Waiting On You | 𝑳𝑨𝑵𝑫𝑶𝑺𝑪𝑨𝑹

2. Just Between Us

After that night the first time I saw Lando again was on the media day at the Dutch Grand Prix. There was an infectious enthusiasm radiating from him, evident in the broad and unmistakable smile on his face. The small gap in between his front teeth was one of my favorite features on him, whenever I saw them it meant he was happy, and his happiness was contagious.

"Osc!" he called for me when we first spotted each other in the paddock, heading to the hospitality home of Mclaren.

"Hi there," I greeted him with a smile, slowing my pace so he could catch up with me.

"When did you arrive?" he inquired, pausing for a few stops to take photos with fans.

"A couple of days ago, straight from Spain," I replied, watching as he signed a hat for a younger fan. "And you?"

"Today," he said, climbing back up the stairs of the building. "Just the usual, you know, Osc?" He shrugged.

A soft chuckle escaped me as Lando seemed somewhat fixated on the playful nickname he had given me. There was a charm in the way he relished this newfound term, and I couldn't help but feel a sense of endearment in the intimacy it created between us. I chose to indulge him, responding with subtle laughter each time it escaped his lips.

"We'll need you two in fifteen minutes at the back for some activities," our social media manager informed them as they entered the hospitality house. We nodded and headed to the breakfast buffet.

"You know, Osc," he paused, picking a few pieces of bread, no vegetables or greens. "I think we're going to do really well this weekend, I have this feeling..."

I followed behind him, my plate looking much greener than his as I gathered a couple of fruits to add color, following the team nutritionist's recommendation.

"Could be," I said calmly as we walked to one of the tables where a few of them were enjoying their meal.

"Osc," he looked at me, relaxedly leaning against his chair, "Do you guys eat kangaroos in Australia? I never dared to ask this to anyone, PR would kill me, but I think you're fine with me asking." He said while munching on his bread.

Me and the others on the table chuckled, "I guess some people do, yeah,"

"I knew it," Lando answered.

"But I never have," I added, taking a bite of the watermelon slice I had picked.

"Osc," he said again, "When you were a kid, did your father ever put you in a Formula One car?" He narrowed his eyes, his urge to speak whenever there was a second of silence being stronger than his hunger, his plate was still full.

"No," I answered, I tried to remember any traces of a memory of myself in a Formula One car before my career started but I couldn't find any. "Not that I remember..."

"You get to be a nepo kid and don't even get the benefits of it, what a shame..." He commented with a pout as he adjusted himself on the chair.

"Is he coming to this race?" One of the mechanics asked, I had grown accustomed to their constant curiosity over my father, despite him not being a world champion there seemed to always be a lingering eagerness over his presence.

"I think he might come, for quali and the race," I nodded, knowing that he was one to really enjoy this particular track and constantly hoped it'd be the same case for me.

"Daddy's boy," Lando teased, "I think you're like him and I'm like Sebastian." he said confidently.

I shook my head, chuckling, "Nice try," I teased him back, "I think I'm more like Oscar Piastri, future world champion."