Book 4 - Page 60 (1/2)

His brake lights flashed, and I tightened my grip on the steering wheel, seeing him skid around the next corner.

s.h.i.+t.

Hitting the gas, I s.h.i.+fted straight into fifth, skipping fourth altogether and spinning around the turn. The rotten thing about my car was that it was about three hundred pounds heavier than his, so he could maneuver quicker and easier.

Shooting back into third, I hit the gas, charged ahead, and shot back up to fifth and then sixth. Jared’s muscle car looked like a rocket blowing up rainwater on the track as it raced ahead toward the next turn.

I tensed my thigh muscles, feeling a thrill creep up my insides.

d.a.m.n, he was hot. I couldn’t see him through his blacked-out windows, but he was still managing to turn me the h.e.l.l on.

Surfing around the next turn, I charged ahead, staying on my right as Jared plowed toward me, and I let out a laugh as he pa.s.sed.

I loved racing him. I always felt the rush, and no matter whom else I’d raced, nothing felt as good.

A chill spread over my skin, despite the hoodie, and I didn’t hesitate to barrel around the next turn, charging ahead.

I didn’t want to win or need to win, but I wanted to have this with him.

My music cut off, and my phone started ringing on the touch screen. I pressed Accept Call.

“Yes?” I answered.

“What happens if I win?” Jared asked, and his velvet voice caressed my skin.

I hesitated, not sure how to answer. “Then . . .” I searched for words. “Then I guess I trust that you’ll always give me your best.”

He was quiet, and I could hear the crowd ahead.

“And if I lose?” he asked, sounding unusually sad. “Will you still trust that I gave you my best?”

A lump rose in my throat, and I blinked away the sudden tears.

“Jared.” I folded my lips between my teeth, trying not to cry. He wanted to know if I trusted him.

“I can’t promise I’ll wake up every day operating at a hundred percent, Tate,” he admitted. “No one can.”

I heard his voice change as he struggled to round the last turn, and I s.h.i.+fted down, doing the same, the steering wheel trying to pull against me as I skidded.

“But”—he breathed hard from the exertion—“I can promise I’ll always put you first.”

“Then, prove it,” I urged in a thoughtful voice. “Meet my match.”

I shot down into fifth and then up into sixth, seeing his lights ahead.

This was it. One of us was going between the barriers, and the other would be forced to take the lane to the outside, and he was f.u.c.king with my head right now, and I just wanted him to race.

“Tate . . . ,” he said in a hesitant voice.

“Jared, just go,” I pressed. “It’s you. It’s only you. You’re the only one who challenges me, so challenge me! Don’t hold back. I trust you.”

I squeezed the wheel, my eyebrows pinching together as I pressed myself back into the seat.

Go, go, go . . .

Shooting for the starting line, I pushed the gas to the floor, seeing him charge ahead, both of us in the path marked by the barriers.

“Tate!” he barked.

“Go!” I yelled.

Jax had lines marked on the track, giving drivers notice for their last chance to exit, but judging my s.p.a.ce, I knew I was going to make it.