits over his clenched jaw.

"And trust me I thank God for it EVERY DAY, but the world thinks I AM!" I slapped my hands against the counter as well, my entire body crackling with anger as he whispered 'Lucky me' and rolled his eyes, making my mouth go wide. "You don't even give a shit how your little tantrum may have affected the stunt, now do you?!"