Traction (The Driven World)

“As I said, it’s my company. I’ll make any decision I want. See you when I have the contracts drawn up.” I hang up before he can say anything more and saunter into the garage, as I hold out my hand to one of the head mechanics. I don’t even know his name, but right now, I need to race.

He knows what I want because a second later, there’s a set of keys in my hand. Without taking too much time, I suit up, grabbing a helmet, and ensuring my zip has hissed its way to my neck. Once my safety gear is on, I head to the car and slip into the driver’s seat.

The engine purrs, rumbling around me like a surround-sound echo. The vibration sets my blood alight, and I can’t help the calmness that washes over me.

I could never explain what racing does for me. There’s no way to describe just what it makes me feel, but all I know is, I was born to sit in this seat. Pulling out onto the track, I put my foot down, zero to sixty in a couple of seconds. The force of the acceleration knocking me back, causing a laugh to fall from my lips.

I speed down a long straight, enjoying the scenery rushing by. Nothing is in focus as the blur of green and the boards that sit on the sidelines speed by.

As I take my first lap, my mind skitters back to last night. The party, Sadie, and the girl with the beautiful eyes. The one with those curves I could speed around with my tongue. I’d love to taste and taunt her and make her cry out my name over and over again.

One thing I learned is that speed turns me on. After a race, there’s always a willing body to sink into. And for a moment, I wish that tanned beauty were here. I would love to devour every inch of her.

My hands work the gears, my feet hitting the pedals. But my mind is on her. If I knew her name, I could probably find her. But she disappeared before I had the chance to even approach her. She looked like she didn’t belong there. As if she was new to the scene, and that makes me wonder if I’ll ever see her again.

One night with that caramel goddess, and I’ll be in fucking heaven. By the third lap, I see Colton waving me in, and I slow down as I reach the starting line on the track. He steps toward me when I come to a stop, and he leans in to greet me.

“Listen up. I have a task for you,” he says. “There’s a new racer I want to test out. The car over there.” He gestures with his chin to the other driver who’s just pulled up. “I want you to do one lap. Let’s see how you both fare.”

“Sure, I can do that.”

He offers a grin and nods before heading back into the pit. I can’t see anything in the other car, so I have no idea how young this guy is, but I’m going to make him eat my fucking dust. Once the sound goes, I put my foot down and speed away, but my competition is hot on my heels.

I gear up when I need to, taking the turns, but this guy is good because when I take the corner on the inside, he takes it on the out and overtakes me easily. I’ve never lost. That word doesn’t fit into my vocabulary. But right now, it looks like I’m going to come in second.

And that’s not going to fly.

I work the car, but the asshole is taking the corners and bends like a pro, not allowing me to pass. It’s something I learned early on in my racing career—if you can stop your competition from passing you, overtaking you, then you do it. No matter what.

I’ve done it a few times when I needed to, but the more I’m pushed back, the more frustration burns in my veins. After this morning’s phone call, and now it seems Colton is testing me, I can’t stop the irritation from taking hold.

He said this is a new driver, but whoever it is, rides like someone who knows what they’re doing. There are a few mishaps here and there, especially with the last S-bend, but other than that, the race is clean, easy even.

After we come into the pits and the engines die off, leaving us in silence, I’m out of the car, pulling off the helmet and making my way to the new racer who’s slowly getting out of the car.

“What the fuck was that, man?” I ask, and he must know what the fuck I’m talking about because he did cut me off, swerve around so I couldn’t overtake. And it makes me angry, even though I can’t spot him for being wrong.