Racing hearts

First race

Noah his pov:

The heat hit me first — dry, heavy, clinging to my skin like it wanted to suffocate me before I even made it to the grid. I stood just outside the Williams garage, fingers twitching at my sides, the roar of engines pulsing through the air like thunder in my chest. Fotos everywhere from the other drivers, but also from me with my name big under of beside it 'Noah Bellamy'. If i need to be honest, looks not that bad.

But i was actually here. Formula 1. Race day.

And I was trying not to throw up.

The paddock was alive with energy, chaos, and too many eyes. People weaving between hospitality units, engineers running with tablets, cameras catching everything. Every move I made felt like it could be judged, clipped, and posted in under five seconds.

I was the rookie. The unknown. The "one to watch." No pressure.

"Hey. First race?"

I turned toward the voice — casual, confident, like the chaos didn't touch him at all. It was Lando Norris, in the flesh. McLaren suit half-zipped, curls slightly messy, smile doing dangerous things to my heart rate.

God, he was even better-looking in person.

"Uh... yeah. I mean—obviously." I let out a weird half-laugh, trying not to sound like a total idiot. "Rookie."

He grinned. "You'll be fine. First corner's always a bit of a shitshow, but if you don't brake like a lunatic, the grid won't hate you."

"Right. Minimal death. Got it."

That made him laugh — a real, effortless kind of laugh that made my stomach tighten in the worst/best way.

"You'll do fine. Just don't let the nerves eat you alive." He started to walk away, then threw a glance over his shoulder. "Oh — and welcome to the show."

I barely remembered how to breathe after he disappeared down the paddock. My pulse was still racing — and not just because I was about to start the most important race of my life.

No. It was because Lando fucking Norris had talked to me.

And smiled like that.

And now I couldn't stop thinking about it.