We both focused out of the windshield, silent.

“Ready?” Zack shouted, and I smiled as Tate revved the engine. “Set?” I turned up the music again and braced myself.

I hoped for the best but wouldn’t be surprised if Tate decided to purposefully crash my baby as revenge.

“Go!”

She slammed on the gas, breathing hard and breaking into a wild smile with the excitement of the moment. Maybe it was the feeling of a different car, or maybe it was the thrill of competition, but she was zoned in. Her eyes watched the road like it was her prey, and her fingers worked the stick shift hard and fast.

I watched her muscle handled my muscle, and I shook my head.

Porn.

“The first turn comes up fast,” I spoke up, getting my head back in the game.

Tate said nothing, but it looked like she stopped breathing as she applied the brake and started rounding the first corner.

Adrenaline pooled in my chest, and I clenched my teeth, ready to shout at her to slow down more. She was ahead—not much of a surprise there—but the Trans Am could easily catch up if she got off track.

Checking the rearview mirror, I saw Roman’s car gaining speed, and gripped the dash harder. Fucking Roman. If Tate wasn’t gone by the time it made the turn, they’d slam us.

“Hit the gas!” I yelled after she’d straightened out the car. “And don’t turn so hard. You’re losing time correcting yourself.”

“Who’s in first place?” she replied haughtily. “Don’t get cocky.”

But she didn’t listen. She only turned up the music and slammed the stick shift into sixth. We shot forward, and I tensed up but not from nervousness.

I didn’t feel helpless right now, which was weird. Normally, I wanted to be in control, and riding shotgun bugged the hell out of me but now? I liked watching her.

“Next turn is coming. You need to slow down,” I ordered.

She folded her lips between her teeth, but the car’s engine wasn’t slowing down.

What the hell was she doing?

I pinched my eyebrows at her and made my voice deeper. “Tatum, you need to slow down.” Yeah, that didn’t work.

My heart beat faster the closer we got to the turn, and I grabbed the dash helplessly with both hands as Tate skidded around the corner and spun the wheel left, then right, and then left again to get centered. She was quick, and she and the car were one. It wasn’t smooth or clean. It was fast and dangerous.

“Don’t do that again.” I wanted her safe.

She was going to win, anyway. Roman’s car was behind, and I cringed at the tongue-lashing his girlfriend was probably getting.

Tate didn’t need to be reckless. Not in a car anyway.

I spewed a few more orders her way during the next turn, to which she fucking ignored, and we advanced on the final turn at a significant gain. Slowing down to about thirty miles an hour, Tate looked over at me and smiled sweetly.

“Is this okay, Ms. Daisy?”

Date: 2015-02-16; view: 639