Still, I’d gotten what I wanted. I’d gotten my revenge on Dan, even if deep down I realized that nothing could make me feel better after the two people who mattered most to me had betrayed me behind my back.
The photo Nick had taken had shaken me. I’d never taken photos of Dan and me kissing. For that matter, Dan had never kissed me like that. When I looked at the picture, I got goose bumps. You could see us in it in profile, his lips half-open and pressed into mine, our eyes closed, enjoying the moment. My cheeks were bright red, Nick’s face was hard, cold, irresistible. He really was attractive. Dan would be climbing the walls. I knew it. He was just that egotistical, even if normally he saved his self-centered attitude for other people and didn’t make me a victim of it. I sent him the picture of him cheating, so he’d know I had it.
Then I wrote a text under the photo of Nick and me before sending it.
All I needed was four hours to find a bigger man than you. Thanks for opening my eyes. By the way, in your picture you look like a fish sucking air. Learn to kiss, douchebag!
I looked at the photo of him and Beth kissing.
His face still drew me in, but I knew that with that message, our relationship was over. I would never see him again, and for the first time, I was happy there was a border between us. As for Beth, I just wrote her a two-word message that I sent along with the photo of her and Dan kissing:
We’re done.
I exhaled all the air I’d been holding in. That was it. With that, nine months of romance and seven years of friendship were finished. I felt my eyes grow damp, but I didn’t spill a single tear. To hell with them. They didn’t deserve it.
I put my phone in my back pocket and tried to find Nick. Last I saw him, he was leaning against his black Ferrari and drinking a beer. I turned around and walked straight over to Jenna.
We danced, laughed, entertained ourselves. My new friend was crazy. Now and then she’d run off to make out with her boyfriend, and I’d remember what had happened and feel depressed. I tried to distract myself watching the races; I loved the sport, and it brought back some of my favorite memories from back when going to the races was an everyday thing for me. I noted the techniques of all the different drivers. Nick’s friend was pretty good, but Nick was better. His first race impressed me.
As the night went on, I found myself analyzing the different strategies and asking myself what was missing, how to increase our side’s advantage. The problem was the second curve. If you hit it too slow, you fell behind; if you took it too fast, you risked spinning out.
I was dying to get on the track. I felt like I could do it better. I wanted to feel the wind in my face, the adrenaline in my body that speed always brought with it, feel that control over the car, knowing I was the one telling it where to go.
These thoughts were swirling in my head when I realized the last race was about to begin. This guy Ronnie was racing against Nicholas. If I had the chance, I thought, I could smoke him with my eyes closed.
Everyone had gotten in their cars and driven over to the finish line. Jenna, Lion, and I had to stay behind, but they left for a second to get her car. Nicholas had vanished, too, taking off toward his SUV with that dark-haired bimbo. So there I was, alone, with a rocket ship just waiting for someone to get behind the wheel.
I saw Ronnie walk over to his tuner and glance over at me. He was a scary dude. He was ripped like a gladiator and had hundreds of tattoos all over his arms and back.
“Yo, bae,” he said, leaning his forearms on the hood. “Who are you?”
I was intimidated, but I thought it was smart to answer him.
“Noah,” I said.
“I’ve been watching you,” he admitted. “I know how to tell a chick who knows this game from one who’s just standing around. And you know this game,” he said, slapping the hood.
“I might have raced a time or two,” I said, wondering where everyone else was. I didn’t like the way that dude was looking at me; he gave me the creeps.
“I can imagine,” he replied. “Why don’t you race me then?”
Was he really proposing what I thought he was proposing?
“You’re supposed to race Nicholas,” I said doubtfully.
“Yeah, but Nicholas ain’t here, is he?”
I felt the adrenaline coursing through my veins. Racing again. That was what I wanted. What I needed. And it was true—Nicholas wasn’t there to tell me no.
“I don’t think it’s a good idea,” I said, biting my lip but seeing the keys of the Ferrari in the ignition.
Ronnie clicked his tongue and walked over slowly.
It’s actually a great idea, I thought. But I kept that to myself.
“Nick already got behind the wheel tonight. And it’s about time he lets a woman try, no?”
Guys like Nick were the reason nobody took girls like me seriously.
“Or are you scared?” Ronnie added. He knew how to hit me where it hurt.
That infuriated me, and I was sure he could see my answer on my face before I opened my mouth.
“You’re on,” I said with a smirk. He grinned back at me.
“Good job, Precious. See you at the starting line.”
I knew what he was thinking: that he could beat me like a cheap rug. Well, I hate to tell you, Ronnie, but I forgot to mention that you’re racing against the daughter of a NASCAR champ.
* * *
The car was dope. Leather seats, impeccable body, and the roar of that motor…what a pleasure, what memories. I slid it into gear and rolled slowly to the starting line. No one knew who was inside. No one but my adversary.
I smiled like a little kid. I didn’t want to think about the consequences, didn’t want to think of how Nick would probably kill me; I just wanted to have fun.
Come on, Ronnie, you hard-ass.
When the flags gave the signal, I stomped the accelerator, and in under a second, I was off. It was moving, liberating, relaxing, scary… Nothing could have been better. I hadn’t done anything like that in years. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d done something for me, something I liked, something that didn’t have to do with my mom or her husband or my ex-boyfriend or ex-best friend. I was free, free as a bird, and in a state of pure ecstasy.
Ronnie was gunning it next to me. I stepped down harder and shouted like crazy as I glided past the first curve, leaving him behind.
“Hell yes!” I shouted.
But the second curve was fast approaching, and that was the tough one. So I asked myself the million-dollar question: slow down and avoid danger or push it to the limit and risk running off the track?
Needless to say, I chose the second.
I accelerated while calculating the absolute minimum I could slow down at the key moment to round the curve in safety.
When I saw it up close, I realized it was tighter than I’d thought at first. Shit. I was going to start spinning out. I braked and jerked the wheel with all my strength, heard the sand hitting the car, the tires squealing under the abuse.
I clenched my jaw and shouted when I made it through without killing myself. The motor growled, telling me to go faster, and who was I to say no?
“Yes!” I shrieked, seeing Ronnie behind me, almost on my bumper. In his reflection in the mirror, his face was enraged. He knew he was losing.
“Suck it!” I shouted in bliss. “All you big-shot macho dickheads can suck it!”
I’d made it through the hard part. The rest was a cakewalk. I sped up toward the finish line. Another mile or two and I had him. My heart was racing, I was thrilled… =and then Ronnie hit me from behind. I lurched forward, and the seat belt dug into my chest.
“You fucker!” I said and gripped the wheel tighter. Ronnie was a maniac; he kept slowing down and speeding up, trying to ram me again. I rocked to one side to avoid a third attempt, but he followed me, this time striking me to the right. That son of a bitch was destroying my car!
I pulled right quickly and gave him a taste of his own medicine, almost breaking off his side mirror, and when I saw he was distracted and more pissed off than ever, I put the pedal to the floor, ready to reach my destination.