i forget you aren't mine - lando norris - Chapter 11: Chapter 11
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"i forget you aren't mine / it's impossible to acclimate..."
lando's sitting on the couch in his hotel room, headphones still wrapped around his neck.
the race is over. the team's gone out to celebrate. but he's stuck here — still replaying the moment from earlier when he saw her name pop up on his phone.
her message.
hey.
simple. just like she always was.
but somehow it's more than enough to stop his heart for a second.
he reads it again. and again.
because, somehow, it still feels surreal.
like a dream he's been living in for months — she's talking to him again.
he feels a sharp pang in his chest, the old ache of missing her settling deeper.
he hasn't really had time to process it all. the silence between them was too loud. the distance felt too final. too permanent.
but now? now it's different.
he taps out a reply — the words feeling wrong, not enough to match the weight of everything he's been carrying.
i miss you too.
he stares at the screen, waiting for something. anything.
it's like a switch has been flipped, but now he doesn't know how to turn it back off.
how to go back to pretending this is just about racing.
there's no reply.
minutes pass.
an hour.
and then, finally, the text comes through.
but it's not her.
it's not the reply he's been waiting for.
it's a notification from the team about his upcoming PR appearances.
he sighs. clicks it open. glances at the schedule.
but it's like he can't focus. his eyes are pulled back to her message. i miss you too.
he can't help it.
he picks up his phone again.
starts typing:
we need to talk. about everything.
but then he stops.
backs out.
deletes it.
instead, he locks the phone and places it on the table.
leans back, staring at the ceiling.
his thoughts are tangled — about the race, about the teammates, about the interviews that always ask the same questions. What's next, Lando? What's your game plan?
he doesn't have an answer.
not for them.
and definitely not for her.
his fingers twitch, almost reaching for the phone again.
but he doesn't.
he gets up, paces around the room.
there's too much space, too much silence.
he can't settle. can't think straight. it's like the absence of her is filling every corner of the room.
filling every corner of his mind.
finally, after what feels like forever, he picks up the phone again.
types:
can you talk?
and presses send.
he waits.
and waits.
it's funny.
how long he used to spend waiting for her to reply.
how it was always worth it.
how he'd wait hours, days, sometimes, for just a few words.
but now?
now, he can't stop checking his screen.
and then it pings.
one new message.
it's from her.
but she's not responding to him directly.
instead, she's typing something different.
i saw your teammate today. he said you miss me.
lando's heart skips.
he bites his lip, staring at the screen.
does she know? does she even know how much he's been thinking about her? about them?
he's been holding himself back.
he's been pretending to be fine.
but maybe... maybe she's been holding herself back too.
he finally types back, almost desperate to close the distance.
i miss you. more than you know. i just... i didn't want to hurt you more with everything that's been going on. it's been... crazy.
he presses send before he can think too much.
his hands are shaking slightly. but he doesn't care.
this is it.
and then, again, he waits.
she doesn't reply immediately.
but that's okay.
maybe he just needed to say it. to put it out there in the universe. to show that he still cares, even if he's been too busy to show it properly.
it's only an hour later when she finally responds.
but when she does, it's like the world shifts again.
it's been weird without you. not hearing from you. not seeing you. i miss your voice. i miss... everything.
lando reads the message over and over, letting the words sink in.
because now, it feels real again.
the possibility of them.
but there's still a lot they need to work through.
a lot of silence to break.
a lot of time to make up for.
and lando knows it won't be easy.
that they're not just picking up where they left off.
but the fact that she's still here?
that she's still thinking about him?
it's enough to hold onto.
he types:
can we try again?
and waits.
this time, when her reply comes, it's different.
i think we should. but we need to be honest with each other. no more games.
lando smiles.
it's the first real smile he's had in months.
and it feels right.
because this... this could be the beginning of something again.
a second chance.
he texts back:
i'm ready for that. whenever you are.
lando's sitting on the couch in his hotel room, headphones still wrapped around his neck.
the race is over. the team's gone out to celebrate. but he's stuck here — still replaying the moment from earlier when he saw her name pop up on his phone.
her message.
hey.
simple. just like she always was.
but somehow it's more than enough to stop his heart for a second.
he reads it again. and again.
because, somehow, it still feels surreal.
like a dream he's been living in for months — she's talking to him again.
he feels a sharp pang in his chest, the old ache of missing her settling deeper.
he hasn't really had time to process it all. the silence between them was too loud. the distance felt too final. too permanent.
but now? now it's different.
he taps out a reply — the words feeling wrong, not enough to match the weight of everything he's been carrying.
i miss you too.
he stares at the screen, waiting for something. anything.
it's like a switch has been flipped, but now he doesn't know how to turn it back off.
how to go back to pretending this is just about racing.
there's no reply.
minutes pass.
an hour.
and then, finally, the text comes through.
but it's not her.
it's not the reply he's been waiting for.
it's a notification from the team about his upcoming PR appearances.
he sighs. clicks it open. glances at the schedule.
but it's like he can't focus. his eyes are pulled back to her message. i miss you too.
he can't help it.
he picks up his phone again.
starts typing:
we need to talk. about everything.
but then he stops.
backs out.
deletes it.
instead, he locks the phone and places it on the table.
leans back, staring at the ceiling.
his thoughts are tangled — about the race, about the teammates, about the interviews that always ask the same questions. What's next, Lando? What's your game plan?
he doesn't have an answer.
not for them.
and definitely not for her.
his fingers twitch, almost reaching for the phone again.
but he doesn't.
he gets up, paces around the room.
there's too much space, too much silence.
he can't settle. can't think straight. it's like the absence of her is filling every corner of the room.
filling every corner of his mind.
finally, after what feels like forever, he picks up the phone again.
types:
can you talk?
and presses send.
he waits.
and waits.
it's funny.
how long he used to spend waiting for her to reply.
how it was always worth it.
how he'd wait hours, days, sometimes, for just a few words.
but now?
now, he can't stop checking his screen.
and then it pings.
one new message.
it's from her.
but she's not responding to him directly.
instead, she's typing something different.
i saw your teammate today. he said you miss me.
lando's heart skips.
he bites his lip, staring at the screen.
does she know? does she even know how much he's been thinking about her? about them?
he's been holding himself back.
he's been pretending to be fine.
but maybe... maybe she's been holding herself back too.
he finally types back, almost desperate to close the distance.
i miss you. more than you know. i just... i didn't want to hurt you more with everything that's been going on. it's been... crazy.
he presses send before he can think too much.
his hands are shaking slightly. but he doesn't care.
this is it.
and then, again, he waits.
she doesn't reply immediately.
but that's okay.
maybe he just needed to say it. to put it out there in the universe. to show that he still cares, even if he's been too busy to show it properly.
it's only an hour later when she finally responds.
but when she does, it's like the world shifts again.
it's been weird without you. not hearing from you. not seeing you. i miss your voice. i miss... everything.
lando reads the message over and over, letting the words sink in.
because now, it feels real again.
the possibility of them.
but there's still a lot they need to work through.
a lot of silence to break.
a lot of time to make up for.
and lando knows it won't be easy.
that they're not just picking up where they left off.
but the fact that she's still here?
that she's still thinking about him?
it's enough to hold onto.
he types:
can we try again?
and waits.
this time, when her reply comes, it's different.
i think we should. but we need to be honest with each other. no more games.
lando smiles.
it's the first real smile he's had in months.
and it feels right.
because this... this could be the beginning of something again.
a second chance.
he texts back:
i'm ready for that. whenever you are.
End of i forget you aren't mine - lando norris Chapter 11. Continue reading Chapter 12 or return to i forget you aren't mine - lando norris book page.