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My heart squeezes with his confession, but before I can argue any further, Deacon’s voice is calling the racers to the starting line.
“Fuck,” I say.
“You’ve got this baby. Just drive. Don’t focus on him.” He pulls me into a hug and bends down to kiss me before I turn and climb into the car.
Just before I pull up to the finish line, Bodhi approaches the window and bends down.
“Win or lose, I’ve got you.”
His smile should reassure me, but I’m so nervous I feel like I’m going to puke.
This was supposed to just be some random race so that I could earn a little extra cash and get ahead of my payments for the week, and instead, it’s only going to make things ten times worse.
Mateo pulls up beside me, revving his engine, and I do everything I can to keep from looking at him, and he knows it. It doesn’t matter though; I know he’s there.
Deacon signals the start and I take off like a bat out of hell. I know this road, I know this car, and I know what I’m capable of, yet I can’t fight the sinking feeling that says this isn’t going to end well.
There is a turn ahead before the overpass, so I pull inside and manage to pass two other drivers. The road dips down into the tunnels, and the sounds of our cars echo all around us.
I check my rearview and see that Mateo is stuck to me like glue. He matches every move I make, not letting up for a second. I manage to pass another driver, sliding into second place with ease. All that’s left is the straight away.
This is almost too easy. There is no way he’s going to just hang back and let me win, but he isn’t making a move to pass me, either. We pass the mark that indicates the last half-mile stretch, and I know that the next twenty seconds will make or break me tonight.
I shift gears and slide up behind the car in front of me, putting me in first place with only a quarter mile to go. I could cry.
That is until Mateo effortlessly pulls up alongside me. Flashing me a cocky grin, he raises his hand into view and points his first two fingers at me, cocking his thumb as if he were shooting at me. The threat is plain as day.
I let off the gas, watching as he crosses the finish line seconds before me.
I can’t breathe. Everything around me fades away as I slow to a stop, and I realize how wholly and truly fucked I am.
Lost in my own panic, I stay seated, gripping the steering wheel like it’s a life preserver, blind to the crowd circling around us.
Bodhi approaches the car, and it’s then that the severity of the situation sets in.
I just lost his car. I lost the race, and I lost his car, to Mateo, of all people.
Now I’m indebted to Bodhi as well. How am I ever going to pay him back for this? I can’t afford to replace his car. I couldn’t even afford to fix my own… which I didn’t even pay for. I can’t let Bodhi pay for the Camaro. Not after tonight. It’s all too much.
It’s all—
What if he hates me after this? Oh, God… he’ll want to break up. Not that I could blame him.
Shit. Shitshitshit.
He comes up and opens the driver’s side door, offering me his hand as I step out.
“Bodhi… I’m—”
“It’s fine.” His clipped words are ice cold.
“But—”
“Not now, Keaton.”
I bite down on my lip to keep it from wobbling. I will not cry in front of these men.
I take a deep breath and steady myself, rolling my shoulders back and standing up straight even though I feel about two feet tall right now.
