Faking it || Lando Norris LN

34

Olivia Reyes

Words escaped all realms of possibility as I stood there, frozen in front of Vincent. The same way I'd been so many times, all of them in dreams but this time in bone and flesh.

In regret and anger.

"W-What are you doing here?" The words barely made their way out of my mouth. Every syllable had been a weak whisper dragging themselves up my shaking throat.

"I'm Mercedes' reserve driver," he replied with a smug smile, "Russell's got a back injury and his trainer wants him to rest this week."

Vincent paused for a second, his lips still parted as if he'll say something else while he dragged his eyes slowly over me all the way from my head to my toes. My stomach turned with a nauseating feeling.

"Get out of here V—"

"Lando Norris, huh? Wonder how that came around," Vincent interrupted, crossing his arms over his chest. "Although, I guess it doesn't take a genius to figure it out," he raised his brows mockingly. "Unless it's you, of course, then you definitely wouldn't have figured it out."

My face hardened as his words hit me like a punch straight to the gut.

Then you definitely wouldn't have figured it out.

"How can you be so fucking cynical?" The words strangled themselves inside my throat.

"Cynical? Me?" He scoffed. "Aw, I'm just being straight up with you," a sarcastic smile was plastered on his face. "It's the way the world works! You don't really think Lando's not the type to kiss and tell, now do you? If he'd already fucked you there wouldn't be a single person in the paddock who didn't know. Hell, maybe there wouldn't be a single person in the world who didn't know."

"You have no idea what you're talking about," I clenched my jaw, feeling my teeth grinding against each other.

It was true that he had no idea what he was talking about. After all, he had no idea this relationship was fake and that the scenario he was trying to twist my mind into believing would never work because of that same reason: the relationship wasn't even real, to begin with.

However, Vincent knew exactly what he was doing. The record player inside my head was loud and demanding as it played an old, painful tune. The words he spoke were stinging as they punched holes into my skin so harshly I could feel bullets going through my body.

"I'd say you have no idea," he arched his brows with a smile. "Do you go to the gym with the rest of the grid? Do you hear the things they talk about? Do you really think they haven't speculated who's gonna fuck you first?"

I shut my eyes tightly, not wanting to hear any of this, but he just kept going.

He knew where the wound was. Where to twist the knife. How to make it hurt.

And it was working.

"I'm surprised Lando was even interested at all," Vincent shot his brows up, "but I guess the other guys must've thought Charles was gonna fuck you first and he took it as a challenge. We all know how he loves those."

I shook my head at the drop of Charles' name, feeling my face crumpling like a used tissue. My eyes started watering. He couldn't be more wrong about the whole situation, and yet his certainty gripped my stomach. My head was spinning wild with the confidence of the words he spoke, how sure he was that the other drivers had had conversations about me of that matter and how disgustingly possible it felt.

I knew no one in the grid thought that Charles or I wanted anything sexual with each other. I even knew Lando wouldn't have cared to fuck me even if posed as a challenge. But that didn't mean that there had never been a conversation about who of the other 18 drivers would fuck me first. I felt nauseous at how possible those conversations felt.