Against You

Pre-Season Testing

I leave Jordan in hospitality and stalk over to the cabin where Lando gets changed and keeps his things. I peek through the window and see his bag on the floor.

"What are you doing?"

I spin around, panting, and see George Russell grinning behind me.

"Uh... Just a little prank on Lando," I say, opting to tell the truth. I know George and Lando are close friends, so a prank seems like something George would approve of.

"He keeps the key in that plant pot," George winks before heading away down the paddock. I breathe a quick sigh of relief. Sure enough, the key to the cabin is buried in a plant pot that's more soil than anything else. I shake it disgustedly before opening the door.

It only takes a second to put the biscuit in Lando's bag. I hide it under a towel next to his headphones and turn to leave, but then I think of something else. Since I'm here, why not have a snoop around?

It turns out not to be very interesting. Apart from finding some baby food in the fridge and learning how many tear-offs he puts on his helmets, I don't get any new information about Lando. His room is as bare as his personality. I lock the door behind myself and head back to hospitality.

"What took you so long?" my brother hisses.

"Just snooping around," I smile. "But I didn't find anything."

"You should have stolen his phone charger or something."

"Maybe next time."

At that moment a thundering stampede comes down from the top level of the building. The feedback session has finished. Lando barges past me and heads straight for his cabin, presumably to go home. I grin after him.

"Why so cheery?" one of his engineers asks, looking exhausted.

"Just enjoying my first days of Formula One," I reply. Lando disappears into his trailer, and I nudge my cousin playfully. Time to get out of here.

Lando POV

Today was long and hard. Testing isn't going well. We found issues on the aerodynamics and gearbox this afternoon and the feedback session was a real slog, rehashing every corner beat by beat and gear by gear. I'm thankful to be jumping out of my taxi and striding into the hotel where I can finally get some rest.

The evening is warm in Bahrain even at this time of year. The sun hasn't set yet and bathes everything in beautiful golden light. Usually I like having my testing sessions in the afternoon because it means I can have a well-deserved lie-in in the morning, but today it turned on its head and meant I was stuck in the paddock until evening.

I unlock my door and throw myself down on the pristine bed, exhausted from the day's driving. It's hard to get used to the physical strain after a couple of months out, but it was fun despite the toll it's taken on my body. I reach down the side of the bed for my headphones but my hand brushes something unfamiliar in my bag. I peer over the edge of the bed and find a weird orange napkin lying on top of my other belongings. I pull it towards myself and sit up. Crumbs spill out over the perfect white sheets.

Who would put a biscuit in my bag?

I sniff at it tentatively. It smells like the ones from our hospitality area, so why would someone sneak it to me instead of trusting that if I wanted one I would get it myself? I take a bite and it's all normal, umami oats and a hint of sweetness. I take another bite and look down at the napkin.

Love from Oscar.

I throw the biscuit to the bed and stand up, stopping in the middle of a jaw movement to spit it out into the bin. What? This means Oscar snuck the biscuit into my bag, but why would he do that? Could it be a peace offering? Is he trying to say sorry for something? Is he trying to make me feel bad for the milkshake incident?

I pick up the napkin tentatively, heart racing as if it could be laced with dangerous toxins. I don't know if the handwriting is his since I've never seen him write, and there's nothing else written anywhere. I almost wish I could unfold the napkin further and read the words just kidding or enjoy your laxative, that would be less unsettling than getting a genuine gift from that monster. I check my bag for other surprises, but apart from a few crumbs it's the same as it was when I left the hotel earlier today.

I slump back down on the bed and brush the crumbs to the floor, trying not to think about it. This is the last thing I need when I have a whole load of issues to fix within the team. I place the discarded biscuit on the bedside table and decide to go for another shower even though I just had one at the track. I order room service to cheer myself up and jump under the warm rush of water, washing away the crumbs that clung to my skin.

When I get out, a chicken Caesar salad is waiting for me along with a big glass of milk. I open the curtains and sit down to eat with a view of the rolling desert. In the distance I can see the bright lights of the track glowing against the quickly darkening sky. I've done this so many times before. This is my element, and I am in control. I won't let a stupid biscuit throw me off.

The ring of my phone makes me jump out of my skin.

I sigh and pick it up, wondering who on earth could be calling me.

"Hello?"

"Hey Lando, how's it going?" My sister's voice is bright and happy. I put my fork down and smile tiredly.

"I'm okay, and you? How was the tournament?"

"We came first!"

I congratulate my sister and take small bites of my salad as she tells me all about her showjumping competition. It's nice to hear a voice from home even if I was only there last week, and it reminds me that even if work isn't going well I'll always have a supportive family.

"What are you up to now, then?" she asks.

"Not much, just chilling and trying to forget about work. Oscar Piastri is making my life a living hell already."

"Oh really? What's he doing?"

"You know..." I struggle to explain why I'm so freaked out by a biscuit. "He's annoying me."

My sister laughs down the phone and I laugh a little too. I suppose when you look at things in context they aren't that bad.

"Want to jump on Call of Duty tonight?" she asks and a hastily accept her offer. I brought my laptop setup with me so I can even stream on Twitch if I want to, and there's nothing like my fans to truly take my mind off a difficult day. I say goodbye to my sister, telling her I'll call her back after I finish my dinner, and I decide to order another few things from room service to get me through the night. Call it self care, I chuckle to myself as I pull wires and boxes out of my suitcase. Lord knows I'll need a bit of self care if I'm going to be putting up with Oscar's stupid pranks all season.