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Supercharged Love(7)

By:Jenny Siegel


Meghan sticks her head around the door and watches me lying with my feet crossed at the ankles and arms behind my head.

“Unpacked already?” she asks with a sly grin, it’s an inside joke how it takes her a hell of a lot longer to unpack than me.

“Yup, unpacked and settled in,” I say smugly and she sticks her tongue out at me.

“What are you doing tonight?”

“Causey’s going to show me around.” It’s not a lie, but she doesn’t need to know I’m already thinking about racing.

“Who’s Causey?”

“Sorry, Joe. Causey is his nickname.”

“Hmm.” Her eyes narrow the longer she watches me. “Don’t get into trouble,” she warns, her gaze never leaves me.

“I won’t.” I smile what I hope is a reassuring one and not one that gives away the fact I’m lying through my teeth. After staring at me for a few more seconds, she moves off down the hall humming. Causey said he’d pick me at eight, which gives me enough time to get some sleep. This bed is really comfy, I think before I am dead to the world.



• • •



When I wake a few hours later, Meghan is busy arranging what few belongings we have, namely her record collection. She’s into retro things and old vinyl. There is a small plant sitting on the square kitchen table. It’s from Causey’s mom, and it makes it look more homey. Much better than the last place we stayed.

“I’m going,” I call out, but she barely notices. As I reach the door, she stops me.

“Remember, no trouble.” I hear the warning in her overly casual tone.

“I won’t,” I assure her and run down the stairs.



Causey is waiting in the parking lot, resting against the side of a silver Subaru Impreza.

“You raced before?” he asks tossing me the keys and climbs into the passenger seat.

“Yeah. It’s partly why we moved around so much. I was getting into trouble for street racing. Meghan warned me, but I didn’t listen.”

“How’d you end up here?” he asks casually, but I see a spark of interest and my expression darkens.

“It was just time,” I grind out. Causey holds my gaze for a beat longer before he nods, knowing I’m not being entirely honest with him but let’s it drop. I experience a twinge of guilt; Causey seems like a good guy, but it’s not my place to tell him.

“Okay,” he says once we’re in the car. “Let’s see what you’ve got.” He leans back and watches me, mischief written all over his face.

“Where to?”

“Head out of town and follow the sign for the quarry,” he instructs, a wide smile spreading across his face at my confused look. Arching my eyebrow, I turn to face the front and pull out of the lot. This is the first time I’ve driven one of these, and I can’t deny that I’m enjoying it.



The road to the quarry is deserted and it’s a nice drive, full of gentle twists and turns. The forest lines either side and in the distance is a straight stretch of road that’s a dead end.

“Up there, turn at the gates,” Causey instructs as I drive along the wide road, slowing before I turn.

“This.” He points straight ahead at the road we’ve just driven along. “Is the quarter mile.” I look at the wide, straight stretch of tarmac.

“This is where you race?” My smile grows steadily. It is perfect. Wide, flat, and smooth.

“Yup. Every weekend. It is exactly a quarter of a mile from that line.” He points to a white line spray painted on the tarmac. “To the finish line along the road.” He turns to me. “Line her up.”

He doesn’t need to tell me twice; the excitement starts to grow in the pit of my stomach as I line the Subaru up.

“Let’s see what you’ve got.” Causey shoots me a grin, and I raise my eyebrows. This is the first time I’ve had permission to race.

“Seriously?”

“Yeah. Why not?”

Because Meghan would blow a gasket if she knew.

“Okay.” I rev the engine, getting the feel of it, bringing the car to biting point.

“Go.” Causey bangs on the dashboard and I move off the line, shifting through the gears as I fly down the road. All too soon, I cross the line and slow the car before bringing it to a stop in the middle of the road.

Causey turns to me, nodding his head, his eyes wide with surprise. “You’re good.”

“Told you I’d raced before.” I try not to sound smug, but I fail miserably.

“No, you’re really good.” He slaps me on the shoulder.

“Thanks,” I mumble, unused to such genuine praise but pride wells up inside.