by A. J. Logan
He quickly tamps it down, covering his rage with a smug smirk as he takes a step closer. “I’ll be driving into that pussy later tonight.”
The visceral image that floods my head doesn’t allow me to mask my disgust—or jealousy—but in the end, I have a feeling he won’t be going anywhere near her from that show he put on earlier. “Are you sure about that?” He’s not, otherwise his pitiful ass wouldn’t feel so threatened at every moment.
“Just watch and see. You can hang around, hoping for a shot, but she will always come back to me. You’ll never be able to compete with me,” he smugly looks to my car then back to me, “on the track or off.”
“I’m sure we’ll find out soon enough … on both counts.” I’ll enjoy handing his ass to him on the track and even more off. Someone needs to put this pretentious prick in his place, and I’ll gladly do the honors.
“Tomorrow night. If you can even make it through preliminaries with that, I’ll enjoy every second of whipping your ass all over the track, then taking my girl out for a victory lap.”
Fuck, I’m going to enjoy this more than I should for so many reasons. “I’ll be here.”
“If you get scared, just crawl back into the hole you crawled out of. No one would blame you for not showing. We’d actually understand, given the situation.”
“Wishful thinking.”
“Whoa, no one told me the party was over here!” Bryce slaps me on the shoulder, turning to Kyle who is less than amused. “Why the sourpuss face, champ?”
“Tomorrow,” Kyle says, taking a moment to attempt one more intimidating look before walking away to join a group surrounding his precious ZR1.
“What did you do to poke the bear?” Bryce snickers as we watch the group swarm Kyle, all talking and laughing while Kyle keeps a pissy stare directed at me.
“Nothing,” I say flatly, pushing off my car.
“Damn. Well, at least you’ve got the mind game part accomplished. Now bring your driving skills.”
“Not a problem.” It’s been a play Bryce and I have made over the years. Racing isn’t about the fastest car or best driver, sometimes it’s as big of a mental battle as a physical one. Because when you’re not in the right headspace, you make stupid, deadly decisions. Ones that could cost a life.
“Are you driving the STI?”
“Yep.”
“Good choice,” Bryce agrees. Because he knows what’s under the hood. Unlike Kyle who judges everything only from its superficial appearance. Once again, a massive misstep on his part. I know better than anyone, nothing is ever how it appears on the surface.
12
Sadie
Why did I arrive early? Now I’m sitting in government class, trying to jot down some notes, willing myself not to look over my shoulder every time someone enters the room. There’s a moment of regret that I didn’t look back when I hear a familiar voice beside me.
“Morning, babe,” Kyle says, stepping in front of me, taking a seat in the chair next to me—Willow’s seat to be exact.
“Class is about to start. You really need to go.” I resume my notes.
“I’m in this class.”
My hand stops mid-stroke as I slowly look over to him, noting a satisfied grin on his face. “What are you talking about?”
“I figured we could spend some extra time together, maybe be study buddies or something.”
In our freshman year, and even before that in high school, we’ve never been study buddies, so it’s not exactly something I expected Kyle to come up with. “No. We’re not going to be study buddies or anything else. Do you even remember last night?”
“Yeah,” he says softly, a look of what is maybe regret on his face. “I’m sorry. I was hurt and humiliated because you pushed me away.”
“So, it’s my fault.”
“No, it’s not,” Willow says as she stands beside me. “Why are you in my seat, Kyle?”
“I switched into the class. Maybe you can join our study group. Andrew and Parker too, one big happy family.”
Is he seriously delusional? Looking over at his smiling face, I get confirmation. “We aren’t in a study group. You shouldn’t have switched into this class. You always said we shouldn’t take the same classes so we could make our own friends and meet new people. Now you’ve signed up for my class and are wanting to study together?” Taking a deep breath, I look over to him. I wanted to do this in a more private setting but Kyle never allows me to do anything as planned. “I can’t do this anymore.”
“What, school? We can take a day off if you want to get out of here.”
“No. This,” I say, motioning between the two of us as I hear Willow mumble an encouragement to finally do what I should’ve done long ago.
“Sadie, I said I was sorry. When you did that last night, it just made me worry I was losing you. I can’t lose you. We’ve been together forever.”
“It’s not only about last night. It’s about everything. You said it yourself: I’ve changed, and I think you have too.”
“No. I don’t agree with this.”
“It’s not up to you.”
He glances around the room, and his jaw muscle clenches as he looks back to me. “Don’t do this to us.”
“There is no us. At least that’s how it feels.”
“All these years have to count for something. Even if you don’t believe it know, we’re meant to be together. Let’s just talk about it later.”
“No. I think we both know this has been a long time coming.” I hope he will just get up and leave. I’m not sure what he thought switching into this class would accomplish, but it’s had the opposite effect than he intended.
The seats are filling up around us, and I’m worried Kyle will make a scene. He’s actually taking it better than I expected. Usually, his temper gets the best of him, and he blurts out his problems for the world to hear.
“No, I didn’t see this coming,” he says with a pained voice. I almost feel sorry for him, but I know this is better for both of us, and to my surprise and relief, he says, “Can we at least be friends? You’re not planning to completely just cut me out of your life, right?”
Yeah, that was kind of the plan. How, I’m not sure. How do you cut off someone who has been such a major part of your life for so many years? Friends? I doubt he can do friends. I doubt I can do friends after dating for so long, but it’s a better response than I figured I’d get, so I’ll take it for now. “Yes, we can be friends.”
He places his arm over my shoulder, pulling me into a hug as he whispers, “I’ll take anything I can get because I’ll always love you, Sadie.”
Yeah. No. Friends isn’t going to work. “Kyle, I—”
“What the fuck is this about?” Kyle asks, eyeing the coffee that Dylan places on my notebook. When I look up and lock eyes with Dylan, he’s not paying any attention to Kyle—it’s as if he’s not there at all; he’s totally focused on me. Silently, Dylan takes his seat in the row across from me while Kyle glares at him.
That’s why. He knew Dylan was in this class. Kyle isn’t here for any other reason. Friends definitely isn’t gonna work. Nothing about this situation will. “It’s only coffee.”
But it’s not only coffee. I can lie to myself all I want but Dylan is slowly chiseling away at my wall. I want to believe there is something more to him. The small gestures say he’s more than just his attractive face and charming demeanor. He puts thought into something other than himself, unlike Kyle, who still hasn’t given up.
Leaning over, keeping his voice low, he says, “Is that why you’re trying to dump me?”
“No, it’s really not.” And it isn’t. Even if Dylan hadn’t popped into the picture with his mystifying presence, Kyle and I have been on a miserable, dead-end path for a long time.
“We’ll talk about it later,” he says, leaning over and kissing me on the cheek. I blanch at the unwanted affection, and it takes everything I have not to deck him in the nose, especially when I turn to face him.
Kyle is shifted forward, his attention on someone past me, not that it takes a genius to figure out who.
Confirmation. There’s absolutely nothing to talk about, but I’ll save that detail for after class—not that he’d hear me anyways since he isn’t paying me any attention. I’ve seen Kyle respond not so well to people, but this seems more like an unhealthy obsession.
Fortunately, the professor steps up to the podium and starts to lecture, forcing Kyle to lean back in his seat. There’s no way I’ll make it through the semester with him sitting next to me three days a week.
Against my will, I glance over to the left, expecting to see Dylan’s arrogant expression or even his mischievous grin. Instead, I’m met with a brutal stare, sending a sinking feeling to the pit of my stomach. Do all guys have some idiot switch that flips at the drop of a hat?
Facing the front of the classroom, I halfway focus on the professor as the class painfully drags on. If this is a preview of the semester, it’s going to feel like forever. The class finally ends, and I grab my things and head out, not waiting a moment longer to escape the suffocating room.
“I’m proud of you,” Willow says, falling into step beside me as we hurry to Coyote Café.
“For what?”
“For finally dumping Dipshit.”
I keep walking, not responding since I’m sure he didn’t get the message. I’m not looking forward to having that conversation again.
“Hey, are you gonna be okay?” Willow asks. “I know he’s a dick, but I get that y’all have been together for years, and everything with your mom.”
“Yeah. I’m fine.”
“Sadie,” Willow says as I look to her. “I’m here if you want to talk about it. Even if it’s a toxic relationship, sometimes it’s hard to move on.”
“I’m good. I promise. I just can’t believe he switched into the class. It seems like now that I’ve made the decision to end things, he’s all of a sudden interested in putting effort into the relationship.”
“Do you think it would’ve made a difference if he’d tried sooner?”
“No.” I shake my head, recalling his sleezy move from last night. “It’s bad enough that he kissed some random girl, but even still, it didn’t bother me. My main concern is that I still don’t care. It should make me feel something if I cared about him like I should.”
“Yeah. I think it should too, so at least you know you’re making the right decision for many reasons.”
“Agreed.” I follow Willow in to the café, scanning for any familiar faces that I thankfully don’t spot.
“Coffee is my treat today,” Willow says, setting her bag on the table as I sit in my regular chair. She hurries off to the counter to order, and I glance around, lost in thought by the time she arrives with two coffees in hand.
“So,” Willow says, setting down a paper to-go cup in front of me. “What are you doing tonight?”
“Um … studying and sleeping. I have the early shift tomorrow morning. Why?”
“Oh, I was gonna see if you’d come out to the Dome tonight.”
“Not so sure that’s on my agenda.” I grab my notebook and planner out of my bag, set them on the table, then begin writing when I feel a set of eyes on me. Looking up, I find Willow staring at me with a smile. “What?”
“There’s someone new racing tonight.” She bites the inside of her lip as I tilt my head to the side, waiting for her to reveal what has her so giddy. “Dylan.” She waits a beat, then two. “Don’t you want to see that?”
“I don’t know.” Yes. Yes, I do, even though I shouldn’t. “Maybe I’ll go for a little while.”
“Good.” Willow claps her hands together, smiling at her small victory. She shouldn’t be too proud though, that didn’t take much convincing—the name dropping was enough.
“I doubt anything good will come out of it.”
“You never know,” Willow says, glancing over my shoulder. “Parker thinks Kyle will still win, but I can hope. Dylan’s beat out Kyle in other areas thus far.”
“And what areas might those be?” I ask, waiting for a response that Willow seems to enjoy withholding.
Parker appears at our table, bends down in front of Willow, gives her a lingering kiss, then drops into the seat next to her. “Hey, Sadie.”
“Hey.” I give him a slight smile then focus back on his girlfriend. “What areas?”
“I think you already know,” Willow says, leaning her head on Parker’s shoulder as he looks between the two of us.
“Know what?” Parker asks.
“How Kyle is going to get his ass handed to him tonight,” Willow says, giving me a wink.
“Psh. Not a chance. I haven’t seen Dylan race yet, but I doubt Kyle will be dethroned tonight. In fact, so far all the bets say your boy won’t make it to the final round to even have the opportunity.”
“He’s not my boy,” I say to Parker. He doesn’t look convinced, but nods at me anyway. “He’s not.”
“Well, he can be my boy because I’m placing my money on him scrubbing the pavement clean with Kyle.”
“Your boy, huh?” Parker says, nibbling on Willow’s neck before his hand drops to her side, tickling her as she squirms against him. “I’ll remember that.”
“Please do,” Willow says, then looks over at me. “Care to place a wager on your boy?”
“Nope. I’m not even sure I’ll be there.”
“I’d bet against that.” Willow laughs, unbothered by my irritated glare.
Yeah, I’d bet against that too. I know I’ll be there, but there’s no point in jumping at the chance to act like an eager pit bunny. It’s bad enough I want to go. Hopefully, I can just watch the races and not have to deal with Kyle. My guess is he’ll be so focused on Dylan racing, I won’t have to worry about any unwanted repeats of last night. I can hope, but I won’t be placing any bets on that one either.
13
Dylan
“There really isn’t much competition. The GT350 isn’t stock, but it shouldn’t be a problem because the driver hesitates at launch.”
“Okay.” I noticed that too.
“When you launch, don’t—” There’s nothing he can tell me that I don’t know. We both know the tricks, rules, ways of the track. This is nerves talking and I can’t allow his to affect mine.
“I know,” I say bluntly, cutting Bryce off. “It’s not like it’s my first race.”
“No, but it’s the first one here, and the first one since—”
“I. Got. It.”
Bryce shifts, looking at me with concern, which isn’t common for him. Usually, he’s the first to take a risk, but we both know there’s a lot at stake and a lot of baggage I’m carrying with getting back on the track, especially this one. “If you can’t do it, I wouldn’t think any less of you. You don’t have anything to prove.”
“Yes. I do.” I push off the car as Bryce grabs my arm.
“Would Noah want you to do it?”
“I’d ask him if he were here but he’s not. I have to do this. I thought you understood that.” I move to walk away, but Bryce doesn’t release his grip.
“I understand and I back you one hundred percent. Just make sure you’re doing it for the right reason, because when you drive onto the track this time, things will be different.”
“They’re already different.”
Bryce releases my arm, rubbing his hand on his chin. “If anything happens, I’m telling your mom I didn’t know shit about any of this.”
“Deal, but you know she won’t believe that.”
Bryce drops his face in his hands, shaking his head then looks up. “Fuck. I know she won’t, so when you get your ass out there, keep your head straight and your eye on the prize.”
“That’s always the game plan.” I give him a reassuring nod.
“What’s the prize, Dylan?”
“Winning,” I say bluntly. “The prize is winning.”
“Everything else is a bonus.” Bryce finishes the motto t
hat we’ve lived and some have died by. “Focus. Drive. Win,” Bryce says, sounding confident but looking concerned. I’d say he’s more nervous about the race than I am. Because there’s nothing about this making me nervous. I’ve been waiting to get back on the track for months, and I’ll make sure when I drive off that it was all worthwhile.
“Line ’em up!” Parker hollers, waving me over.
Dropping into the driver’s seat of the Subaru, the door catches before closing.
“Keep your head straight and you’ve got this. Focus. Drive. Win,” Bryce repeats as I give him a reassuring nod. “Give ’em hell, Dylan.”
“Will do.” There’s no turning back. I couldn’t even if I wanted to, but there is no part of me that wants to back down. I wasn’t built like that.
Starting the car, the engine revs to life, and I shift into gear, steering onto the track, avoiding the water box as I inch to the starting line. Holding the clutch down, I shift into first gear, pressing the accelerator as the engine revs. It’s like riding a bike. Everything feels like it should. A Camaro pulls up on my right about four feet away. Revving the motor, I look forward to the dark track ahead and the flagger points to both of us, signaling to kill the engines.
“First over the line wins. Launch on my signal.” The flagger clicks the flashlight on in his hand, flashing the light before clicking it again and killing the light. “Keep it clean, fellas.” He points to both of us again, waiting for acknowledgement of the very simple rules. All drivers should be able to follow them—but they don’t.
Nodding in agreement, I keep my eyes forward, focused on the path in front of me. He signals for us to start our cars up and I do that, the STI rattling to life.
Conor McGregor said it best “Losers focus on winners. Winners focus on winning.” Don’t be the loser, Noah. Be the winner. Focus. Drive. Win.
Instinctively, my foot presses the gas pedal, revving the motor as the car vibrates beneath me. The long-ago conversation plays in my head again and again until I see the flashlight signal the start of the race.
