All the Little Secrets (English Prep 2)

I quickly typed, I’ll be out soon, got some shit to do, and I threw my phone in the backseat. Resting my back along the leather, I wiggled my fingers a few times before wrapping them around my steering wheel again. I revved the gas as I pulled up to the starting line next to a blue Charger much like mine.

I guess we'll see if this guy is as good as me.

“Are you boys ready?”

My lip curled at the blonde babe standing between the two cars. Adrenaline spiked my blood, and my heart went into triple speed, pounding against my ribcage. I basked in the control I felt sitting there, waiting for the go-ahead. My foot ached to smash the gas as I brought my RPMs up, waiting. My hand held the shift stick as if it were my own fucking dick, ready to go on a wild fucking ride.

“Get ready,” the blonde girl shouted. I trailed my eyes down her bare legs, appreciating how short her shorts were despite the cool evening air. My blood pumped faster and faster as I scanned the crowd full of reckless teens all ready to watch the spinning wheels of our cars. “Get set.” My teeth clenched together, my jaw as tight as a rubber band. “GO!”

My foot hit the gas, and I gunned it from the get-go. Dust flew all around me, so much that it was difficult to see, but I’d been on this road many times in the last few months. I knew where I was going. I was in control. I was the one making the rules here. I shifted a few times, going around the second curve, and then, I heard nothing. I had no clue if the other Charger was close to me or if he fucking drove into a tree. Being in this car gave me a sudden rush of exhilaration that soared through my body. My heart pumped with massive amounts of adrenaline which carried me further into an abyss, and that was exactly what I needed.

Distraction at its finest.

I passed the finish line as a deep breath escaped my mouth, my tires squealing as I fishtailed to stop myself from going any farther. I paused, sitting with my back against my seat, my pulse still thumping underneath my skin, as I waited for the other Charger to catch up to me.

Fucking pussy.

I knew I’d beat him.

He probably didn’t even know how to handle a car like that.

My phone dinged from the backseat just as my opponent came into view. I pushed my arm out the window and held up a number one to him. Better luck next time, bud.

A few guys with their cameras still out sent the text back to the ringleader of the races, Frankie, some washed-up guy from Wellington Prep who apparently flunked out of college, to let him know I won the race.

A sense of pride washed over me, but it did nothing to fill the gap inside my chest that was rapidly splitting back open like a fresh cut to my skin. A few minutes of racing and the high was already gone. So much build up for it to just disappear within seconds afterward.

But those few minutes of feeling nothing, worrying about nothing, hiding nothing, were worth it. They were so fucking worth it.

As soon as I drove back to the starting line, I parked off to the side and climbed out of my car. My lips tipped at the electric-blue Charger, the guy inside probably feeling like a complete fucking fraud of a man for racing such a shitty race, but someone had to lose, and it wasn’t going to be me, that was for sure.

“Good race, my man. Good fucking race!” Brandon came over and slapped me on the shoulder and brought me in for a stiff bro hug.

“It wasn’t hard,” I bemused as I pulled myself back. His girl was still staring at me with those fuck-me eyes, and I silently said, Thanks, but no thanks. I didn’t share girls, even for a night.

My phone dinged again as I watched Frankie splitting money for the race. I got a cut if I won, so tonight I made some money, but it would likely just go right back into next weekend’s race.

Reaching into my backseat, I pulled out my phone as one of Frankie’s girls handed me my money. “Thanks, babe.” I winked as I brushed my finger over the inside of her wrist before swiping the dollar bills from her. She blushed as she put her other hand up to her mouth, softly biting her thumb in the process. See, too easy.

One of Brandon’s friends piped up as I began looking at my texts. “You down for next weekend’s race, too? They might move you up a bracket. What is that, like, four weeks in a row that you’ve won?”

I scanned my screen as he continued to go on about my racing.

Christian: You going to Eric’s tonight?

I’m with Hayley. We’re going to watch a movie at the house before she goes back to Ann’s, then I’ll head out for a bit.

Ann = Hayley’s ex-social-worker who she now lived with.

I swiped that text away and looked at the next.

Eric: Dope. Squad is here, except Christian since he is pussy-whipped by Hay.

I snickered as I gave the guy rambling about my racing a slight nod, pretending that I was listening to him.

The next text had me pausing for a beat.

Hayley: Did you end up checking on Piper last night? I saw you leave Eric’s for a few shortly after she left.