Chapter Text
It’s not that Oscar’s never been single.
It’s not like he came out of the womb with a wedding band on.
He didn’t even really start to date until he’d come to England. Not until he hit fifteen, when the growth spurt was starting to really take place, leaving him gangly and awkward. Always bumbling over words and blushing furiously when a girl came near. All the confidence he’d found behind the wheel, gone as soon as he caught the swish of a ponytail or the lingering scent of sweet, fruity body spray. Those little things making his body go rigid in all the wrong ways and forcing a stutter he’d never had before.
Frankly, it was a miracle that he’d managed to find a girl who’d looked past all that, someone who was even somewhat charmed by his dry humor and foreign accent. And certainly to find someone to date him and keep dating him after years of karting turned into years of junior category driving, turned into finally reaching Formula 1.
And it had been nice. More than nice. Oscar had been grateful to have found someone to love. To share his life with someone. To have found “The One” some of his friends or family had said.
And it was just nice to have someone by his side, Oscar thought. On his side, even. To have someone who knew him. Knew him before all the media training and being stopped in the street for autographs. Before the sly photos taken from hiding fans and online speculation of their relationship. Nice to feel like someone knew Oscar before he was Oscar Piastri.
Obviously, he’d loved Lily too. Adored her. When he’d signed his contract, he had been more than aware that a hefty sum of his new salary would be going towards a well-deserved diamond ring and luxurious wedding one day.
Or it should have been.
Because for all that reaching his dreams had given him. Given them. It had also taken.
Traveling around the world together is fun. Until the schedules don’t align, and it’s nothing but FaceTime calls for months on end.
Being in the paddock is fun. Until being an anonymous student turns into being a WAG, being forced to set aside time for studying into making sure you have the right clothes to wear, and saying the right things to stay in the hierarchy of drivers' girlfriends.
Winning is fun. Until it’s all you can think about. Until walls start coming up. Until the distance starts to feel just that bit colder and unmanageable.
Until it reached an end, Oscar hadn’t even thought to imagine was possible.
Honestly, he still isn’t sure when things started to nosedive. There was no big blowout fight. No cheating. No sudden change.
One day, they were lying in bed, tangled together and feeling like the outside world couldn’t touch the warm bubble they’d created with each other. And then another, it felt like there was an ocean between them, lying side by side in a bland hotel room, minds preoccupied by everything but each other.
And maybe that was the worst part. That Oscar hadn’t even realized it was happening. That’d he’s spent so much of last year thinking about himself. That he’d been too busy chasing his teammate and gluing together the public's crumbling image of him to notice the cracks.
Too busy to see it until he was being let go with a gentle softness he didn’t think he deserved.
So no - it’s not like he’s never been single before. He’s just never been single before like this. An actual adult - no school or spots or learning curves. A man’s body and a fully developed frontal lobe. A bank account he could have only dreamed of.
Oscar was no longer an anonymous student. He was Oscar Piastri. Formula One Driver.
No, Oscar’s never been single as a famous, well-known athlete.
Something most men would dream of.
To Oscar, it felt like a fate worse than losing the title.
----
If Oscar could have gotten away with Lando not knowing about the breakup, he would have.
Truthfully, he hates anyone at work knowing things about his personal life. He hated it before becoming famous, and he especially hates it now. Gossip accounts, the worst kind of vultures, hanging around for any bit of drama they can sink their claws into. If there was a sign of the death of the internet, it was F1 gossip accounts, filled more with dating rumors and baseless critiques of girlfriends than actual paddock rumors. Not that he cared much for silly season-eqsue speculation either. But, there was some substance in discussing if Max was gonna leave Redbull rather than if Gasly’s girlfriend had unfollowed him after another round of cheating rumors.
But Oscar has to tell McLaren. He’d rather Mark had done it - sent all the emails and messages, letting them know Oscar no longer needed a permanent guest pass. And that he would be showing up alone from now on in the paddock, and there should be no media inquiries about it.
But Mark had insisted that Oscar was an adult now and could handle dealing with a little fallout from his breakup. He’d meant it like a teaching lesson, but it felt like some sort of punishment,
“It’s not like it ended on bad terms, Oscar,” Mark had said over the phone, accent heavy and exasperated. “Besides, you’re not Lewis or something, dating some big star. People will understand that your childhood girlfriend didn’t last. Or they won’t even care at all.”
Well, that had been far from the truth.
Maybe for Andrea, who’d given him a grim, sorry smile before asking him about turn 12.
Or for Zak, who’d clapped him so hard on the back, Oscar thought he might have broken his shoulder.
But everyone else.
The McLaren PR team had given him a few minutes of sympathetic glances and sorry to hear thats, before the gears started turning. Having a girlfriend was good, showed that a driver could be romantic, dependable, and mature. Having a girlfriend in the McLaren garage meant more screen time. More exposure on social media. More buzz online when she shows up in the right clothes with the latest designer bag.
But having no girlfriend was better. That was something they could play with. Every rumor was an opportunity to get Oscar and McLaren on people’s minds. Every celebrity invited to the garage a chance to make a connection. Every photo or post a chance to make Oscar a heartthrob. Play into the fantasy that there was a chance with him.
The sort of thing they’d had with Lando, now something they could recreate with Oscar.
Or even worse. Because Lando was charming and flirty and a wild card at the best of times, but was riddled with a dating history of less than PR friendly models and talkative hookups.
But Oscar… Oscar had proven to be good in a long-term relationship. No messy breakups or blabbering exes. And that appealed to people. A good boy. A future husband and father type.
The polite pony to Lando’s bucking bronco.
“Let us know if you have anyone you might want to invite to the next race, Oscar,” one of the PR girls says, smiling bright and excited. “You know, McLaren has a far reach these days.”
Everything Oscar had been dreading.
“I think it’s still a bit soon,” Oscar says, rubbing at the back of his overheated neck, the fabric of his team polo starting to itch. A pit formed in his stomach at the thought of using the team, to what? Pimp him out to some B-list celebrity or influencer. “It hasn’t even been a full month yet, so maybe not.”
He watches the girl’s face drop a bit, and an embarrassed flush light up her cheeks.
“Oh, right,” she mutters. “Well, let me know if, uh, anything changes.”
He gives her a tight-lipped smile and is about to slip away when he hears him.
“What hasn’t been a month yet?” Both Oscar and the girl turn to see Lando strolling down the hospitality hallway. He’s dressed casually in loose-fitting jeans and a cream colored sweater that accents his tan skin and dark curls. A good-natured grin on his lips.
They speak at the same time.
“Nothing, Lando.”
“Oh, Oscar and Lily broke up.”
Lando’s brows lift as he takes in both of them.
“Shit,” the girl mutters, looking abashedly at Oscar. “Sorry, Oscar. I thought Lando already knew.”
Lando lets out a low whistle as Oscar feels like his heart sinks to his stomach. “Fuck, mate. Honestly?”
Oscar nods, his head and body starting to feel heavy. Especially under the weight of Lando’s wide, sympathetic gaze.
Oscar can take the pitying looks and tiptoeing from his mother and sisters or from Mark. But not from Lando. The last thing he wants is Lando Norris feeling sorry for him. He’d felt the weight of it enough in quiet Abu Dhabi hallways and across the aisles of private planes.
Lando glances towards the PR girl who’s still standing awkwardly between them, her hands wringing with nerves and steadily avoiding either of their eyes.
Oscar sighs. He tilts his head towards where their driver's rooms are and begins walking away. He hears the squeak of Lando’s sneakers following him until they reach his room. He wordlessly holds the door open and lets Lando in, despite his better judgment.
Lando, who immediately sinks into Oscar’s couch like he owns the room.
“Ok, what the fuck?” Lando asks once the door clicks shut. “You broke up with your girlfriend and didn’t tell me? A month ago?”
Oscar bristles a bit at the question.
It’s not like he and Lando are really friends. They’re… well, they’re something, but Oscar isn’t quite sure he would qualify it as friends. They get along. They laugh together. They work well together. He can mostly forget what happens on track once they’re out of the cars. But would he share something this personal with Lando? No. Do they hang out outside of work? No. Would they even speak if they weren’t on the same team? He’s honestly not sure.
But Lando’s looking at him like Oscar has just personally affronted him.
“It’s not a big deal,” Oscar says, aiming for nonchalant and missing by a mile. “We just grew apart.”
“Grew apart?” Lando says, trying the words in his mouth. “But weren’t you together for like 20 years?”
“Ten,” Oscar says, the word holding heavy on his tongue. A decade of loving someone. Of being part of a pair, and now what? What did he have to show for it? A dream to chase and a hollow feeling in his body he hadn’t been able to shake off yet. Hadn’t been able to shake off for months before they’d even ended it.
“Jesus, that’s like basically married,” Lando says, sounding slightly astonished as he slouches a bit in his seat. “Sorry to hear it, man. I can’t even imagine being with someone that long.”
Of course you can’t, Oscar thinks. Besides his unwavering dedication to McLaren and Max Fewtrell, Oscar isn’t sure Lando is capable of committing to much. Least of all a woman.
They never really talk about their relationships, but Oscar’s pretty sure Lando’s last serious relationship barely lasted a year, run amok by online bullshit rather than something Lando had done, but still. Other than that, he knows Lando has some multi-year on and off situationship going on, but they seemed to have been more off than on in the time Oscar has known him.
He’d met her once. She’d come to a race at the end of the season, dressed to the nines and with an unnaturally white, perfect smile. She’d been glowing in the garage, twirling around a pair of headphones and constantly rubbing Lando’s arm. Oscar hadn’t thought much of it. Or he’d tried not to.
She was pretty. Very. Hot, some guys might think. Even Oscar, despite practically having horse blinders on for his girlfriend since they’d started dating.
And she looked at Lando like he hung the stars.
Which wasn’t completely out of the ordinary.
Oscar is straight, not stupid. He knows Lando is good-looking. Or at least knows the general public thinks so. He might not be as classically handsome as Charles or Carlos, but he’s well-groomed and styled. His curls are kempt and boyish. He has a blinding smile and bright, intriguing eyes. He’s cool enough to earn respect from other men, but goofy enough to feel approachable to most women.
And he makes people laugh. Something Oscar is learning is high currency in the dating world.
So it doesn’t surprise Oscar that Lando dates beautiful models. His career is probably enough to get most people, but everything else gets him a beautiful woman who’s willing to drop everything and fly across the world to cheer for him in the garage.
One he won’t even commit to.
“Oi, Osc,” Lando had called to him, becking him over to where he and the woman were standing near a stack of tires, concealing them from the cameramen roaming around the paddock. “C’mere!”
Oscar remembers he had deeply not wanted to go over. A distinct feeling of wrongness had filled his belly, but the reason for it hadn’t appeared clear in his mind. Something that made him feel full of discomfort without clarity. Something he couldn’t pinpoint if it had started at Lando calling him over or when he’d first seen a flash of unfamiliar blonde hair beside Lando that morning.
Which made zero sense. It’s not like he didn’t talk to Lando or meet his guests. Or that he couldn’t be in the presence of a woman who wasn’t his girlfriend, like some puritanical freak.
But his body had felt heavy as he’d reluctantly walked over to them.
It seems she’d felt the same. Oscar noticed as her sharp nails seemed to stop their gentle trailing of Lando’s bicep and start to dig into his forearm where she’d wrapped her hand possessively. And her wide, almost unnaturally blue eyes turned from Lando to narrow and assess Oscar immediately.
He’d felt like a little boy being scrutinized by a schoolteacher.
All the warmth and adoration she’d directed towards Lando turned cold and disinterested as she took in Oscar. Though Lando had seemed not to notice as he introduced them.
“Nice to meet you,” Oscar said, extending his hand out.
“Sure,” she said, meeting him in a limp, lifeless handshake. A tight, displeased smile graced her full, rosy lips. All the beauty Oscar had observed from across the garage seemed to wilt like a dying flower the longer he stood in front of her. He dropped her hand and took an unconscious step closer to Lando.
“Second row lockout for us,” Lando grinned, oblivious to his guest’s less-than-enthusiastic response to Oscar. “Max and George won’t even know what’s coming for them.”
“Sure, mate,” Oscar hummed, giving Lando an eye roll and laying his dry sarcasm on thick. “Won’t know what’s coming for ‘em.”
“What?” Lando asked, offering Oscar a cheeky grin. “You don’t believe in yourself, Piastri?”
“I believe in myself just fine,” Oscar scoffed. “It’s someone else I’m not quite sure about.”
“Ossscahhh,” Lando bemoaned in a whiny tone that should have annoyed Oscar, but instead made him feel giddy with delight. The thrill of getting under Lando’s skin. As if that was a hard accomplishment. “You’re always bullying me.”
“Me?” Oscar asked incredulously, making Lando let out a soft, almost giggle-like laugh. “I’ve never in my life, mate.”
Lando’s lips set into a soft pout that Oscar studiously tried to ignore. “Then what do you call what you’re doing right now?”
“Bringing that ego back down to earth,” Oscar said dryly. Lando rolled his eyes lightly.
“I’m building confidence in us,” Lando tried, a playful grin replacing the pout. “Haven’t you ever heard of manifest- Jesus, babe!”
Oscar watched as Lando pulled his arm free from his date’s grasp. Frankly, Oscar had forgotten she was even there for a moment.
“Your nails were like digging into my arm,” Lando said, rubbing at where her fingers had been clasping his arm.
“Sorry,” she said, sounding not the least bit apologetic. “But you said you were gonna show me your steering wheel. And you’re just standing around talking.”
Lando turned to look her in the eyes for a long moment. His face, which had peered at Oscar with such jovial delight, turned blank immediately. It’s not a look Oscar could recall ever seeing on Lando, someone so unbiddenly expressive and open.
The silence stretched between the three of them, only the whirl of tools and the weight of Lando’s gaze on her filling the space.
“Fine,” Lando said after a minute, voice void of emotion and all the usual color of Lando’s everlasting joy, and positively. Something Oscar found annoying on the worst of days, he was suddenly missing, like a flower seeking the sun.
“Uh,” Oscar tried, ignoring how both of their eyes turned towards him. Lando’s getting back some of the warmth he’d seen before. And her’s turning into an icy glare. “I have some stuff to chat with Tom about. I should get back.”
He stiffly pointed his thumb towards his side of the garage, where Tom was inevitably busy going over data with someone else and not needing Oscar at all.
“Of course, Osc,” Lando said, gentle and warm. “Have a good race, mate.”
The soft upturn of Lando’s lip paired with her tight, pinched expression all but moved Oscar’s body for him.
“You too,” Oscar said quickly as he fled.
The entire interaction had wracked Oscar’s brain for hours after the race was over.
Confused and afraid he’d done something wrong, Oscar relayed the story to his sister a few days later over the phone.
“I doubt you did anything wrong,” she’d said. “She probably just wants to lock Lando down and didn’t want his attention away from her. An invite to a public work thing? That’s like gold for a girl in a situationship. Like about to become a serious relationship type shit.”
“That’s stupid,” Oscar said, plainly. “If they want to be in a relationship, then why don’t they just say so?”
“Ah, the life of a man in a long-term relationship,” she’d laughed. “If it were that simple, we wouldn’t even have the world situationship. It’s not about how you feel, stupid. It’s about not knowing how the other person feels.”
“But if everyone said how they felt, then the issue would be resolved.”
She hummed. “Do you always say exactly how you feel all the time, Oscar?”
Oscar thought about it for a moment as he paced the length of his living room. “No, of course not.”
“See?” she said. Oscar could perfectly envision her rolling her eyes at him. “Plus, it’s Lando Norris. Isn’t he kinda a manwhore these days? How does she know he isn’t inviting like a ton of other girls to come watch him in the garage?”
Well, she didn’t know. But Oscar did. For all the rumors and talk of Lando partying and dating around, he had not seen Lando invite anyone else to a race besides his friends and family. No other girls - girlfriend or situatonship - had sat on Lando’s side.
And after that encounter, Oscar had never seen her back in the garage again.
---
“It’s not a big deal,” Oscar says, meaning he doesn’t want to make it a big deal. He leans back against the massage table in his room.
“Not a big deal?” Lando says, as if Oscar has personally insulted his mother. “Don’t you know what this means?”
“No?”
“It means you’re single for the first time since I’ve known you,” Lando points out. “And like in your life.”
“I’ve been single before,” Oscar argues.
“No, you’ve been a child before,” Lando says, exasperated. “You’ve never been single like this. Like, mate, you’re an F1 driver and you’re rich and shit. It’s awesome.”
Oscar rolls his eyes. Of course, Lando thinks that. A man, who will commit his life to a team even when they were a sinking ship, but can’t commit to a person, would think that way. Oscar often feels younger and more inexperienced compared to Lando, but he has him beat on relationships and emotional maturity.
“It doesn’t feel so awesome right now,” Oscar says, a hint of bitterness seeping into his tone. It’s so easy for Lando to say all these things. To act so cavalier when he’s never known the other side. The having someone to be there for. To have someone who’ll always pick up the phone at the end of a long day. To have someone who knows you and your needs before you even know them yourself. And to be able to reciprocate that tenfold.
Still, Lando seems to understand a bit.
His eyes widen a fraction before he stands and makes his way over to Oscar. He claps his hand softly onto Oscar’s shoulder and squeezes, something Oscar attempts not to flinch away from.
“You’re right,” Lando concedes. “I’m being a bit of a dickhead. It’s still fresh, right?”
Oscar nods, and Lando squeezes his shoulder again.
“Sorry, mate,” Lando says. “I know breakups fucking suck. I imagine even worse when you’ve been together for that long.”
“Thanks, man,” Oscar says, leaning his body out of Lando’s grasp.
“But I promise you with time, being single is ah-mazing,” Lando sing-songs. “And we’re gonna be single together. I can’t wait to show you how great it is.”
Oscar raises his brow, fixing Lando with an incredulous look.
“With time, of course,” Lando adds.
“Are you even really single?” Oscar asks, more curious than he should be. “What about…?”
Lando shrugs. “Didn’t work out for us. Think she and I just…uh… saw things differently.”
“Ah.”
“But whatever about me,” Lando says. “This is about you! Do not worry, Osco. I am going to become your single life guru. I am going to show you the path of freedom. Young pa-ga-won or whatever.”
“I think it’s Padawan,” Oscar supplies automatically. “Also, I thought you hated Star Wars.”
“Well, I can’t be named Lando and not watch it at least once out of curiosity,” he says, rolling his eyes. “Don’t try to derail from what we’re talking about.”
“I’m not,” Oscar tries, fully aware that he is.
“You are,” Lando says, lifting his brow. “But that’s alright. I know you’re fragile right now.”
“Ok, well, I wouldn’t say fragile,” Oscar says, even if that word seems a little too apt.
“You’re mending,” Lando says, lifting a hand up to stop Oscar from trying to refute his words. “Only natural when you go through a breakup. No worries, man. I just know that under that calm demeanor, you’re devastated. I know your tells, Oscar.”
“What tells?”
“When you’re ready, I am here for you,” Lando says, ignoring Oscar speaking entirely. He sounds so earnest, it almost makes Oscar believe him. “Once all the moping around and shit is over and you’re ready to fuck shit up, of course.”
“What?” Oscar tries, confused about how they even got to this.
“We are going to have so much fun.”
“Lando, I really don’t think that-,”
“I’m serious, Oscar,” Lando says, turning to grip Oscar by both of his shoulders and making their eyes meet. “You are way too young and hot to be wasting all your potential on one girl.”
Well, Oscar thinks if there was one girl to “waste” his life on, then he certainly had the best one, but that isn’t the part of Lando’s statement that really captures his attention.
“You think I’m hot?” Oscar asks instead, the question tumbling out without permission. An immediate flush starts to heat his cheeks up as Lando fixes him with a strange, unreadable expression.
“You serious?” Lando asks after a moment, searching Oscar’s face for something.
Oscar is about to deflect before Lando makes his question rhetorical.
“Oscar, you’re so fucking hot.”
The words send a different sort of flush through Oscar’s body. Different than the embarrassed pinkness in his cheeks. No, this makes his skin feel tight and prickly. Makes his heart rate faster for some reason. Makes his throat feel thick.
“I’m alright,” Oscar says instead, letting out a hollow laugh.
Truthfully, Oscar’s never felt that special in the looks department. Lily had thought he was handsome, or at least she’d said so. And Oscar figured if someone as beautiful as her still wanted to be with him, then he couldn’t be half bad looking. But he knows that, compared to Charles or Lewis or Lando, he might as well just be any other average-looking white guy on the street. And he was ok with that. Ok with being “boyfriend” cute or decent enough looking. Had never felt the need to be hot. Or sexy or anything like that.
Even among his own fans, Oscar felt that the athletic body and the fame built up his own physical attractiveness stocks. Surely, if he were just some guy on the street, no one would be paying him any mind. Or calling him hot.
But something about Lando saying he’s hot … makes Oscar feel a little like it might be true.
Lando, who’s famous and built in his own right, and isn’t affected by that sort of thing anymore.
“You’re more than alright, Oscar,” Lando says, and his voice is thick with sincerity and something Oscar can’t quite parse. “Like, look at your fucking jaw. Actually, your whole bone structure. And you’ve got a six pack for fuck’s sake.”
There’s a sort of breathlessness to Lando’s voice that Oscar can’t help but match.
“You have abs too,” Oscar tries.
“Not like you,” Lando says. “I mean your back too. It’s huge.”
“You can thank my trainer for that, then.”
“And the smile, who do I thank for that?” Lando asks. Oscar pointedly fights off said smile.
He coughs and shifts back from Lando, who doesn’t even realize he’d still been holding Oscar’s shoulders, long fingers tracing the shape of his muscles. He draws his hands and lets them hang limply at his sides.
“Sorry,” Lando says, sheepishly. “I just mean to say that you shouldn’t doubt yourself, Oscar. There are plenty of girls out there that’ll be into you.”
“Right,” Oscar says, wracking his brain for something else to say. “Thanks, mate. For the ego boost.”
“Anytime,” Lando says distantly, before he seems to snap back into himself. “I gotta hype you up if I’m gonna be your wingman.”
“I don’t think I ever asked for that.”
Lando laughs, a bright grin settling on his lips. “You didn’t have to! That’s the best part. I might be shit at relationships, but I’m a fucking pro at being single. I’m gonna rock your goddamn world, Oscar.”
Oscar grimaces at that. He has some idea of what Lando’s single world is probably like.
“I’m not much for clubs or hookups,” Oscar admits, making Lando tsk.
“You weren’t much for clubs and hookups,” Lando corrects. “You will be. It’s a whole new world out there, Oscar. And it’s fucking awesome. I’m gonna show you. You won’t find a better guide to the single life than me.”
“Lando, I really don’t thin-,”
“Oscar,” Lando stops him, a determined look in his eyes. “I know this is all fresh, and I’m sure you’re still hurting, but I just want to help you out. You haven’t been dating or single like this ever, and it’s a lot. The fame and the attention. It dials everything up. It’s hard to navigate when you’re looking… for love and shit.”
Lando tries to make the last part sound like it's a stupid thought, but Oscar can hear the bit of yearning in his tone. Like love and shit has been doing its job of avoiding Lando, not the other way around.
“Why, though?” Oscar asks, instead of opening that can of worms. “Why help me? I mean, we’re not even really frien-, uh I mean. We don’t usually talk about dating and stuff with each other.”
“Do I need a reason?” Lando asks, laughing as Oscar raises his brow. “I don’t know, Oscar. Maybe I just like helping my rookie out.”
“I haven’t been your rookie in a long time,” Oscar points out.
“You’ll always be my rookie,” Lando says simply, leaving no room for argument. “I’ll always wanna help you. I’ll always wanna show you the ropes. Help you when you start to feel like you’re drowning. Even if I shouldn’t.”
It’s so honest and simple, it stuns Oscar for a moment.
Lando sighs. “Just… when you’re ready to get back out there and stuff, let me know. I want to help you, Oscar. You deserve to have some fun and enjoy your life.”
It’s something he’s heard from everyone in his life. His team. His family. The mental health coach Mark got him after last year. But, somehow, it sounds so real and true when it comes from Lando. He feels the words settle deep in his chest. It makes him yearn for it to be true. To just fully enjoy himself without the stress or guilt that’s been clouding his head for the last year or so.
“Thank you, Lando,” Oscar says sincerely. “I….I’d appreciate your help. When I’m ready, I’ll let you know, and we can…try it out. The single life thing.”
“Mint,” Lando agrees. “I won’t let you down. Promise I’ll be the best single life tour guide you’ve ever had.”
“That sounds dangerous,” Oscar laughs.
“It is,” Lando says. “Your dick is gonna get so wet.”
“Jesus Christ.”
Oscar’s regretting this already, but he can’t shake the smile that’s on his face. Not when Lando’s looking at him so bright and excited.
“This is gonna be so fun,” Lando says, gathering himself and making towards the door. “I have to change now for media, but Oscar, this is about to be the dawn of a new age.”
“Age of what? Me?”
“Duh, welcome to the age of Oscar on the prowl,” Lando declares, offering Oscar a big, toothy grin. “I’m fucking buzzing about it, mate,”
Well, at least someone is, Oscar thinks.
“Single Oscar,” Lando says excitedly before he slips out the door, leaving Oscar alone with the aftertaste of their conversation and his own promise.
It’s like the excitement and buzz disappeared out the door with Lando.
A sense of dread fills Oscar worse than when he and Lily had sat down and decided they were going to break up. That had felt heavy and sad, but not entirely unexpected. It had felt long overdue.
But this.
This… this felt like Oscar was about to fall headfirst into something that could swallow him whole. Something he wasn’t sure he could handle.
Fucking hell, Oscar thinks. What have I signed up for with Lando?