Faking it || Lando Norris LN

32

Olivia Reyes
Sunday. Silverstone Grand Prix.

"You're getting better at this every day," Santiago said as he took the tennis ball from my hand and brought both of his arms back up.

We had already done my pre-race warm-up, so we were now doing some reflexes exercises to make sure I was ready. This was one of my favorite exercises. Santiago would take two tennis balls in his hands and raise both arms in front of me, almost in front of my shoulders. I would place my hands on top of the back of his, and try to grab the tennis ball as quickly as I could after he let go of either of the balls.

The compliment brought a smile to my face. Santiago really wasn't a man of many words. A lot of his compliments were playful shoves or slight smiles, so the fact that he'd verbally told me I was getting better meant he genuinely thought it was true and wanted to make sure I knew.

We did a couple more rounds together and I took a seat in the garage with one of the tennis balls inside my hands as the engineers and mechanics made sure the car was ready. I'd already finished my pre-race strategy meeting but there was still some time left before I had to get inside the car. I reclined back against the chair and closed my eyes as I went over the track inside my head, throwing the tennis ball in the air and catching it with my eyes closed.

I kept fidgeting with the tennis ball, throwing it in the air at a close distance and catching it —until I didn't. I jolted as my eyes shot up —someone in the crew could trip on it if it rolled down the garage, after all—, but my eyes found Lando's back, walking through the garage and whistling playfully as he threw the ball in the air.

"Hey!" I laughed out as I got up and sprinted toward him. "Give it back!"

"Oh, this?" he turned back as I pulled him from the shoulder, revealing a smile on his face and his playfully furrowed brow. "Finders, keepers, Reyes."

I threw a hand out to try to grab the ball, but Lando quickly hurled it to his other hand. I reached out for it again, but he turned around before I could grab it.

Mental note: Don't try to beat the Formula 1 World Champion at a reflex battle.

"Come on!" I chuckled as I threw my body over his back and snaked an arm over his right shoulder and the other one under his left arm.

"Wait! That tickles!" Lando laughed out.

"Then give it back!" I replied a second before I took ahold of the tennis ball. "HA!"

"You're so insufferable," he chuckled.

"The pot calling the kettle black," I said as I rolled my eyes, causing him to snort. "Wait, there's an eyelash on your cheek."

I stretched out a hand and grabbed the fallen eyelash with the tip of my fingertips before placing it in front of him.

"Wow... An eyelash..." Lando chuckled and knitted his eyebrows with confusion, clearly unsure of why I was holding up an eyelash in front of him.

"Wh—Lando you have to make a wish."

"A wish?!" he prompted, placing the question as if I'd just asked him to drink his own urine.

"Have you never wished on a fallen eyelash?" I arched my brows with surprise.

"You really don't run out of superstitions, do you?"

"Just make a wish!!!" I said exasperatedly and unable to hide the smile on my face.

"ALRIGHT! Jesus," he crossed his arms and looked to the side, biting the inside of his cheek as he thought of a wish. "Alright, done."