Traction (The Driven World)

“You’ve been rather distant,” she complains, sidling closer to me, but my gaze leaves hers, and I find the breathtaking stranger glancing over at us. Her eyes are the most beautiful glassy, dark pools I’ve ever seen. From where I’m standing, I can’t tell if they’re brown or black, but they’re endless, and they are most definitely orbs I’d love to get lost in.

“I know.” It’s nothing new that they come back for more, but my attention has been caught by the breathtaking beauty. I glance over at the hot tub once more, noting she looks a lot younger than I am. I wonder briefly how old she is. Possibly nineteen, but no more than twenty.

“Wish you would just call to say hi,” the woman beside me says.

“I haven’t called because I ended it with you, Sadie.”

“Unfortunately,” she huffs, drawing my attention back to her with a nail tracing a path from my chest down to my abs. Her hand is closing in on my crotch when I grab her wrist, stopping her in her tracks. “Too good for me, Kayd?” she questions, looking up at me from under long, black lashes that don’t match the blonde shade of her hair.

“No, Sadie. I don’t want this anymore. We had fun. That was it. I don’t put rings on any girl’s finger.” My voice is ice cold, and my words cause her to flinch. I want to feel bad, but I don’t. I’ve tried to be nice, to let her down easy, but if she continues these games, I’m going to have to be tough on her and be the asshole they expect me to be.

“Fine.” She tugs her hand away from me. “Just don’t come running back to me when you need a shoulder to cry on,” she bites out, reminding me of the night I broke down. I was so drunk I can’t remember much of that night, but I do recall telling her about my father’s death. About how torn up I was.

“Don’t worry, I won’t.” I turn and walk away, needing space from what just happened. The girl in the hot tub is still there, and even though I’d like to go to her, I need a moment to calm the fuck down. Sadie has always had this effect on me, sending me into a blinding rage, and it’s what she loved. We fucked angry, and we were always so volatile.

It’s why we could never work.

I lean against the wall, practically hiding in the shadows. I swallow back the drink I’d been nursing, wishing the alcohol could calm me.

I need to escape.

Just tonight.

At least, that’s what I tell myself, even though I know it’s not true.

I can never escape the pain. And I don’t deserve to.1HaeleeMy lungs pull in air too quickly, but my legs carry me farther down the road as I make my way back home. It doesn’t feel much like home anymore, not since Dad died, and it hurts so much to walk into the living room, not seeing him.

So, I run.

Even though Mom is there, waiting for me with breakfast on the table, I still force myself out every morning. As I make my way down our road, I see an expensive-looking car parked out front.

We don’t live in the most affluent part of town, and we don’t know anyone who drives shiny cars with silver rims. I would know. I drive Dad’s old Beemer, and that’s only because I’ve been focused on fixing up the old Mustang he bought on my seventeenth birthday.

Dad was the one who taught me about cars.

That’s where my love of fixing up the beauties came from. Over the past year, I’ve been getting better at racing. Which brings me to the car sitting along our sidewalk. I stop to take it in. The shiny metal glints at me, almost as if it’s winking. And I have to smile.

My mother hates that I get behind a wheel to race with the local guys around town. She’s tried to ground me, but I’m an adult, and she can’t stop me from going. However, being twenty doesn’t stop Mom from wanting to keep me in the house where she can watch over me. And that’s why I race—not only because I miss my dad and I know he’d be proud, but because I want to get out of the house. Dad taught me how to drive, how to race, and he gave me the love of a fast car.

“Gorgeous, isn’t she?” A voice comes from behind me, and I turn to find one of my idols sauntering from my house. Colton freaking Donavan is walking out of my home.

I open my mouth to respond, but I can’t find words. On the tip of my tongue, there’s a girlish squeal I could emit, but that would only embarrass me even more than I already am, so instead, I nod.