We fucking won!
“Holy shit, we whooped his ass!”
I turn back to tell Amy how grateful I am for everything, but she’s been swept up by a gaggle of groupies.
Call it the stress of having my baby stolen, the fear I’d never see the Dodge again, or that heart-stopping race—I don’t exactly know what’s going on inside me, but I’m buzzing. This might just be the happiest day of my life.
I stumble out of the car and push my way through the throng, lifting Amy off her feet.
“You’re my hero, Firebird!”
Gently, I set her down, and the world tilts as I pull her in for a kiss.
12AMY
Every race puts me in this same kind of nervous state. They mess with my head—pins and needles, cotton mouth, and this fleeting, feverish feel. Throw in a little adrenaline and the excitement of a solid challenge, plus memories of all those times I would sneak out of bed to watch Dad race, and I know the drill. I know these feelings like the back of my hand, and yeah, I’ll admit it—I missed them.
I stomp my feet to work off the tension and glance over at my car. Lewis is still sitting there. He probably needs a moment to take it all in, and I don’t blame him.
We won.
We came in first.
I like seeing him in my Pontiac like that, I realize.
Before I have time to dwell on it, I’m being swept up by the crowd. I keep my eyes on Tyler. There are too many people around for him to try any funny business, and I know he’s harmless, really—but I plan on watching my back all the same.
I’m still staring him down when I see Lewis picking his way through the knot of fans, yelling something at me I can’t understand. He’s moving too fast for me to make sense of it.
And too fast for me to respond when he swoops in for a kiss.
It’s barely anything—just a feather-soft, sweet brush of his lips against mine—but my head spins anyway. And suddenly the day feels like too much—too loud, too fast, too full of him.
I don’t know if this is something he actually wants, or if I’m just the nearest place to unload all that coiled tension inside him, but my heart is beating so hard it’s painful. I freeze-frame his smile, the happiness shining in his eyes, tucking it away in my memory, because I already know I’m going to need it later.
Then I shove him away.
This isn’t me. I am not this girl—the one who melts at kisses. I can’t be her. Not now.
I put more distance between us before I can change my mind.
“Let’s get the key they had made, and get the hell out of here,” I suggest as I stride over to the Dodge. “Hang back, Conley. Just hold your horses until I figure this shit out.”
“You aresucha buzzkill.”
My steps slow the closer I get to Tyler. He’s eyeballing me, jaw tight, nostrils flared. People are flocking in a circle around us, and the moment is perfect.
“You put up a good fight,” I start, sizing him up.
“How’d you do it?”
“You thought apickupwould be enough to take me down?”
I shoot him my nastiest smirk before jerking my chin at the Dodge. Tyler glances this way and that, looking for backup.
Not happening, buddy.
Even his actual friends are nowhere to be seen. Everyone stares at him expectantly. We all know the rules—and anyway, this washischallenge. A bethethrew down on the table.Game over, bitch!
