LURED

1

I was on the brink of signing the contract when my phone buzzed in my back pocket, jolting me from my focus. Ivarsen's name flashed on the screen. For a moment, I relished in the suspense, letting the phone ring a little longer before finally answering.

"What's your deal?" I purposely feigned ignorance, well aware of why he was calling. Tapping into his irritation was too tempting to resist. "Don't you fucking dare sign that paper, Indie. That car's mine!" he spat. It was way too much fun getting under his skin.

 As much as I desired the car, I already owned the 1967 Mustang gifted by his dad, Damon, on my 16th birthday. Our dads' friendship had its perks. This Nissan GTR was solely to irk him – a decision I'd stand by till the day I died. By day's end, the GTR would rest in my driveway, a constant thorn in his side.

"If you sign that deal, Indie I swear..." his words trailed off, but they only solidified my resolve. "Listen up, Ivar," I smirked, bringing the phone closer to the paper as I flourished the pen and elegantly scrawled my signature. Whether he heard the pen scratching the paper or not, I didn't know, but his curses on the other end of the line were music to my ears – a testament to my victory.

But I was about to get myself knee-deep in a whole lot of trouble. Who cares, though? The car was mine, and the thrill of the chase was worth it. This car was a challenge to possess – a challenge I was gladly prepared for.
....

The car's interior held the scent of novelty, I reveled in the aroma as my fingers brushed over the steering wheel, and with a smooth twist of the key, the engine roared to life. A shiver raced down my spine as the familiar purr filled the air. The engine's roar was music to my ears. Windows down, I shifted into first gear and sped away from the dealership without hesitation. This car was fast, thrillingly so. The adrenaline pumping through my veins was addictive, the wind whipping around me and my hair a chaotic dance.

The thrill consumed me – my heart raced, wind tousling my hair, the road stretching ahead like an invitation to unrestrained adventure. I loved driving– engaging the gas, clutch, brakes, manipulating gears, controlling the speed – it all felt damn good. I was in command. I'd never felt more content. This sensation was like a bud blooming in spring, happiness unfurling within me. 

As night descended, the moon cast its ethereal glow over the horizon, akin to a luminous pearl.

I neared my house, which sat next to his, and guess who's standing there in front of his driveway? Ivarsen, Mr. Always-Mad. His figure awaited there, a constant presence against the darkness.

Wonder if he heard the engine from a mile away or he'd just been waiting there since he hung up. So, I did what any rational person would do—I floored it. With a burst of speed, I veered towards him, employing the clutch kick method I'd recently mastered. The cars rear accelerated, rotating as I deftly maneuvered it into a drift, stopping with the passenger side facing him.

A chuckle escaped me, pride surging within as I pulled off that drift. "What's up, princess?" I quipped, glancing at him through the window. Perhaps a smirk played on his lips, but it was gone as soon as it appeared, replaced by his usual infuriated expression.

"Wanna go for a spin in my new baby?" I teased, wiggling my eyebrows. Apparently, the joke went over his head. Stepping out of the car, I added, "Come on, don't be a buzzkill. I bet you enjoyed that, even you couldn't pull it off if you tried."

He met me halfway, and together, we gazed upon the car's sleek form, its powerful engine almost throbbing with life. 

"I told u not to do it, Indie!" he muttered, annoyance evident in his tone.

"Why should I listen to you?" I mumbled, settling onto the car's hood.

"I told you, if I want something, I get it, Ivarsen. No one can take it from me." His eyes bore into me, a look that was too complex for me to decipher. Our gazes locked in a fierce clash, an unspoken challenge hanging in the air.

Without warning, he advanced, positioning himself between my legs, his hands braced on either side, effectively caging me in. The intimacy of our proximity crackled with electric tension, his breath warming my skin. His eyes locked onto mine, a connection stronger than I cared to admit.

"You're always going against me, Indie" he breathed. His exhales teased my lips, and I cursed the rush in my veins. "Yeah, what are you gonna do about it?" I whispered. Our gazes locked, our breaths entwining. Our rapid breaths mirrored each other's, but I had no idea why.

"I don't think you'd wanna know, little villain." A shiver traversed my spine. His lips curved into a suggestive smile, his gaze lowering to my mouth. I mirrored his movement, my attention drawn to his plush lips, a hint of a mustache shadowing his upper lip. I yearned to touch it, but I pushed the impulse aside, willing myself to remain composed.

His scent enveloped me, intoxicating and heady.

As if we hadn't been close enough already, our lips hovered inches apart. Our breaths mingled with each other's as our lips brushed in the barest touch. Fingers trembling, I cautiously pressed my palm against his chest, pushing him away. This couldn't be happening – the magnetic pull between us was undeniable, but I couldn't cross that line. We hated each other, and it would stay that way.

"See you at the race, Ivar. Catch some Zs," I turned away, locking the car before entering my house. Tomorrow was the big race at The Loop, my first time participating as a racer. It wasn't his first rodeo, though. I needed a good night's sleep before the event. Although sleep might not come immediately, I had to escape the situation before making a grave mistake. After all, I had a boyfriend I needed to consider.