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IT had already been an eventful weekend for both Lando and Bianca, but the jitters weren't stopping until the Bahrain Grand Prix was done.
Free practice had been a breeze for Lando, ending with him getting P5, and qualifiers was even better.
Yesterday, Lando had grabbed pole position into his hands, and the cheering from the McLaren garage must have been heard around the world—cheering, that included Bianca's own, and she had already started to turn the garage into a second home for her to familiarize herself with. It was a new experience for her to be present at every race happening within the season, but it was a welcome one regardless.
She watches from the sides as Lando gets suited up to race, the formation lap beginning in just a little over fifteen minutes.
After zipping up his racesuit, the McLaren driver approaches her with open arms, and his hands find her waist rather quickly. The action is familiar to her now, and yet it still sends shivers up her spine.
"Any final words for me before I get into the car?" He asks, tracing circles on the sides of her body.
Bianca puts her hands around his neck. "Do your best. Don't be harsh on yourself. Don't crash," she lists simply, giving him a kiss on the cheek after she finds herself on her tippy-toes.
"Sounds easy enough," Lando shrugs, returning the kiss by planting one on her forehead. "Wish me luck?"
She quirks her head to the side, her gaze never leaving the features of Lando's face that she saw as her own museum of art. "You don't need it, but, good luck anyway," she says, pulling him in for a hug that he reciprocates with ease.
When they let go, it feels like ripping two pieces of velcro off of one another, a tearing sound echoing through the McLaren garage as she yearns for his touch once more.
Lando turns to get in the car, but twirls right back around to approach her one final time.
"Is it too early for an 'I love you'? We haven't discussed that yet."
Bianca's eyes go wide at the question, but it's not long until her eyes soften as they typically did whenever she and Lando spoke.
With the shaking of her head from side to side, she responds, "It's never too early," and she says it because it's true. Why wait to express such things like love?
The driver beams, holding her cheek. "Great. I love you," he says, as if the three words were something he had been saying to her since they began their little adventure side-by-side; and maybe he had been in his head, because Bianca knows that she's said it to him multiple times when he couldn't hear her say it. A small whisper of admiration in silence while they nap next to one another in bed, or a thought passing through her brain when he flashes her that damned smile of his.
The singer nods, the faintest sound of laughter leaving her mouth. "I love you too."
The phrase rolls off easily, no struggle or hesitation from Bianca in the slightest because it was just too easy being in love with Lando, and she enjoyed the experience thoroughly and wholeheartedly with every breathe she took.
Lando smiles and gives her another kiss, on her neck this time with swift movement, and it's not sensual or seductive like how those types of kisses tended to be. It was just pure and quick, with joy and admiration mixed into its intentions, like a sign of devotion above all else—a kiss just to kiss her, because he was happy to love her and her alone.
With a small giggle, Bianca watches as Lando slips on his helmet and climbs into the new and improved McLaren car for the 2024 season. The special livery for this race was gorgeous, the new look taking their standard papaya orange, and adding lined glittery silver accents with a sprinkle of black and white throughout. Lando's number '4' shimmers in the Bahrain sun that infiltrated the garage, and Bianca can't help but think about how the number '4' had changed meaning for her forever.
As Lando's car pulls out of the garage with guidance from the McLaren staff, her eyes follow the build until it's out of view and off to the race, engine singing through the pit.
This is something she'll never get tired of, she thinks—the excitement of watching Lando go off and go do the thing he loves most. It was almost akin to watching her team set up the stage for a performance, the adrenaline taking over her veins even if nothing has begun just yet.
Eventually, her eyes begin to drift towards the familiar balcony of the Paddock Club's lookout, looking at the influencers flaunting their champagne and the view ahead of them, while others seemed more genuinely excited to be at the race.
She lets a small curl of the lips form while she blocks the sun aiming for her eyes, reminiscing about the first time she had been up there just a few years ago via an invite from Charles when their friendship was still young and developing.
As she scans the different people relaxing on the Paddock Club balcony, Bianca's eyes find one person in particular, and her blood runs cold in her veins, even with the sun beating down on her face.
It's a man, wearing sunglasses and a black short-sleeve, showing off his collection of tattoos that snake their way up his arms. One of the tattoos is a faded blue, an ugly almost-aqua color that screams against the man's pale skin.
It's the same blue she used to hear complaints about during dinner time when all she wanted to do was finish her meal.
The man pushes his sunglasses up to his head, and he scans the pit, as if he was looking for someone, and Bianca backs away from the garage entrance with a quickness she's never moved with before.
Jackson was here at the race, and she never thought she'd ever have to think that sort of sentence before in her life.
He always hated Formula 1, always nagging her about how there was nothing special about the sport beyond her friendship with Charles—a friendship he always put into question over the littlest arguments and smallest details.
He couldn't have been here for the entertainment. There's no way, with how much he used to complain about the engines ruining his eardrums despite his constant, constant playing of his scratchy electric guitar and gritty notes always ruining hers.
It was always something with him, and it was always something connected to her.
From that, she knew, she knew that Jackson had to be here to see her; maybe her and Lando considering the jabs and posts she's seen make the rounds on her social medias.
The thought makes Bianca feel like she's gonna vomit something wicked, but she doesn't have the time, as one of the McLaren staff members present her with a pair of orange headphones just for her.
"Here, Bianca," she says kindly, taking no note of the stress in her eyes since there was still so much to prepare for before the race officially starts.
"Oh, thank you," Bianca acknowledges, grabbing the pair with a shaky hand.
After she places the headset over her ears, the world around her goes quiet, and she tries to find a seat near the television screens without collapsing.
Today is Lando's first race of the season, and all Bianca can think about is how she might die if she sees Jackson in person again.
"I BELIEVE that's P2, Lando. P2. Well done, mate," His strategist commends in his ears, and Lando pumps his fists in the air.
"Yes! Good job everyone, great job," he compliments. "Good start to the season!"
"Absolutely, mate. Zak is very happy with you."
"And my wife?"
He hears a small chuckle on the other end of the radio. "Cheering with the rest of the team. Might have to buy her a papaya shirt so she'll blend in with us," he jokes, earning a laugh out of Lando.
"I'll have her borrow mine in Saudi!" He promises, waving to the crowds as he drives by.
When he parks in the P2 spot, he skips towards the group of McLaren staff that were awaiting his arrival, giving handshakes and hugs to everyone he sees, but the one person he was looking for...
Lando sees a woman to his far left, short with blonde hair waving her hands up high.
He almost trips on his way to give her a hug.
"Did you see me, Bianca?" Lando asks like a giddy child, voice slightly muffled by his helmet. "Was too fucking good!"
Bianca laughs with a nod and holds him tight, "Yes, Babe, I saw it!"
Lando pulls away from the hug and holds her hand in the air, but he quickly catches a glimpse of her eyes that look slightly red.
"You crying happy tears, Baby?"
Bianca pulls her hand away to wipe her face. "Yeah, yeah, don't worry! Go celebrate!"
He blinks, trying to reach for her again amidst back pats and people reaching for fist bumps. "Are you sure?"
"Yeah!" She reassures hastily. She begins to wave him forward with a smile. "Go get your trophy, Lani!"
There's a feeling, a thickness in the air in the middle of the excitement and adrenaline intoxicating the oxygen around.
He can't shake it.
Lando pulls Bianca into one final hug before moving to follow George and Max to the cooldown room, and even when he's discussing the race with his friends—about where their teammates placed or where the track gave them trouble—Lando is still thinking about Bianca's eyes.
They were red, a bit puffy around the edges with their blue hue that he loves so dearly slightly washed out.
She was crying before he even got to the last lap, surely, but why?
So, while he's spraying his friends with champagne, cackling while listening to George's complaints about champagne getting in his ears because that's really fucking funny, he reminds himself to ask Bianca how she's feeling back in the hotel room.
Priorities, of course.
Priorities.
NOTES!
consider this me manifesting for the 2024 season ++ sorry this chapter is honestly mediocre asf but WE MOVE
xoxo, cas