Title from: ICU by Coco Jones
Zandvoort, 27th August 2023
Lando
"I'm just wanting to know you're okay." Mum has repeated the sentence at least four times since I answered the call five minutes ago. I sigh and wipe my hands over my eyes before pressing the button for the lift.
"I'm fine Mum." I urge (for the fourth time) with a firm nod of my head, the action making me wince at the tug of tender muscles in my neck. Maybe I'm not completely fine - but fine enough. The medical centre would've kept me in for further observations if they didn't think so. Hot shower, ice on the tender muscles and rest for the evening is what they had advised - I've heard it all before and Mum knows this too. Still, she worries.
"You're my baby boy, and you can't lie to me the same way you lie to those interviewers." I feel scolded by her tone. Heat graces my cheeks at feeling completely seen by my mother. Of course she saw the interviews where I denied anything was even wrong, that I was fine - Mum always sees everything. When she's not at races she made our family home a temple of sports channels, every single one available 'just incase'. I'm pretty sure if Sky Sports collapsed she'd have an alternative in a tenth of a second.
"Mum..." I groan. If my neck wasn't so sore I'm sure I'd my throw my head back in frustration. The slight jerk I make makes up for it. Pain shoots through me and I grit my teeth together in an effort to not groan at the tug of tension. It would only worry her more. "Do you not think Amber or Dan would've said if I wasn't?" I promise tightly. Not that I've told either of them how much my body is throbbing in discomfort from the impact of todays crash. "I'd be in the back of an ambulance or airlifted somewhere if I wasn't. I'm fine!" I stress. The woman on the other end of the line tuts tightly.
"Your sister already said you've been strange since summer. This is just..." she trails off helplessly, quiet. It's unlike Mum, and somehow exactly how I would expect her to be. A pang of guilt echoes in my chest over the worry I'm causing her, I'm fine pissing off just about everyone apart from my parents when they've given me so much. "What on earth was George doing?!" Mum questions to herself in a mutter. It's the same question I've been asking myself on repeat for the last three hours.
What the hell was George doing?
I had the inside line on turn ten, he knew it! He would've seen it a mile off. I was ahead into the turn and late braking meant that at the exit I remained was ahead - easily. Half of my car was infront, even the commentators acknowledged it when I've watched the whole thing back. So when George didn't lay off the accelerator and grace me with enough space to exit safely it sent us both careening towards the barriers; me worse than him.
I had nothing to do in those three or four seconds before the car ground to a halt but feel my heart pound in my chest. The gravel dust cast into the air made the heaved inhale feel thick as I braced for some sort of impact, a silent prayer that the barriers will do their job and the gravel slow me moving enough as the car spins at a dizzying speed so that it won't hurt too much. Or worse. All I could do was brace as the last words I heard from every single person I loved played through my mind.
It was the most helpless I've felt in a while.
'I think he turned into me' was the defence that George used over the radio. It was unsure and dazed before he pushed himself from the car and ran to me. To help. Until that moment I'd been sure that he'd known. That George had worked it out about Carla and I, or the pressure of it had made the secret slip from her and this was his sick version of well-deserved revenge. His almost panicked appearance at my side proved he knew nothing of it. I still wanted to scream at him for making me crash in such a way, ask him what the hell he was thinking driving like that, but the ache all over my body stopped me.
George helped me from the car when the medical crew came and directed stewards into all the right places because race George is a different man to my friend George. And all through it the voice in my head was repeating snide truths. Even if George was lying and I didn't turn into him, he kind of deserved to take me out like this. A DNF involving George is the least of my problems where he is concerned. He doesn't deserve what I've done to him.
"I just worry Lando." Mum's voices cuts through the speaker pulling me out of the memory and into the present.
"Well quit it, I'm fine." I warn humour dancing in my words.
"If I find out youre lying..." mums voice comes in a flat warning.
"You won't. I'm not a liar." Everyone lies a little to make their mum feel better don't they? I don't lie.
Except for Carla.
But I don't lie.
"Lando Norris you used to lie about training all the time, and doing any form of homework." A laugh cracks through me at the disapproving scolded words. It flattens when I notice the flurry of light hair to my left getting closer and closer and...
"Yeah, well, I didn't need the homework and nobody got hurt." I manage to choke out in reply, the phone still pressed to my ear but my jaw falling slack. The smile fading second by second as the small frame gets closer and closer until...Carla is at my side. It's the first time I've seen her since that morning after.
Maybe I am getting hurt but at least she's here.
"Lando..." a warning call of my name is huffed. Mum knows I got hurt at least a little today. I would never admit that to her. At least not when she's not here in person.
"I'm fine." Hearing the repeated promise for the first time Carla's green eyes flit to me and widen a little. I swear her shoulders unwind an inch but maybe I'm imagining that. The lift dings with its arrival the doors sliding open. "Mum, I have to go." I choke out taking a shaky step forward into the lift. She only huffs over the line, saying something about calling before my flight tomorrow and a dinner - I'm not listening anymore. I'm too focused on Carla. Carla who's stepping into the elevator with me on equally unsure footing. She's pressed the button to her floor, the fourth, and is fumbling with her hands waiting for me to press my own.
I do and the doors slide closed slower than they opened. Quiet music plays as I let the phone fall from my ear.
"You're okay?" Carla's voice is quiet but I don't miss a word. It would be impossible to, I've been desperate to hear it for months. My chest thrums and jaw tenses before I clear my throat. The mental reminder hitting me.
Get it together. Before anything we were friends. We are friends - at least as far as anyone else is concerned. Friends don't freeze up at a simple question batted their way.
"I've been better." I admit quietly, for the first time. For the first time I allow myself to really look at Carla. Until this moment she had only been a figure in the corner of my eye, it was too terrifying to see her entirely but when I do turn to her she's...devastated. Breathtaking with a few lighter strands running through her hair and a black blazer around her shoulders protecting her from the damp weather but equally devastated. Her cheeks are pink and eyes clearly makeup free. I know too well that the absence of mascara means at some point she's been crying - she's barely without the item of makeup.
"I'm so sorry." Her still almost silent voice says and I can feel my chest ache a little. I want to shake my head in rejection of her words but it would be so uncomfortable that I find myself looking for words instead.
"Does he know anything?" I ask to which Carla just swallows heavily, her hands still clenched as they fumble against the hem of her shorts.
"No." It's the first confident word to come from her. I never thought that a conversation with someone I know so well could be so awkward. There's an iciness to Carla's usually warm exterior that I'm blaming on the smudged makeup around her eyes.
"Then it's not your fault." Is all I decide. If George doesn't know today can't have been intentional. A nervous swimming feeling has swelled up in my stomach and I don't like it. Still, Carla looks relieved with my words, her shoulders relax another inch and her eyes lose the tight tension in their stare, finally turning to face me directly. "I'll be fine." I reassure her with a small smile. She doesn't reflect my easy expression, even if it feels anything but that.
The elevator dings coming to a stop on the fourth floor and Carla's shoulders sag even more. I can't tell if it's from disappointment or relief at getting away from me. The doors slide open, slowly. Carla puffs out a slow breath at the sight, almost as if she's disappointed that our allotted time together is over - I can't help but feel the same. It's been so long since I've even seen her, much less alone.
With another weak smile in my direction Carla takes her first step away. The distance feels like an ocean between us. In desperation my arm jerks out to meet hers. Even through the thick material of her blazer her skin feels warm in my touch, my hand fizzes with the contact the heat burning through my whole being. I wonder if she feels it too? She must. Her lips have parted in surprise and an ache is sparking down my back at the sudden movement.
"What's happened?" Carla stutters with my question. If she thought I was going to let her walk out of here when she's so obviously upset she doesn't know me at all.
"Nothing. I can't..." I feel my expression flatten.
"You've been crying." There's a brush of surprise on Carla's features. Maybe she didn't expect me to notice, or maybe she hoped I wouldn't be brave enough to ask. I know her better than that, I care for her more than that. A purse of Carla's lips and a cloud in her eyes tells me all I need to know.
George.
George is why she's been crying - that same snide voice is back in my head saying that George always seems to be the reason she's crying. I don't say it out loud. Carla's eyes are still clouded with the threat of further tears, but now they're looking to me pleading and helpless and... "He's so stupid Carls." I mumble as the doors slide closed slipping out on her floor. Tension swells up between us. She's stuck in her spot beside me, frozen in space waiting for my next move.
The next move which I don't even have to think about when Carla's eyes fix on mine. Sad, tired and confused. How can I ever stay away from her when she looks to me like that?
My lips find hers so easily. Everything is always so easy with her - even when it's so wrong. Yet, no guilt fills me, not this time. Instead, that same heat that was there when my arm brushed hers returns but this time through my whole body. The twinge in my neck pulls and aches but not enough to stop me. I'm not sure anything could stop me, especially when Carla's hands fall into my body in a weak effort to push me away. It results in her hands burying into my black tee and pulling me closer. The swarming feeling is back in me, not as aggressive or abrasive this time.
Carla wants me as much as I want her. She knows this is right.
Our lips continue to tangle, heavy breaths and hums of pleasure roll through the elevator as we slip into our own world. The world where it's just us and this isn't a despicable thing to be doing to a friend. The world where this is right.
I feel the lift stop moving. I hear the cling of the bell signaling arrival at my floor but my hands have found Carla's silky perfectly straight hair and I can't pull away. I never want to pull away. I'm picturing stumbling to my room and recreating the night we both clearly remember, only this time sober. My hand weaves into Carla's hair further tugging on her hair softly until she makes that delicious gasp that makes my chest swell.
It's the other small gasp that makes me pause.
The sound is familiar but not from Carla's lips.
For the first time I'm the first to pull away from our kiss. The sweet cherry taste of Carla's lipgloss is still on my mouth when I turn my head in the direction of the noise. Amber is staring at me- us, wide eyed and clutching a hand to her chest with an open mouthed confused expression.
"I-I was erm..." she hovers in place pressing a hand to her chest. "Just coming to see you were okay and you weren't...there." Amber sounds dazed as she says the words, they're spilling carelessly from her, brown eyes glazed over in surprised as she throws a thumb behind her towards my room. Her eyes flutter then squint as if assessing whether she's seeing things. She's not and she knows it. "I forgot my phone though." Amber's phone is in her right hand where it always is. She's lying in her panic. "I-" my sister's mouth begins to open and close again in surprise.
"Amber," the cautious call of her name from Carla makes Amber's mouth fall closed. A firm (yet still unsure) expression falling onto her face.
"I don't want to know." Is all she offers Carla with a brief shake of her head. Her eyes are falling everywhere but us, looking for a way out, an escape from this hell of a conversation. I wish I could find one but I'm stuck too. My heartbeat is pounding in my ears.
"Ambs," My sister's name leaves me in a slow plead and I cringe at how it sounds. I'm begging for her silence with the one word. It makes her hard expression grow colder as her eyes fix on me. I don't know what to do with the judgement in them, it's a way that she hasn't looked at me since...well, in over a year.
"Don't. Want. To. Know." She repeats the words slowly, each word hitting me with a slap of reality that sends my heart rate flying.
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It has been SO long! I'm so sorry about that but honestly this July is not July-ing...
ya feel?
I can't believe Lando and McLaren have been smashing it!! I feel like a proud aunt tbh, I love seeing all the team so happy (apart from HIM...he can go to hell)
Hope you enjoyed!!!
❤️