“That’s my firecracker,” I say with pride as we both walk toward the neon yellow car. There’s no discussion. No debate. No questioning looks. And that’s because highlighter yellow is clearly the best choice. Our car will look like a freaking comet when we whiz past the rest of the slow pokes on the track.
We pull on our helmets and buckle in as Ricky goes over the rules and guidelines. I can feel Viv practically vibrating with excitement in the seat next to me, and I send a silent prayer of thanks to Blue, and Ollie and the guys for forcing my hand and taking the plunge. I know this isn’t a real date, but it feels good to be out in the world, and not just in the bubble of my bedroom. Don’t get me wrong—that’s a fucking awesome bubble. But this is fun, too, and I get the feeling that the other guys Viv has spent time with haven’t been big on taking her out and having a good time.
I want her to see that I’m different.
Yeah, I love her body.
I love making her scream, making her thighs tremble, making her grab hold of my headboard so hard I think the wood might splinter.
I love pleasing her and teasing her.
Hell, I just love her.
And I want her to see that.
“Go! Oh my freaking god, Mickey! Hit the gas!” The woman of my dreams is screeching in my ear, so I do the only sensible thing and put the pedal to the metal. We’re careening down the track, laughing as we take the first corner a little faster thanRicky advised. I don’t care though, because the woman beside me is having the time of her life, and that’s really all that matters.
We’re weaving in and out of the lanes, wheels eating up the road as we take our first lap. There’s a middle-aged couple in front of us in a blue car taking their sweet damn time like we’re all out for a Sunday drive, and there’s a couple of high school kids next to us crowding our space. I’m keeping pace with them while simultaneously trying not to run anybody off the road. I’m not tryna get kicked out of this place.
But, apparently, Viv is.
“You need to get the lead out, Carl!” she yells pointing ahead of us.
“Do you know him?” I ask, turning the wheel sharply to avoid the teenagers who really seem to be all up in our shit.
“No, but I’d bet my new bra collection that his name is Carl.”
I swear to god the guy turns his head toward us as we bolt forward and leave him in the dust. And I have to fucking gun it because the freaking high school kids are up so far up my ass that we nearly collide on the next turn. I ease up just enough to let them through, but that’s got Viv raging next to me.
“That was a dirty fucking move,” she says. “You need to take them out, Mickey.”
“Uh, we’re not in a gangster movie,” I remind her.
“Yeah, well, they can still EAT SHIT!” she yells as we gain on them. The kid in the passenger seat turns back toward us and almost pisses his damn pants. Because yes, we absolutely are going to win this race. And also yes, my date is fucking hot.
I’m seconds away from taking the lead when the asshole teenager hits the brake.
Holy fuckballs. It’s a miracle we don’t go flying or that Ricky doesn’t flag him and shut the track down. Somehow, though, we manage to stay in one piece, but that doesn't do anything to calm Viv or her nerves. Or her sassy-as-hell mouth.
“Oh, that’s okay,” she yells in the direction of the teenagers. “A lot of people have trouble telling the gas from the brake before they’re old enough to fucking drive.”
They speed off around the track again, but I’m hot on their tail, partly because I want to hear what Viv’s gonna sling at them next. More cars join us on the track and I’m having way too much fun weaving in and out of lanes and satisfying my own need for speed.
There’s a guy I recognize from my Econ class last year and a pair of girls who only seem to be interested in pursuing one car: the teenage assholes. Fucking great. We’re literally in the middle of a teenage romance right now, Not for long, though, because the guys slow down to look at their admirers, letting us slide right past them, and into first place.
Viv squealing’s like we’ve already won, and I’m just trying to keep my hands on the wheel even though she’s got both her arms hooked around my right one and she’s holding on for dear life. She hollers, “Sucks to suck!” at some random car, but all I can do is laugh as I take the last turn and drive us across the finish line to victory.
19
Mickey
This has literally been the best night. It’s exactly what I needed to get me out of my funk after my meeting at Academic Affairs and my call with Mom.
Go-karting with Viv was a thrill I never knew I needed, and the pizza at Slice of Heaven is even better than what we make back in Jersey. I’m not ever telling my boss that, but it’s true.
And right now, we’re headed back to campus, and Viv’s got her hand in mine.
Life feels pretty fucking perfect, and I wonder if she’d notice if I took a few wrong turns just to spend a little extra time with her. I mean, yeah, we’re on our way back to my place. And we share a bed. But the hockey house can get a little crazy. And okay, I’m usually the cause of that craziness. I don’t know why I want to stay out a little later. Maybe it’s because there’s a vibe back there that we’re Mickey and Viv, two best friends who can’t keep our hands to ourselves.
