“YOU’RE MORE THAN WELCOME TO STAY THE NIGHT,” I tell Addie as soon as Cody and Conor have closed the door behind them.
They didn’t pass up the chance to theatrically bounce their eyebrows at me as I saw them off.
Assholes.
“It’ll be easier in the morning,” I continue, “but I’m going out in half an hour and won’t be back until two or three in the morning, so c’mon. I’ll show you around before I take off.”
“Wait, you’re leaving?” Her wide, questioning eyes latch onto mine. “Where are you going?”
“Out. Come on, I don’t have much time. You know where the bedroom is, and I—” I stop mid-stride, glancing over my shoulder when I realize she’s not following. “Something wrong?” I ask, my voice softening at the deep lines etched into her usually bright face.
As if roused from a trance, she swallows hard, wiping the sadness from her expression. “No, nothing, I’m fine.” She straightens her back, heading toward the exit. “I’ll get going. Don’t worry about tomorrow. Will it be okay if I pick up my car next week? I shouldn’t drive after all that wine.”
Two wrinkles crawl onto my forehead. She seems shaken up, annoyed even. I catch her wrist as she tries to pass, halting her in place. “What’s wrong? We agreed I’m coming with you.”
“No.” She wiggles free, her voice tight. “It’s fine. I’m sorry, I… I…” She releases an exasperated huff, replacing the hurt-kitten look with a stern face. “It didn’t occur to me you were seeing someone. It seemed improbable given the Express Dates.”
“What?” I spit out. As stunned as I am by her assumption, I can’t deny the sadness painting her face is a fucking kicker. She’s disappointed I might have a girlfriend. A real one. “You think I’m leaving you here to go see another girl?”
“Where else could you go this late on Saturday?”
A smile breaks out across my face. I look her up and down, making a split-second decision. No way I’ll let her think I’m hooking up with someone else.
“How easily do you scare?” I ask.
“Um… not that easily, I don’t think.”
“Alright, you can tag along if you want, but there are rules, Audrey. One, you do everything I say without fail. Two, you stick with me at all times, and three, if you ever meet my older brothers, you don’t breathe a word of this to them. We clear?”
She folds her arms over her chest. “Where are we going?”
“You’ll see. My girl trusts me,” I say, putting a special emphasis on my girl. “Something tells me you’ll enjoy it.”
She takes a deep breath, nervously twisting her fingers. “Okay. I follow orders, I stick with you, and when I meet your brothers, I know nothing about this.”
“Good. Grab that wine, and let’s get moving.”
***
Addie fills the car with endless chatter as we drive, not once asking about our destination. There’s a thrum of anticipation underneath her light banter though, a quiver in her voice that betrays nervous excitement.
She’s a peculiar little thing: refused a drink when we first met but climbs into my car tonight no questions asked.
I could take her anywhere. Literally anywhere. It’s not like she’s strong enough to fight me off.
Looks like she trusts me, odd as that is. What’s more… I trust her. God knows why, but I do. Enough that I’m revealing a secret I’ve cloistered away from my family for over a year.
“We’re almost there,” I say, cutting through her chatter.
She falls silent, gazing out the window, big brown eyes wide and eager.
The desert stretches to the horizon, lifeless under the California sky. The rumble of my engine and Addie’s breathing are the only sounds piercing the silence.
We haven’t passed a single car in at least twenty minutes, navigating the forgotten roads until the emptiness around gives way to something very different.
Something alive.
In the distance, an orange glow flickers against the night sky. The deep beat of music resonates across the sand, hitting us in waves. Vibrations pulsate through the floor of my car, all the way into my bones.
I fucking love this moment when I emerge from complete stillness into the vivacity of our meeting spot on the long-abandoned airfield. I love the reckless, adrenaline-starved part of me rousing from sleep, and I love the excitement streaming through the air to bubble in my chest. It’s addictive. Exhilarating.
I turn onto the final stretch of the road, watching the scene ahead unfold further. An asylum of light and sound. A wild mix of engines roaring, music blaring, and bodies dancing. Car headlights, neons, and strobing, colorful lights cut the darkness, illuminating a sea of cars as diverse as the crowd around them.
From all-out American muscle to Japanese imports. From high-end exotics to souped-up pickup trucks.
Every petrolhead’s heaven on earth.
People are everywhere. Leaning against cars, beers in hand, their laughter ringing over the music. Some are dancing, bodies moving in rhythm with the bass, others talk, joke, and drink beer. A couple is making out against the hood of a shiny yellow Corvette, oblivious to the surrounding chaos.
I pull my car into a spot between a pair of heavily modified Nissan GT-Rs. The drivers—both regulars and both in leather jackets—nod at me in silent acknowledgment. Someone else sizes up my car with visible appreciation.
It’s nothing exotic. Nothing much at all if you take it at face value—Dodge Challenger—but I poured my blood and sweat into this car, making it one of a kind.
There isn’t a faster Dodge in California.
Turning off the engine, I glance at Addie. She stares at the spectacle outside, her breath coming in short bursts, cheeks pink, hands trembling softly. As if she can feel my stare, she meets my eyes, hers full of hesitant awe.
“Welcome to my world,” I say, a smirk playing on my lips. “Remember the rules?”
I wait for her to nod before I step out onto the tarmac. The desert heat hits me, dry, thick, warm like a second skin. It’s at its worst now with August just around the corner. I’ll never get used to the sticky, stifling, smothering feeling.
I help Addie out, my hand landing on her lower back as we navigate the crowd. The bass from hundreds of car speakers is so potent it shakes the ground beneath our feet. Whistles, shouts, and greetings come from all directions, as they do every weekend. I nod at a few familiar faces and shake hands before Curly’s booming voice steals my attention.
“Colt!” he yells, barreling toward us.
His long, curly hair bounces with each step. Cody’s was the same years ago while he grew his hair out. Maybe that’s why I took to Curly so fast.
He slaps me on the back, an ear-splitting grin on his face. “Ready for a race? Some punk wants a shot at your title.”
Of course he does.
Every weekend, I race a minimum of three newbies. They come from all over California, cocky and confident when they arrive, then utterly disappointed and a few grand poorer when they leave.
I don’t go against new guys for less than five thousand dollars. The regulars… well, that’s a different story. We race for fun. We race because we fucking love it. No cash involved between friends.
Addie tenses beside me like a drawn bowstring. A polar opposite reaction to the surge of adrenaline traveling across my nerve endings. I bet she thought we came here only to watch.
“How much?” I ask Curly.
“Ten grand. This kid’s got big dreams.”
“Big dreams and a small brain.”
An easygoing smile curls his lips as he acknowledges Addie. “And who’s this pretty lady?” he asks, extending his hand to her. “Not seen you here before.”
“That’s Audrey,” I introduce her. “She’s with me.” My voice involuntarily hardens at the last bit, and my hand tightens around her waist.
It’s a subtle shift, but Curly catches the possessive gesture without an issue. His eyes skim over her again, protective and brotherly now. We’ve been friends since my first race. No way in hell he’ll get in my way.
“Gotcha.” He grins. “No worries, I’ll watch her while you’re out there.” He turns to the crowd. “Axel! Get me a cold one!”
Axel leaps up, offering Addie a beer. His smile is a little too wide, eyes wandering her body in a way that has me itching for a fight.
For the next week, she’s my girlfriend. Fake girlfriend and not necessarily in this setting, but… technicalities.
“Get her a fresh one,” I tell the guy, spotting the open bottle in his hand. “Sealed.”
His smile fades, but with a nod, he quickly retreats, fetching another bottle.
“You good?” I use my index finger to tip Addie’s face toward me. Curly marches away to fetch the kid who wants to race. “You haven’t said a word since we arrived. That’s five minutes without a word. It’s concerning.”
She’s a little pale, but her eyes sparkle with a thrill that wasn’t there before. She feels it—the adrenaline, the excitement, the energy emanating from every person around.
“I’m processing.” She leans into me like she feels safer when I’m close.
“You’ll get used to the noise.”
Curly returns with a kid who can’t be older than twenty. He’s sporting a cocky smirk, far too confident for someone about to lose ten grand.
Addie’s almost glued to my side as Curly launches into the rules, his voice clear and firm over the thumping bass. The kid—Jace—grins away as Curly lays down the basics.
We race a mile. Half a mile one way, U-turn, then back. No veering, no braking, no bullshit. This is the same stretch of road where Otis bumped into the back of my car three years ago.
Five weeks in a hospital bed. Two major surgeries: one on my liver, the other on my heart. Seven fractured ribs, two broken bones in my left leg, and one in my right arm. Concussion, cuts, bruises, a collapsed lung…
I should’ve died that night.
My doctor said it’s a miracle I didn’t…
And I still came back to race again. I’m not the smartest bulb in the box, I admit.
Then again, shit happens. I could cross the street and get hit by a car or fall down the stairs and break my neck.
When it’s time to go, it’s time to go.
At least that’s how I see life and death since the accident. I won’t let that one night affect the rest of my days.
“Tip that back,” I tell Addie, tapping her beer. “I need to borrow your pretty head.” Before she has time to respond, I turn to the crowd and shout, “Helmet!”
A black and white one is passed from hand to hand until it lands in mine.
“What’s this for?” Addie asks, her voice small.
“You’re riding shotgun with me.”
Her eyes pop immediately. She opens her mouth to protest, but I cut her off, slipping the helmet on and adjusting the strap under her chin. I check it once, twice, three times.
Excessive, but I have a strong sense of responsibility toward her.
“Look at me,” I say, opening the tinted visor. “You good?”
She swallows, then nods. “Yes.”
“Good. You’re safe with me, I promise.”
I guide her back to the Challenger, helping her into the passenger seat. The buckle clunks into place, and I tug hard, checking it’s secure. No chances. No sloppiness.
“Ready?”
Releasing all the air from her lungs in one long puff, she gives me a small nod. “I think so.”
“Good. Try not to scream.”
My heart thunders as I back out of the space then pull up to the start line. An electric hum vibrates through me, a burst of pure adrenaline that the promise of a race brings. To my right, the kid revs his engine, the car purring beneath him. I don’t look his way. My attention’s focused on Addie.
She grips the edge of her seat, gouging her nails into the leather so hard her knuckles blanch. I reach over, covering her hand with mine, easing her tension a little.
“It’ll be over before you know it, and you’ll want to go again as soon as possible.”
She rolls her lips, staring straight ahead. “If you kill me, I’ll haunt you until you bloody die.”
“None of that, Addie. Lose the fear. You’re safe.”
“Easy for you to say, you cheeky bugger,” she mutters. “I’ve never done this before.”
“First time’s the best.”
She shoots me a dubious look. “If you’re a guy.”
I catch the double meaning just as a girl in a short skirt and sky-high stilettoes strides into the middle of the tarmac. The crowd around us quiets, turning down the volume in their cars, the music now an indistinct thrum.
Addie swallows a large gulp of air as if she’s set on holding her breath the whole ride.
Five seconds. I give her five seconds before she screams. We’re sitting on over a thousand brake horsepower. Less than three seconds from zero to sixty. The G force during acceleration is bound to give her a head rush.
The girl in the middle of the road points to me, then Jace, and raises both hands. There’s something about this moment that always gets me. The world outside falls away, and I’m left with the race ahead, my car, and the endorphins rushing in my veins.
My life is filled with stress, work, lonely nights, and this… the few seconds when I’m behind the wheel, car flying as fast as it’s capable, are the only moments I’m truly calm. My mind clear.
The girl drops her arms. “Go!”
I pound the gas, and the Challenger jumps forward, the G force threatening to push me through the seat. The engine’s thunder and the screech of burning rubber fill my ears. The car beside us is nothing but a blur as we pull ahead. Four, five, six, and already a hundred miles per hour on the clock. Addie squeals, feet jammed against phantom brake pedals on the floor.
It takes thirty-six seconds to cover a mile at a hundred miles an hour, but within seconds, the Challenger’s at one-fifty and the half-mile marker is right there.
Timing it perfectly, I throw the car sideways. We’re skidding. Tires scream against tarmac. I whip the wheel around, forcing the car into a perfect U-turn.
Another movement of the steering wheel, and the car jerks, straightening out. I hit the gas again, gaining speed, the kid leveling with me a second later.
Whatever he has under the hood must be one hell of an engine. It’s a tight race. Not something I’m used to.
I grit my teeth, slamming the gas all the way down. The Challenger roars, giving me everything it has. We inch ahead, crossing the line first, but Jace is less than a foot behind.
“How’s that for your first race?” I ask Addie as I slow down, turning around to park.
She doesn’t respond, absentmindedly staring forward.
“Addie?”
No reaction.
Worry stops the adrenaline whooshing in my veins and drowns out the background noise. Throwing the car to a stop that spews up a curtain of dust around us, I kill the engine and push the door open, sprinting around the front of the car, my heart pounding in sync with my steps.
Addie hasn’t moved a muscle, her head dipped forward, the helmet obscuring her face.
“Hey, you’re okay,” I say, yanking her door open. “It’s over. You’re fine.” I drop to my knees, fumbling with the clasp of her helmet. “Audrey? Talk to me.”
She sucks in a harsh breath, her trembling hands cuffing my wrists, fingers squeezing me gently. “Again,” she breathes.
“Jesus. Don’t fucking scare me like that,” I say, my hands dropping to her thighs. In a mechanical reflex, my thumb strokes her skin. “I thought you were in shock.”
“No, I… I wasn’t scared.” She lifts the helmet off, her hair tumbling out in wild waves. “I was just… holy shit! We were going so fast!” Her lips twist into a smile that makes my breath falter.
What the hell is she doing to me?
The crowd, the music, and the heat of the night crash back over me, but they’re distant, blurry around the edges because all I see, all I feel, is her.
The fire in her eyes, the joy in her voice… fuck.
This was a bad idea.
I’m only her fake boyfriend.
