Текст книги "Aflame"

Автор книги: Penelope Douglas

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Текущая страница: 5 (всего у книги 16 страниц)

Chapter 5

Tate

I slink through a glob of people, carrying my red Solo cup into the kitchen to refill.

Madoc’s house is a mess.

Fallon is having fun—alternating between picking up used cups and chatting with our friends, while her husband is downstairs with Jax, playing pool with some guys. Juliet and I mingle around the party, which is overrun with guests.

Everyone had come home for the weekend, and I’d brought Gavin, as well, trying to get my father used to a new guy in my life.

“Hey,” he whispers in my ear, coming up from behind. “I’m thinking it’s time to get out of here.”

I smile, taking Gavin’s hand off my stomach and spinning around.

“I don’t know if we can,” I state. “We’ve both been drinking.”

Keeping hold of his hand, I lead him to the counter, hearing “This Is the Time” by Nothing More traveling up through the open basement door.

“Madoc will let us use a room. We can just crash here tonight.”

My heartbeat throbs in my ears, but I don’t say anything. Use a room?

Gavin and I have been seeing each other for about two months, and there is no doubt that we get along. We are both pre-med, in the same academic fraternity, and he gets along with Madoc, although they’re not close.

Jax, on the other hand, will still have nothing to do with him.

My father has also had trouble warming to him, and I know why. His relationship with Jared is close, and it’s hard to move on. I understand that.

But I’m trying to move forward. Gavin is fun and smart, and when I’m with him, I don’t think about Jared.

It’s the only time I don’t think about him.

I’m trying to find some semblance of happiness again, but instead of getting easier, it’s getting harder.

Every day it’s more and more apparent that I don’t love him, and it’s bothering me.

Lots of people have sex without love, but I’ve realized one thing. It’s different. It’s not as good.

“I’m sure we could find a room to sleep,” I say quietly, giving him a small smile.

He looks at me. “Don’t you have a room here?” he asks. “I thought I heard Madoc mention it once.”

I stall, trying to figure out how to answer as I dump out my drink and fill my cup with water.

“I do.” I nod. “But—”

Then I jerk, seeing some guys crash into the kitchen, coming from downstairs and yelling as they filter down the hallway.

“But?” he presses.

I look back at him, distracted by the noise.

“Hey!” someone shouts. “Check out this video of Trent!”

I blink, dropping my cup in the sink.

Ignoring Gavin, I round the corner and go to where the guys are sitting in the living room crowded around an iPad. Peering over someone’s shoulder, I watch footage of Jared—uploaded today, by the looks of it—speeding around a track filled with sharp twists and turns, and even though I can’t see his face behind his helmet, I know it’s him. I’d know his body anywhere.

I lose my breath watching him as I allow myself a small smile.

God, he’s beautiful. The way he leans and steers the bike, in perfect control.

And he’s doing it.

He’s doing what he wants to do and living how he wants to live. I watch, and no matter how much I still hurt, I’m so proud of him.

I feel Gavin at my back, but I don’t look. The footage on the YouTube video switches to a commentator, and my stomach knots, seeing Jared in the background.

He’s signing autographs for some kids as a few race girls—the ones who work the crowd in their sexy outfits—climb onto the bus behind him. Another teammate clutches Jared’s shoulders behind him and whispers into his ear before they both start smiling as if sharing a private joke.

The guy then pushes Jared toward the same bus as the girls and follows him up the steps, the door closing.

“Man, that’s the life,” a guy off to my right comments.

I back away and try to keep an even-keeled expression, even though my heart feels like it’s splintering.

Gavin follows me upstairs, and I don’t know why, but I take him straight to Jared’s and my room.

I need to do this. I don’t want Jared anymore. I don’t want the pain. I don’t want to take a chance that I’ll ever be his and go through this again.

Months of heartache, months of trying to move on, and it still feels like he’s everywhere.

I’ve made love to Gavin, and now I can make love to him in Jared’s and my bed, and I will have crossed a boundary from which there’s no return. It will kill everything inside of me.

Gavin starts kissing my neck, and a tear falls down my face. My skin feels like it’s covered in mud, feeling dirtier the more he touches. I don’t want this.

I shouldn’t do this.

But I close my eyes and lean my head to the side, inviting him in anyway.

His hands cup my breasts, rubbing them in circles over my shirt as he takes my mouth.

He dips a hand inside my jeans, and I suck in a breath. I clench my thighs to keep him at bay, but I don’t know what I want.

Gavin makes Jared go away. Gavin always makes me forget. I can do this.

But I still shake my head.

Every second of this makes me feel worse, and I don’t want to use Gavin. To make what we’re doing dirty, just so I can feel better.

Jared’s voice pours into my head. “You’ve been turning my world upside down for eight years. I can’t get enough of you.”

I gasp, choking on tears as I push Gavin away and cover my face with my hands.

“Tate, what’s wrong?” He sounds worried.

I shake my head and collapse against the wall next to the bathroom, sliding down to the floor. “You have to go,” I cry softly. “I’m so sorry, but you have to sleep somewhere else tonight.”

He approaches. “Baby, we can sleep somewhere else. What did I do?”

I shake my head again. “Please just leave.”

This is Jared’s and my room. No one else’s. “Please leave,” I cry louder.

“Tate,” he presses.

“Now!” I shout. “Just leave me alone.”

I put my head down on my knees and cry. I don’t know why I feel guilty. I’d only ever had sex with Jared until Gavin came along. I don’t sleep around, and Jared drowned his sadness and pain in plenty of girls before me.

Why couldn’t it make me feel better, too?

I cry for a long time, still hearing the music going strong downstairs and not knowing if Gavin left, went back to the party, or found another room.

A hand touches mine, and I shoot my head up, seeing Madoc kneeling down on one knee.

My face cracks, and I can’t hold it back. “Why can’t I forget him?” I sob.

He closes his eyes, running a weary hand through his hair, looking about ready to cry himself.

Instead he pulls me in and hugs me, letting me release it all.

“When Fallon was sent away,” he starts, choking on his own tears, “I tried to get lost in so many other women.” I heard him swallow hard. “But it never helped for longer than a day, and I always felt worse later.”

I look up at Madoc. “It’s been months. Jared’s probably moved on, but I don’t want anyone else.” I’m sobbing, wiping away my tears only to feel more come to take their place. “It hurts. Everything hurts. I almost cut down our tree last fall, Madoc. What’s wrong with me? Why can’t I get over it?”

He lifts my chin, tears pooling in his blue eyes. “Do you want to get over it?” he asks.

I narrow my eyes. “Of course I do.”

He cocks his head. “I think you still love him, Tate, and I think you know deep down, he’s going to be back for you.”

I sniffle, dropping my eyes. “I can’t trust him. Too much has happened.” The tears spill over my lips. “Gavin’s a good guy. I need to try to move on.”

He nudges my chin, urging my eyes back up to his. “You’re forcing it,” he insists. “Do you remember senior year? You were stronger when you stood on your own, Tate.”

Madoc was right.

The next day, I broke off my brief relationship with Gavin and joined my dad and Jax in working on my car, and that spring, I started racing.

It wasn’t until recently—more than a year after that talk with Madoc—that I started seeing Ben, taking it slow but testing out the waters for the first time in a long time.

I sat in my G8, the cool black interior and tinted windows encasing me in my own private world as Limp Bizkit’s “My Way” droned through the speakers. The crowds milled around outside, already tipping their drinks as they stumbled around the track, and I held back my little grin, not for once feeling bad that I never joined in. Ben wanted me to. He craved the happy girlfriend who could ease in and out of social situations without complication.

After all, if I was determined to race, why not enjoy the atmosphere and the hype?

But Ben was far too late to make an impression on my personality. I learned back in high school that I was who I was, and I slept a lot better at night when I didn’t make apologies for that.

I didn’t need them, and I didn’t even need the win.

I just need this, I thought as I gripped the wheel and the stick. The blood in my arms felt like it was dancing under my skin, and I was ready.

Yes, Madoc was right.

I was stronger when I stood on my own. And when Jax encouraged me to take up some racing at the Loop, I’d found there was one thing that I did by myself—one thing I owned—that put strength in my veins.

There was no guilt, no pressure—just silence. And I would keep that going when Jared showed up tonight.

Which he would.

I hated to admit it, but he’d put a nice little rush in my blood today. And it wasn’t just because of how good he’d looked. Beautiful ink covered more of his arms than it had two years ago, but he still had the same smooth, toned chest that now looked even more incredible, tanned by the West Coast sun.

And of course, all it took was a look for him to get under my skin.

At ten years old, Jared was my friend. At fourteen, my enemy; at eighteen, my lover; and at twenty, my heartbreak. I’d known him more than half my life, and although the roles had changed, his impact was always all consuming.

Always.

I leaned over, digging my mom’s Leaves of Grass out of my backpack. Tossing the pack into the backseat, out of the way, I opened the paperback, pressing my thumb over the edges of the pages as I fanned them, the soft breeze of the flutter wafting across my face.

Finding page sixty-four, I headed straight for the lines my mother had underlined on verse twenty of Walt Whitman’s “Song of Myself.”

I whispered, holding the book close to me. “I exist as I am, that is enough.”

There were many lines underlined and many poems dog-eared in this old paperback, but I always came back to the ones my mother did herself. Maybe she marked them for herself, or maybe she knew I would need them, but they were always right there being the voice for me she couldn’t be anymore. Even though she died of cancer more than ten years ago, I never stopped needing her. So I carried the book everywhere.

Leaning in, I pressed my nose into the crease and inhaled the scent of old paper as my eyes fell closed.

“Dude,” I heard Madoc’s voice. “Kinky.”

I opened my eyes, letting out an aggravated sigh at his big head sticking through my driver’s side window.

You would think Madoc was my boyfriend, as much as he hovered, but it was useless to try to get away from it. He’d texted three times to make sure I was showing up tonight. I’d never missed a race, but I knew exactly why he thought I might duck out. The moron thought I had no self-respect.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” I warned, tossing the book into the glove compartment—which I always did for good luck—and then climbing out of the car.

“Okay.” He nodded, stuffing his hands into his gray cargo shorts. “But if I see you sleeping with your books, I’m staging an intervention.” He jerked his chin to the backseat, littered with all of my texts for school.

I shot him a look and walked around the back of my car to attach the GoPro Jax had given me. “I got behind on my summer reading because of my shifts at the hospital,” I explained, bending down to affix the camera, “and I want to get through these footnotes by the time school starts.”

“You’re reading the books in the footnotes?” He looked at me like I was wearing head-to-toe orange.

I stood up, placing my hands on my hips. “Considering you’re studying to be a lawyer, it might be a good idea for you to dive deeper into your reading lists as well.”

He went wide-eyed. “We have reading lists?”

My eyes rounded, but then he laughed, clearly joking. At least I hoped he was joking. “Well, you’re not going into surgery tomorrow,” he argued. “So take a breath already.”

“I can’t.” I brushed him off, walking back to my door. “I’m just—”

“Worried you’ll start thinking about him?” he finished, and I halted.

I let out a sigh, gritting my teeth. “Not now, okay? Don’t you have better things to do? Like your mission to start a soccer team in the Caruthers household as soon as college ended?”

But he ignored me. Before I knew what was happening, Madoc darted into my backseat and started gathering my books and backpack.

“Madoc,” I scolded, trying to grab my shit. “Give me my books.”

He jerked away from me. “I’ve got them.”

“Now!” I whisper-yelled.

“Not tonight.” He smiled, shaking his head.

“Why not tonight?” I inquired as if I didn’t know where this was going.

But then a husky voice roared over the loudspeaker, and Madoc and I looked up.

“Tate!” My name echoed across the track. “Are you here?”

I grinned and cocked a mischievous eyebrow at Madoc. “Excuse me for a moment,” I said sweetly.

“Oh, of course,” he cooed, bowing his head in reverence with laughter in his eyes.

I rounded the front of my car, hopped on the hood, and stood tall. “Here!” I shouted, feeling the weight of a hundred pairs of eyes fall on me from the surrounding crowds.

Cheers rang out in the night air as people—men and women—howled and clapped, whistled and chanted my name, and I caught sight of Fallon and Juliet over by the bleachers holding up their drinks and screaming their support.

Zack Hager, the announcer, stood up in the viewing stand with Jax, clearly figuring out the evening’s schedule. They only took attendance when someone had canceled. Seeing as how we all had set times before the day of the race, they needed to figure out who was here, so they could push up racers in the line-up.

I jumped back down and eyed Madoc, finishing our conversation. “All of you knew he was coming home and no one told me,” I pointed out. “I’m not mad, but I’m not indulging whatever scheme you’ve worked out. I’m a grownup.”

He pinched his eyebrows together and dropped my back pack. “Puh-lease,” he grumbled.

And the next thing I knew he grabbed me, hooked an arm round my neck—putting me in a headlock—and scrubbed my scalp hard with his knuckles.

“Madoc!” I screamed, planting one hand against his back and one against his bicep as I tried to pull my head out of his hold. “You are not giving me a noogie!”

“Noogie?” he argued. “No, grownups don’t give noogies. And we’re grownups, right?” He carried on, his assault burning my scalp.

“Madoc!” I growled, my voice deep and labored with the short breaths. “Let me go!” I stomped my foot, finally twisting out of his hold.

He backed off, and I straightened, trying to catch my breath as he laughed.

“You’re a jerk!” I pushed hair out of my face that had been tugged free of my ponytail.

“Yes.” Fallon joined in, walking up with Juliet. “You’re just now learning that?” she teased, winking at her husband.

I huffed, yanking my rubber band out of my hair, because it was a lost cause now.

“Ah, that’s better.” Madoc smiled his approval at my hair hanging loose. I just scowled.

But then something else caught our attention as the crowd around us grew louder, and we all turned toward the track to see what the commotion was.

People moved to the side to clear a path, and I caught sight of Jared as onlookers cheered and screamed.

He was riding his motorcycle from high school—the same one Jax kept in his garage now that Jared had better bikes for racing—and he veered off to the side and backed up into a parking space. It took no time at all before he was swarmed with people: old friends, fangirls, and even fanboys.

I watched as he slipped off his helmet and swung his leg off the bike, flashing a smile to his old friend Zack, and my stomach tightened when I saw a young woman climb off the motorcycle behind him.

I didn’t recognize her, and I ignored the pang of jealousy that she might be someone he brought with him from California.

Everyone was trying to get his attention, and once again, he was the center of everything.

Madoc snapped his fingers in front of my face, reeling me back in. “Are you pissed off?” he asked.

I pursed my lips. “No.”

“Well, you should be,” he shot back. “That’s not his crowd. It’s yours,” he continued. “You’re the one they came to see.”

I inhaled a sharp breath. “I don’t care—”

“Now, some of them have long memories,” he cut me off, “and maybe they’re interested in seeing what crowbars will fly with you two in the same space, but nevertheless, he doesn’t get to steal the spotlight in your show tonight.”

I got in his face. “I couldn’t care less about the—”

But he grabbed my arms, and I was stunned silent when he shook me.

“What do you care about?” he growled, and I felt Juliet and Fallon still beside me.

I sucked in air, shocked at his roughness. I barely blinked as he grabbed the hem of my loose black tank top and ripped a slit up the side.

I gritted my teeth together. “Madoc, what the hell are you doing?” I asked calmly.

He grabbed the two pieces and tied a knot halfway up my stomach. “You’re the queen,” he reminded me and then plucked the backpack off the ground. “You own this track and every driver on it. He’s ignorant of that fact, so educate him.”

I took a deep breath, not wanting him to see the smile I was trying to hide. Yes, this was mine. The track, the Friday nights, and the wins. I didn’t need to engage Jared. But I was going to keep what was mine.

Turning around, Madoc barked one last order before walking off. “Juliet, get her some fucking lipstick, too.”

My eyebrows did a nosedive.

Asshole.

Juliet dug in her bag as I watched Madoc toss my backpack into his car, clearly making sure I didn’t have an excuse to be antisocial even after the races.

I looked down at my shirt.

Such a jerk. Even if I undid the tie, my shirt was still ripped.

“Your husband is—”

“A handful?” Fallon finished, her green eyes smiling. “Yes, he is.”

I jerked as Juliet tried to get some red lipstick on me.

“Stay still,” she chided. “Jax hates gloss, so I found this lipstick that doesn’t get him all sparkly when I kiss him. He loves it, but if it smears on your face, it’ll take more than a little spit to get it off your skin, okay?”

I let her put the damn lipstick on because—I didn’t know why. Maybe it was added armor. Maybe I wanted to be pretty for Ben.

Or maybe I saw Jared take a seat, leaning back on the bleachers, while a girl—a different one than the one I’d seen him arrive with—draped a hand on his knee, interest flaring in every one of her mannerisms.

Maybe I wanted to show him that I didn’t need him to make an impression of my own.

The friend he’d arrived with sat on his other side, looking bored and disinterested. Purple streaks flowed through her jet black hair, and glancing up and down her body, I took in her alternative appearance and wondered at how Jared’s taste had changed.

I had always been edgy but on the socially acceptable side. This girl was beautiful but a lot busier in her hair, makeup, and piercings than I thought Jared would have liked. He’d always said he appreciated my less-is-more attitude.

I guessed that was a lie.

She wore skinny jeans tucked into combat boots and a black sleeveless blouse that draped flatteringly down her body past her hips. Her wrists were adorned with dozens of metal and jelly bracelets while her ears sported metal from the lobe all the way around to the tragus. Her face had a few holes as well.

She seemed like Fallon, only louder.

Seeing Ben approach him—probably to break the ice sooner rather than later—I headed over with Fallon and Juliet, catching Jared’s eyes almost immediately.

Madoc leaned into Jared, speaking close, but Jared’s gaze stayed on me as Ben grabbed my hand when I came up. I blinked, smiling up at him and hoping he couldn’t feel the sweat on my palms.

“Tate.” Jared nodded.

I breathed in and out steadily through my nose, keeping my pulse in check. “Jared.”

“Your career really took off, man,” Ben admired, speaking to Jared. “Congratulations.”

“Thanks,” Jared replied without meeting Ben’s eyes.

“Clear the track!” I heard Zack holler in the distance as the round-one drivers took position.

“So you two finally got together?” Jared inquired, his words sounding more like a statement than a question.

I arched a brow, turning back to the track and ignoring him.

Ben joined me, taking my lead that I had no intention of indulging a conversation with Jared. Zack announced the next race, and we all watched as he and Jax set up the drivers and sent them off.

The heavy engines shot off, pounding over the screams of the crowd, and I smiled as the cars roared past, the wind sending my hair flying over my shoulder.

Juliet and Fallon chatted, and Madoc hung back, staying quiet. Jared stayed behind me on the bleachers, the heat of his eyes covering my back.

I’d missed that feeling.

“Well,” Jared’s smooth voice floated behind me. “Our little pond certainly has come a long way, hasn’t it? My brother looks like he’s outdone himself with the Loop. Some amazing races, hot new drivers . . .”

I slipped my fingers into the pockets of my tight jeans and tilted my chin up, the corner of my mouth tilting in a grin.

“But it’s still a small pond,” he finished, his hard voice dripping with disdain.

When he tore me down in high school it was to feel better about himself. But now it was to get me to react.

I turned around, meeting his eyes but never giving him what he wanted. He could gloat and wear his self-satisfied smirk, but I didn’t play this game anymore.

But much to my surprise, Jared wasn’t smiling. He wasn’t smirking. He wasn’t teasing. His expression was dead cold, and his eyes bored a hole right through me.

There was no anger, no amusement, no threatening tone to his voice . . .

What was he thinking?

“This is Pasha, my assistant.” Jared introduced the goth-looking girl he’d driven in with. He turned to her. “Pasha, this is Tate and Ben.”

Assistant? Yeah, right. Men and women who were attractive and unattached generally weren’t friends. Unless one of them was gay.

“Tate?” Pasha repeated as if she recognized my name, and I saw her shoot a look to me and then back to Jared. “As in . . . ?” she asked him, trailing off as if they shared a hidden understanding.

I narrowed my eyes, noticing that he stayed silent, with his eyes focused out on the race.

And her interested expression turned judgmental as an eyebrow shot up.

She knew something.

I turned back around, just in time to see the racers cross the finish line, and I wondered if Jared had talked about me with her. It would’ve been unlike him. He rarely confided in anyone, so why her?

“Round two!” Zack shouted over the loudspeaker, making me jump.

I looked over the track, my game face lost, and . . .

And now my blood wasn’t dancing under my skin. It was shaking.

Shit.

“On the track!” Zack shouted, and Ben hooked my elbow, pulling me away.

“Shake it off,” he told me, cupping my face. “His being here doesn’t matter.”

I brought his hands down gently, giving him a half smile. I was grateful for what he was trying to do, but I could take care of myself.

I let Ben kiss me on the lips before I turned away and walked to my car, hearing whistles from the guys in the crowd. Even more so this week with Madoc’s little impromptu wardrobe alteration on my shirt catching everyone’s attention. Sometimes I dressed to kill, simply because it was fun to change it up, but I wanted to be noticed for my driving, not shaking my ass.

Climbing in, I pulled my car up to the starting line and sat next to Jaeger, with Chestwick and Kelley behind us. It was another four-car race, which made it interesting, with the narrow track.

I climbed out of the car to go hear instructions.

All three guys, surrounded by their girlfriends and our friends, crowded around the front of the cars as Jax stood up in the tower doing his techie thing and Zack administered the rules.

I steeled my body, determined that in one minute, I’d be in my car, with my music, and everything else forgotten.

“All right, everyone,” Zack rallied us, his bald head shining in the stadium lighting. “It’s a four-loop race. The top finishers from last week get the two front spaces this week. No rubbing, and no shenanigans.” He pointed around to all of us. “You don’t race clean, you won’t be invited back.”

Rules we already knew and rules that were hard not to break. The track was wider than it had been in high school but not wide enough for four cars. Not rubbing was nearly impossible.

Zack eyed all of us for compliance, and the crowd started chanting names.

“I’m ready,” I said, nodding.

Zack peeked over our heads, toward the bleachers.

“Mr. Trent!” He called for Jared, feigning formality. “How about a turn for old time’s sake, Mr. Big Shot?” he joked.

He held out his hands, trying to make a big show and get the crowd riled up as they started cheering.

“Sorry, man,” I heard Jared say in the distance behind me. “There’s only one race I’ll take, but I’m not sure she’s ready to give me what I want.”

“Ohhhh,” the crowd nearly panted, and before I let his words sink in, I did an about-face and got into my car without giving him a look.

Everyone cleared the road, and I glanced into my rearview mirror as the engines roared to life. He leaned back on his elbows, looking my way, and I averted my eyes, rolling up my windows and turning up Shinedown’s “Adrenaline.”

Nothing. I closed my eyes, letting the music sink in. Nothing was weighing me down.

Med school was a done deal. The house wasn’t important. Ben was no pressure. Jared was nothing but a temptation that couldn’t be trusted.

I was on top of the world.

My car door opened, and I snapped my eyes over to see Jared’s “assistant” climbing into the car.

“What are you doing?” I barked, watching her settle back and fasten the seat belt.

“Coming with,” she answered, pushing her black-frame glasses up the bridge of her nose.

I stared at her, befuddled, because I wasn’t entirely sure if she was trying to be friendly or piss me off.

I cleared my throat and looked at her. “You’re sleeping with my ex-boyfriend,” I pointed out. “Get out.”

She reached over, turning down the volume on my stereo.

“I’m not sleeping with Jared,” she corrected. “I have never slept with Jared, nor do I ever want to.”

I narrowed my eyes, studying her.

She nodded, allowing, “Although we are close, even though he likes to pretend we’re not. I saw him almost cry once, and it kind of made me like him more despite the fact that he maintains it never happened,” she explained. “But he’s not my type, and I promise you of that.”

She looked at me firm and serious, and I kind of believed her.

And then I wondered why I cared.

I turned the volume back up. “Out,” I ordered, but then she turned it back down.

“I’m bored,” she argued. “And I’d like to experience my boss’s humble beginnings. If you’re lucky, I may start to like you.”

I rolled my eyes.

I saw Zack get up on the podium with his megaphone, and I checked to make sure I was in first gear.

“You’re a distraction,” I blurted out, wishing she’d get out of my car. I was tempted to get someone to haul her out, but it would waste my time.

“I’d say you were already distracted,” she retorted, and I snapped my eyes up at her, catching her insinuation.

“Ready!”

I jerked my gaze back out the windshield, not feeling ready.

“Set!” I heard him call, and I blasted the music, shooting her a warning look.

Why was she in my car? Why did she think I was distracted?

And shit, how many laps was I doing again?

Uh . . . four. Four laps. I nodded to myself. Yeah, four.

“Go!” he shouted, and I sucked in a breath, gassing the damn car with all of my might.

I yanked the stick down into second and up into third, smoothing into my gears like always. My car was a part of me, and I checked my rearview mirror, seeing two of the cars still behind me and Jaeger at my side.

Coming up on the first turn, I let Jaeger go ahead, and I drifted behind him around the turn. I skidded, going to the outside, but not having to slow nearly as much.

“Whoa!” Pasha shouted as we raced, and I shot down into fourth as I slammed my foot down on the gas and sped ahead, now in front of everyone.

I’d love to say it was merely skill, but the car was a huge part, as well. The size and maneuverability were strong factors.

I shot up into fifth and down into sixth, hearing Pasha’s excited breaths next to me. “I thought hanging out in the racing world, you’d be used to this,” I challenged, seeing her holding the handle above the door as I tried to keep my mind off Jared, who was no doubt watching my every move out here.

Pasha breathed hard. “I drive for fun, and I watch races, but I’m hardly ever the passenger.” She shook her head, smiling. “It’s different.”

I almost smiled back. Yeah, she was right. Riding with Jared had been a huge rush. No control—you just rode and put your life in someone else’s hands.

It was an entirely different experience but still as exciting.

I rounded the next turn and the next, slowly starting to relax.

I finally turned down the music. “You don’t know me, okay?” I told her, setting the record straight. “Whatever Jared told you . . .”

I felt her eyes on me, and even though I wanted to know what she knew, I wasn’t opening this up for discussion.

No one—especially people I didn’t know—made me feel bad about myself. And her look at me earlier had made me shrink.

“The guy you’re dating?” she started softly. “Ben? He’s a lifeline to you. Something to hold on to so you don’t sink, right?”

I peered over at her, confused and shocked at the same time. Lifeline?

“You know how I know?” she asked. “Because you’re a strong woman, and he’s too weak for you. You can’t possibly respect him.”

“That’s ridiculous,” I snapped. “You don’t know us. You just met us. He’s a good guy, and I like him a lot.”