Page 17 of Fueled Hate

“I said … you don’t belong here.” His pseudo-confidence slips as frustration laces his tone. He’s not used to someone not jumping at his command and his pitch borders on that of a moody child. He really should prepare himself because me following his orders wouldn’t be in the cards even if fate hadn’t already dealt the hand.

“Shouldn’t you be with your girl, celebrating your great victory?”

Anger covers his expression, confirming what I already knew, control is his vice and Sadie is his weak spot. I plan to exploit both to make him as miserable as he makes everyone else, Sadie particularly.

He quickly tamps it down, covering his rage with a smug smirk as he takes a step closer. “I’ll be driving into that pussy later tonight.”

The visceral image that floods my head doesn’t allow me to mask my disgust—or jealousy—but in the end, I have a feeling he won’t be going anywhere near her from that show he put on earlier. “Are you sure about that?” He’s not, otherwise his pitiful ass wouldn’t feel so threatened at every moment.

“Just watch and see. You can hang around, hoping for a shot, but she will always come back to me. You’ll never be able to compete with me,” he smugly looks to my car then back to me, “on the track or off.”

“I’m sure we’ll find out soon enough … on both counts.” I’ll enjoy handing his ass to him on the track and even more off. Someone needs to put this pretentious prick in his place, and I’ll gladly do the honors.

“Tomorrow night. If you can even make it through preliminaries with that, I’ll enjoy every second of whipping your ass all over the track, then taking my girl out for a victory lap.”

Fuck, I’m going to enjoy this more than I should for so many reasons. “I’ll be here.”

“If you get scared, just crawl back into the hole you crawled out of. No one would blame you for not showing. We’d actually understand, given the situation.”

“Wishful thinking.”

“Whoa, no one told me the party was over here!” Bryce slaps me on the shoulder, turning to Kyle who is less than amused. “Why the sourpuss face, champ?”

“Tomorrow,” Kyle says, taking a moment to attempt one more intimidating look before walking away to join a group surrounding his precious ZR1.

“What did you do to poke the bear?” Bryce snickers as we watch the group swarm Kyle, all talking and laughing while Kyle keeps a pissy stare directed at me.

“Nothing,” I say flatly, pushing off my car.

“Damn. Well, at least you’ve got the mind game part accomplished. Now bring your driving skills.”

“Not a problem.” It’s been a play Bryce and I have made over the years. Racing isn’t about the fastest car or best driver, sometimes it’s as big of a mental battle as a physical one. Because when you’re not in the right headspace, you make stupid, deadly decisions. Ones that could cost a life.

“Are you driving the STI?”

“Yep.”

“Good choice,” Bryce agrees. Because he knows what’s under the hood. Unlike Kyle who judges everything only from its superficial appearance. Once again, a massive misstep on his part. I know better than anyone, nothing is ever how it appears on the surface.

12

Sadie

Why did I arrive early? Now I’m sitting in government class, trying to jot down some notes, willing myself not to look over my shoulder every time someone enters the room. There’s a moment of regret that I didn’t look back when I hear a familiar voice beside me.

“Morning, babe,” Kyle says, stepping in front of me, taking a seat in the chair next to me—Willow’s seat to be exact.

“Class is about to start. You really need to go.” I resume my notes.

“I’m in this class.”

My hand stops mid-stroke as I slowly look over to him, noting a satisfied grin on his face. “What are you talking about?”

“I figured we could spend some extra time together, maybe be study buddies or something.”

In our freshman year, and even before that in high school, we’ve never been study buddies, so it’s not exactly something I expected Kyle to come up with. “No. We’re not going to be study buddies or anything else. Do you even remember last night?”

“Yeah,” he says softly, a look of what is maybe regret on his face. “I’m sorry. I was hurt and humiliated because you pushed me away.”