Just Love Me Once Again

Page 21

My legs jerked into action, one easing off the clutch, and the other hitting the gas with full force. The tires spun for a brief second before Roman, and I took off down the track. My stomach dropped, and I smiled at the feeling.

I loved this shit.

Gripping the steering wheel, I pounded in the clutch again as I shifted into second and then straight into third. I'd often forget and try to skip gears the way I did when I wasn't racing, but you can't do that on a track.

The Boss jerked again when I slammed down into the fourth, and I let the music and the car tear me up into a thousand pieces and scatter me to the wind. I couldn't think or worry about anything, even if I wanted to.

Roman and I charged head to head, but the first turn was coming up. I had a slight gain, but he wasn't slowing down.

Fucking prick.

Someday I was going to give this guy the beating he deserved. We wouldn't be able to make the goddamn turn together, and he knew it.

One of us would have to slow down, and it wasn't going to be him.

And he knew that I knew.

I strangled the steering wheel and slammed on the brakes, pulling behind him and onto the inside lane. Right on his ass, I breathed hard and shook my head, trying to keep my lead foot from ramming his car.

Pulling the wheel to the left, I rounded the first turn, kicking up dust and feeling the car's rear slide as my heart pounded in my throat.

But Roman's car slide more.

Shifting back to my second and hitting the gas, I turned up God smack's I Stand Alone and fucking took off.

Each second, my blood vibrated through my veins stronger, and I didn't care whether I won or lost. Nothing could ruin this for me, and nothing could make it better.

Through each turn, Roman cut me off and made me pull behind, or I spun out more than I wanted. Either way, I wasn't gaining a lead, because the asshole would rather play bumper cars than race.

Asshole.

I was breathing a thousand breaths a minute, not because I was nervous, but because I was fucking pissed.

He rather sees our cars totaled than see me win.

Laying on the gas, I gripped the wheel as Roman, and I charged ahead. The crowd flew past the car, and my stomach fluttered as we finally crossed the finish line.

I let out a breath and gritted my teeth, slowing the car. I wasn't sure if I'd lost, but I wasn't certain I'd won, either.

And at this point, I didn't care.

I wanted to hit something, and Roman was it.

Bolting out of the car, my arms were rigid as steel bars as I rounded the car and met him halfway.

"You're an asshole," I ground out.

Please, take a swing.

We were almost nose to nose.

"You were pushing into my lane!" he sneered.

I almost laughed.

"There are no lanes on the track." Idiot.

Roman, greasy, black hair slicked back, pointed his finger in my face. "I'll tell you what, Princess. Come back after you've taken off your training wheels. Then you'll be enough to race me."