#Junkie (GearShark #1)(8)
Knowing we were both ready to fly, the flag girl pointed to a stop light nearby, the one that would signal the second we could take off.
Once the track was clear, I took a breath and gripped the wheel, letting the familiar surge of adrenaline rush my limbs.
The light switched to green, and I tore off the starting line immediately. I held the wheel steady to keep the Mustang straight and drove right in the path of the tire marks from past races tonight.
Rubber sticks to rubber.
Meaning my tires would get better traction and grip the road better if I drove along them. It was sort of like following someone in a snowstorm. It was easier to walk in their footsteps rather than create your own.
The driver of the Camaro was quick to act, too. The smell of burning tires and the squeal of two cars taking off was heady.
I punched the gas, but not all the way to the floor.
I’d seen this car race several times tonight. I didn’t need to put the V8 in my Mustang to absolute power because I could beat this guy without it.
It was another one of my tricks. Never show them everything you had; keep a little in reserve until it was absolutely needed. He didn’t need to know my top speed. I just needed to be a second faster.
One second was all it took.
One second was the difference between winning and losing.
We tore down the straightaway, and everything else faded. All I felt was the muscle of the car beneath me, the way my legs vibrated with the speed I was traveling.
At the halfway point, the Mustang kicked into full speed, no longer trying to gain it. Now I was soaring.
My loud shout bounced around the interior of the car, and I glanced over briefly at the Camaro. He was right beside me. We were neck and neck.
Bring it! I silently shouted at him.
He noted how well matched we were about the same moment I did. I felt the sizzle in the air from our competition.
Calmly, I glanced back on the road, punched the gas, and ripped forward.
I gave her just enough to cross the line first.
I saw the other driver bang on the steering wheel as we flew over the line. He was still going full throttle just like before. I let off the gas and he kept going.
“Sucker,” I muttered and deep braked into an immediate turn. The back end of my Fastback fishtailed a little with the force of my turn, but the tires gripped hard, and I slid forward.
Over the dash, I sought out the person I wanted to share my win with. My best friend. Trent had two fingers in his mouth, whistling in victory. I watched as he pulled his hands down and started clapping.
A few moments later, I slid to a stop near where he was parked. He pushed off the side of his car and jogged the distance between us. My window slid down, and he rested his palms on the windowsill.
The dark hat he wore covered most of his forehead and brought attention toward his strong brow and eyes. Usually they were a lighter color, but in the dark tonight, they were like a deep shade of amber.
“That was some damn good driving!” He banged on the door.
“I’m bored,” I drawled, tilting my head back against the headrest and grinning at him.
A wicked smile curved his mouth. The slightly crooked tooth in the front made my own smile grow bigger. “Follow me,” Trent enticed and turned back to his Mustang.
Seconds later, the steel-colored car whipped out in front of me and tore off down the asphalt.
I hit the gas and rode his ass all the way out to the main road.
It was time to have some fun.
Trent
We were going to get arrested.
It was only a matter of time. But when Drew says he’s bored, the mayhem that always ensues is way more fun than worrying about the po-po.
I should’ve probably cared more than I did. With my status as an Alpha U football player and the president of Alpha Omega, an arrest right now would be the last thing I needed.
Even so, I didn’t care at all.
Let the sirens scream and the flashing lights hunt us down. It would probably only make things more exciting.
We’d been doing this for months, and not once had we been caught. Maybe that was why I didn’t worry at all. I’d gotten comfortable in the chaos Drew seemed to attract.
And yeah, okay, I started some of it.
Technically, I’d started it tonight. Yeah, I knew what he was going to do the second he said he was bored, but I pulled out first. I was leading this parade of delinquency.
His Mustang was so far up my ass the entire way out of the speedway’s lot it was giving me a wedgie. So I peeled out onto the main road and opened her up.
Drew’s cobalt-blue Mach 1 Fastback was a bitch on wheels, and the way he drove it was even more badass.
However, I was no granny-driving, Kool-Aid-sipping pansy.
My Mustang Coupe GT was a V-8 just like his. I admit I didn’t have quite his skill behind the wheel, but I was learning. Ripping up the town on an almost weekly basis sure was good practice.
Horns blared as I swerved in and out of traffic and down one of the busier streets in town. Drew followed behind; when I swerved out left, he went right.
It was like freaking Swan Lake with engines.
We were a f*cking beautiful driving sight.
The other drivers on the road weren’t as impressed, but they were just jealous.
Up ahead, the light turned yellow, and I punched it.
Yellow lights = speed up.
An angry fist shot out of a window when I tore past and vaulted through the intersection. I cut the wheel swiftly and took the turn, sliding around the corner, barely giving the mustang enough time to even out before hitting the gas again.