One stupid decision led to another. After a one-night stand with Charles Leclerc leaves you with feelings you’d rather not talk about, you turn to the safest person you know: George Russell. Your best friend. A man who genuinely believes he’s gay. What starts as a simple arrangement quickly spirals into something far more complicated. The entire paddock is convinced you’re dating. Neither of you can be bothered to correct them. Eventually, pretending becomes easier than explaining. Now you’re sharing hotel rooms, kissing for the cameras, and accidentally becoming Formula 1’s favorite couple. There’s just one problem. The relationship is fake. At least, it was supposed to be.