Formula 1 imagines and preferences

Lance Stroll. How you guys met. Part 1.

You and Lance grew up together. I want to add some back story before you meet as adults.

It's a cold day. But you don't mind. You always loved the cold Canadian winters. They made you feel at home, and you never felt too cold. The snow was falling, harder than most people would like but not too hard. It was your favourite time of year. Right before Christmas. Your school always had a dance the week before the holidays. You didnt really like these dances. The athletic boys and popular girls would slow dance and kiss in the corner. You hated that. 'THIS IS MIDDLE SCHOOL! GEEZ GUYS' you would always think to yourself.

You crossed the street and saw your best friend, Lance. You ran over to catch up with him as he trudged through the snow.

"LANCE! LANCE, WAIT UP!" you called. He turned to see you and waved.

Lance was your best friend. You two were set apart from the majority of the other kids. He was in to karting, and had a rich family (*ok I know he probably would have gone to a private school, but just let that detail slide for the story and we will say he went to a public school*). You were super nerdy and loved mechanics. You and Lance were clearly the best people to be friends. He loved racing, and you loved the mechanics behind it. You would go to his house after school and show him all your plans on how his kart could be better. He would come to your place and teach you how to drive his kart. This often ended in you bleeding and laughing.

'Hey Y/N! Looking forward to the dance?" He asked you.

"Do you really mean to ask me if I look forward to watching idiots share saliva and slow dance in the back of the gym? Uh, no. Not really. But I did have another one of my mechanical epiphanies in the middle of last night!" I say.

"Oh you mean those magical things where you wake up and have some brilliant idea as you go back to sleep and spend all of the next day telling me about it?" He asks.

"Yup." I say. He groans sarcastically.

The day passes. We have our conversations in the halls between classes and pass notes in class. We are both super lucky to be in all the same classes.

I see Lance's hand stick out from behind his chair with a folded slip of paper. I grab it from him.

I have a karting race this weekend. Wanna come?

YAY! I write back.

DUH! I'll be there.
You better bring me food

I pass the note back. I hear him silently chuckle to himself as he reads it.

The day continues to pass by.

The dance rolls in.

As if it was programmed into their pinhead brains, the popular kids all went to the back to slow dance and make out. Lance and I just stood off to the side talking and laughing about stupid things. Just what friends do.

The song comes to an end. 'Stolen Dance' by Milky Chance comes on.

Lance stops mid sentence.

"Y/N," he starts. He looks me in the eye. "I know you hate these dances. And I do too. But Y/N, I need to tell you this." Lance was practically shouting over the loud music. I look at him, curious as to what this news is. "Y/N, you're amazing. I have enjoyed your friendship over the past years of our lives more than you can imagine. Y/N, were in 8th grade now. This is our last Christmas dance here. Y/N, I really want to dance with you. Just this once. Y/N, I like you. As more than just a friend"