Quarter Mile Hearts(77)

Once Max is strapped in, I cautiously pull the car out the lot, taking it slow, getting used to the feel of everything—the clutch, accelerator, and brakes—which are new and very sensitive. I take a long route up to the quarter mile to give me time to get familiar with how it handles. A frisson of excitement works its way through me as I drive. Aaron isn’t there when we get up to the quarter mile, so I line the car up and we climb out and wait. He arrives five minutes later with a tired looking Beth, who climbs out of his truck and rushes over to give me a hug. It’s been a few days since I’ve had time to speak to her.

“How’d it go the other night?” I ask, feeling like a shitty friend for not calling her sooner.

Her smile tells me that everything’s okay. “Everyone was a bit shocked but happy. We’ve moved the wedding forward. It’s in two months.” She bites her lips and eyes me, uncertain, trying to gauge whether to say what’s on her mind. “Will you still be here?” she asks, fishing.

“I’ll make sure I am.” I pull her into a hug, and I wonder how long I’ll manage to avoid telling them what I’ve decided. Not for much longer, by the looks of it.

“Right.” Aaron claps his hands, and we turn to focus our attention on him. “Let’s do this.” He sounds more excited than I feel. Would he feel like this if it was him who was going up against Zach Anderson? I doubt it.

“Do you want me to hook up the laptop?”

“What for?”

“For diagnostics, the optimum time to change gear, that kind of thing.”

“I don’t need a fucking laptop to tell me when to change gear,” I burst out, and Max stifles a chuckle. “Sorry, no offense, Aaron,” I mumble because I feel bad at the way his face falls. I know he’s just trying to help.

“Didn’t think you would.” He doesn’t look offended as he throws me a wide smile.

“You ready?” Max calls over, and I give him a solemn nod. The excitement starts to grow in the pit of my stomach. “We need to get as much practice as we can, come on.” He holds the door open until I climb in and then straps me into my harness, double-checking then triple checking that I’m secure. “You remember what to do?” he asks, and I arch an eyebrow at him. “You need to find the correct rpm and keep it there until you cross the finish line,” he instructs, and I bite the side of my lip. His brow is furrowed, an intense expression on his face as he continues to give me instructions. Unable to resist anymore, I lean forward and kiss him on the cheek.

He gives me a sharp look. “Are you listening?”

“I do know what to do, you know.”

“Okay, smarty pants. Have at it.” He backs out of the car and slams the door a little too hard, walking away with his arms out at his side and shaking his head.

Shit, I’ve succeeded in pissing him off.

Shaking it off, I start the engine and jiggle the gear stick before sliding it into first and pressing down on the accelerator, slipping the clutch. I release the handbrake and start off down the quarter mile. When I reach the finish line, I brake, turn, and drive back up. Max, Aaron, and Beth lean against the truck and I roll the window down, looking at each of them. Aaron shakes his head.

“Not fast enough. Zach will leave you in the dust.” I give him the finger and line the Camaro up for another try. That one is worse; Aaron doesn’t even need to say anything, it’s written over his face. Max hasn’t moved from his spot, his arms folded over his chest, and his feet crossed at the ankle. After a third attempt, I’m even more annoyed. At myself. I need to nail this; too much depends on it. After a struggle to get out of this fucking harness, I throw open the door and march over to Max. Mirroring his angry stance.

“Come on, then. Don’t hold back,” I demand, and we stand glaring at each other. Beth and Aaron shift uneasily and look anywhere but at the two of us.

“You’re spinning your wheels and wasting vital seconds. It will cost you the race. You’re pressing down on the accelerator too much.”

“He’s right. You’ve got to watch that,” Aaron adds.

“You have to get the throttle just right,” Max supplies, his tone softening, and he pushes off the truck. “You just need to get more familiar with the car; you’re used to riding a bike. Go again.” He wraps an arm around me and leads me back over to the car and climbs into the passenger seat beside me.

“I can’t do this stupid harness.” I groan in frustration and bang off the headrest. With a chuckle, he leans over and buckles me in. Clipping himself into his harness, he sits back.