Traction (The Driven World)

“I didn’t stay that long. A few tequilas later, and I was in bed.”

“Alone?”

“And I ask again … Jealous?”

She quickly glances at me, but then moves her attention back to the track. The tension in the car is skyrocketing with every second that passes, and I can’t help but grin at her frustration that’s slowly fueling her driving.

She’s getting better; her gear shifts are smoother, and she’s taking the corners at the best speed for the car. Over the past couple of sessions, she’s been learning how to handle the vehicle even though I haven’t done too much to show her.

“You know, you’re not my father,” she tells me suddenly as she takes a bend took quickly, and the wobble in her driving is evident. I briefly wonder about her family, her parents, how she grew up.

Was it any different from my life? But I quickly shake off the thought.

“I didn’t claim to be,” I tell her, keeping my gaze focused on the track as we speed through the start line, and it disappears quickly beneath us.

“Then don’t act like it.” Her biting tone is scathing, but I grew up with a mother who hates me and talks to me like I’m nothing but a nuisance, so Haelee can try to hurt me all she wants with words. It won’t work.

“Me wanting to protect you doesn’t mean I’m trying to act like your dad. Nobody can replace a parent,” I inform her, keeping my tone cool.

I thought this session would go one way, but it’s most certainly taking a bend in a direction I wasn’t expecting. Suddenly, I glance over and notice the soft, glistening emotion that spills from her lashes, and even though I can’t see it trickle down her cheek, I know it’s there.

Fuck.9HaeleeFrustration ebbs through me, flowing into my legs as I maneuver the car around the track. I can feel his tension beside me, and it’s making me angry. The more I focus on Kayden, the faster we go. My foot pumps the clutch, my hand shoves the vehicle into fifth, and soon the clock is nearing max speed.

I know what I’m doing. I’ve known how to drive since I was old enough to understand the dynamics. Dad always ensured I was there, ready to take on the world. And the more I fell in love with racing, the closer he and I became.

“Slow down.” Two words filter into my mind across the console from Kayden. But I ignore him. I hate him. He’s an arrogant asshole who needs to realize that this is the twenty-first century. “I said slow down,” he murmurs again, but the deep tone of his voice ensures I cast a quick glance at his serious expression.

“I know what I’m doing, coach,” I bite out, breaking into the curve, then accelerating out of it. The fury burning the right side of my face comes from teal eyes. There’s no other way to describe them. They’re endless, like a lake amongst the mountains. If he weren’t so annoying, I might even find him attractive.

“Haelee, I said fucking slow down.” This time, his voice booms through the tight space of the car, and I take another S-turn before gearing down to fourth, then third, and then I pull up the handbrake, sending us skidding in circles, but I control the vehicle like a professional, doing a donut in the middle of the track before coming to a complete stop.

I push open my car door as anger tackles every nerve in my body. My feet are already moving when Kayden reaches for my arm and grips me, spinning me to face him. Those eyes I deemed beautiful are pure fury.

He pulls off his helmet, chucking it on the seat, and I’m assaulted by the full force of just how handsome he is. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”

“What the fuck is wrong with me?” The shock in my voice is clear. My helmet is next to go as I swing it onto the car seat beside his. He’s being the asshole, and he’s asking what my problem is. That’s rich. What a condescending jerk.

“Yeah, you’re acting like a petulant teenager, and I know you’re no longer in your fucking teens,” he bites out, eyes glowing as he takes me in, and for a second, I’m sure I see a hint of desire. But I brush it off and ignore the warning bells ringing in my head.

“You’re a condescending asshole, and I don’t like being spoken to like I’m a child because I’m not. Let’s get one thing straight. I’ve been driving since I was barely thirteen. I know what I’m doing.”

“Like fuck you do,” he grits through clenched teeth, and I can’t deny myself the pleasure of seeing his jaw tick with frustration.

“Oh? And you’re so fucking good? I beat you,” I remind him, pointing my finger at him, hitting him in the chest. It’s hard as solid concrete. Pushing back the thoughts that invade my mind at that tidbit of information, I lock my glare on him.