“I didn’t ask.”
His breath caresses my cheek.
When he releases my throat, his palm drifts down to my side to help me climb inside. Diego closes the door, slipping my belongings on the seat behind me. He rounds the truck, gets in, and starts it without any explanation of where we are going, and I’m the imbecile who readily agrees to go.
With all my defense down with him, I blame it on the weariness of this week and hearing my father sing his praises the last two days after a pretty fantastic lab and lunch. I have to admit it was a bold but sweet gesture.
After talking about it with Papà, he was invigorated and eager to attend next week, having the old chemistry lab in his blood sparking him with an energy I haven’t seen in years, all while wearing his sling and recovering from his fall. I have Diego to thank for that, but the words of gratitude won’t come.
“Now that you have me trapped, start talking.”
I adjust the low heat from the vents away from me.
“Where are we going?”
His smirk is highlighted by the blue LED lights that trim his dashboard and doors. A fancy trick to match his fancy truck.
“To take a page out of your book, Iz, we’ll talk when we get there.”
“Where is there?”
His dark stare meets mine before his hand shifts slightly as if testing the waters to reach for mine. Instinctively, I lean closer to the window, focusing on the city lights streaking past in a kaleidoscope of motion.
The silence between us is broken only by the low thrum of rap music playing through the speakers, its bassline vibrating through the cab. I sink into the soft leather seat, allowing myself to simply exist in the stillness, leaving the unspoken words to hang in the air.
It isn’t until we pull through the entrance of a go-kart racetrack, the neon sign casting flickering colors across the windshield, that I finally break the silence. My spine straightens as the smell of rubber tires and engine exhaust seeps into the cab.
“You can’t be serious, Diego.”
He doesn’t look at me, his hands steady on the wheel as he pulls into a parking spot. The corner of his mouth tugs upward, just enough to ignite my irritation.
“I warned, asked, and begged you not to put me over the wall, and you did it anyway.” His tone holds a hollow sadness to it, catching my attention. “You’re going to race me. If I win, no more walls, you let me in. No matter what.”
This isn’t just a game to him. It’s a line in the sand. A reckoning.
“And if I win?”
The question slips out before I can stop it.
His jaw tightens, the faintest twitch pulling at the corner of his mouth, but his eyes don’t waver from mine.
“If you win . . .” He hesitates, the moment stretching long enough for me to catch the flicker of doubt in his expression. “Then I’ll back off. Completely.”
The words land squarely against my chest, stealing my breath. It’s not a resignation. A challenge wrapped in a promise he doesn’t think I’ll accept. Or maybe one he doesn’t think I can win. But the real question is, do I want this?
I narrow my eyes, leaning forward just enough to close the space between us.
“Completely?”
“Completely.”
No smirk.
No pleading eyes.
Just stone-cold seriousness.
A soberness that twists my stomach into equal parts frustration and intrigue. I glance out at the track, the roar of engines and screech of tires punctuating the thrown gauntlet.
