Quarter Mile Hearts(82)
My brain is frantically trying to take all this in, and if I wasn’t freaked out before, I certainly am now. Panic is bubbling way too close to the surface, and I need to keep a lid on it.
“Okay, anything else?”
“Here, put this on.” He holds up a crash helmet, and I back away.
“No fucking way am I wearing a helmet.”
“You are wearing a helmet.” We glare at each other, neither one of us wanting to back down until his eyes soften. “For me.” Dammit. There is no way I can refuse him now.
“Fine, but just ‘cause it’s you.” He smiles, now that I’ve relented, and holds the helmet above my head. I pull the band out of my hair and look up at him.
“I’m scared,” I whisper, and his face breaks into a genuine smile, like the first time he smiled at me, and my heart stutters.
Max sets the helmet down and cups my jaw in both hands. “Don’t be. You can do this.”
“Can I?” I search his face for any sign, but all I see is his usual confidence.
“You can.” I nod, slightly more reassured, and he picks up the helmet. But before he slips it over my head, he pauses and presses his lips to mine. My hands fist in his t-shirt as I pull his body closer to mine. When our kiss ends, he touches his forehead to mine and looks deep into me.
A wide smile spreads across his face. “I love you.”
“You love me,” I repeat, still not used to hearing those words.
“Yes, now go and beat that dickhead.” He pushes the helmet down on top of my head and holds open the door for me. Once I’m inside, he fastens my harness.
“Good luck, Storm.” And then he’s out the car, closing the door firmly behind him. But I just sit there, trying to get my scrambled brain into order. Max Morgan telling me that he loves me still hasn’t sunk in yet. Why didn’t I tell him how I feel? I’ve known it all along but ran away from it, ran away from him. But I’m done running and done hiding that I love him.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Max winks at me one last time before he moves over to the side to stand beside Aaron. I glance over at Zach who sneers as always. He’s such a dick. I give him the finger, and his eyes narrow. Yeah, maybe not the brightest move. I’ve just pissed him off even more.
There are lights to start us off, but in my head, I see Sugar, how she was the last time I raced, standing in front of us with a scarf tied around her neck and the ball cap raised high above her head. Making sure we are ready before she starts the race. Now I have to focus on the lights in front of me. I rev the engine, getting ready for the moment that the light turns green and I can slip the clutch and hopefully make a faster getaway than Zach, although now I feel slightly unprepared. Once around the track wasn’t the deal, but he’s done it to rattle me.
My hands grip the steering wheel tighter as I rev the car, coiled and ready for the green light.
Red.
Yellow.
Green.
I am on auto pilot and don’t think anymore as I let go of the brake and the Camaro moves off the line. Even I know it’s the best start I’ve pulled off, but I keep my eyes to the front, trying not to look for Zach or see how close he is. The first corner comes into sight and I drift into it, still on a high from such a good start. A surge of adrenaline shoots through me as I complete the first turn and head into the second. A quick check in my mirror shows Zach is close behind and gaining as I come out of turn two. The next section is fast approaching and my mind goes blank as cold panic grips me. What is coming next? This is what I get for agreeing to these stupid bets. That prick, Zach Anderson; no doubt he knows this track like the back of his hand, but I’m going in blind. I can’t shake the feeling of terror and everything I’ve learned or practiced goes out the window.
As I go into the next turn, I know I’ve totally fucked it up, and the line is all wrong. Meanwhile, Zach weaves behind me, looking for any opportunity to overtake my car. I’m jerked forward when he clips my back bumper as he pulls out, and I struggle to keep control of the car. Mild panic becomes blind panic as the fear starts to spread through me. Maybe it won’t just be the race I lose. Prepared for that happening, Zach takes his chance and pulls in front. That cheating bastard. He takes the lead.
Fuck.
Gripping the steering wheel tighter, I follow Zach into the next turn. Number four, is it? I’ve lost count, and all the while I’m trying to remember what Max said about the last two turns. They were the most crucial, and my mind’s gone blank because I’m fucking terrified. I need to get through the others first without Zach getting too far in front.