"Not your good girl Mr.Badboy" (UNDERCONSTRUCTION)

Chapter 3

A/N :new chapterr !! so liking my book so far? I hope you are liking it . so keep reading because the upcoming chapters will be more than interesting .
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I slide off my bed, deciding to get ready for the race.

I wear my skinny jeans with a high-low sleeveless burgundy tank top, pairing it with my ankle boots and loose bangles. I brush on my casual smokey eye look then proceed to apply my blood red lipstick. I must admit, I look pretty perfect in this outfit.

This is how I am, and I love it.

I skip downstairs and quickly notice that no one is home. Eh, who cares? I shrug it off and walk outside. Thank God they aren't here. I'm in no mood to listen to the shit they have to say. But when am I?

I enter the garage, hop in my car, and speed off to the racing track .

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"Hey Ciara! Wooaah, Dude. That car—that car is just...Wow! I'm jelly now!" Cameroon greets me as soon as I reach the racing track with my Audi R8 V10 plus Coupe. I love this car more than the others for more reasons than because it's fast and totally badass. To me, it's not just a car—it's a memory of my brother and sister. They gifted it to me on my 17th birthday because they knew how much I love cars.

Mari and Blake...

I miss them a lot.

They both disappeared and left me behind with the jerk, AKA Dad, after Mom died.

I don't hate them for it, but I do wish they would've thought about me once and didn't just abandon me.

I didn't even get to see them for the last time before they decided to leave me alone. They just up and went out of the blue. What hurts most is that we were closer than just siblings—we were best friends. We would share everything we had and would always console each other through our hard times. I wonder how they could even think about leaving me, especially after Mom's death. How could they discard me like that?

Wasn't I their other half or something?

I snap out of my thoughts as Cameroon asks with a concerned look on his face, "Ciara, you there?" "Huh? Oh, yeah," I reply, snapping out of my dismal thoughts. "So where's my opponent?" Cameroon grins and rubs his hands together in suspense. "Well, your opponent is Parker Crawford, one of the best racers here—but I'm sure not as good as you." I smirk as he nudges me with his elbow. "Lead the way," I reply, following him as he twists and walks towards a guy standing beside his car (a pristine Corvette) chatting away with what I think is his group of cronies. "Hey,Brian! Dude, meet your opponent." His head turns and our eyes meet instantly as he looks in our direction.

I groan once I see his face. This can't be happening.

Why, out of all the people here, does he have to be my opponent, huh?!

He strides over to me, confidence—well, more like cockiness—in his every move.

I shove my hand onto my waist and stare at him, raising an eyebrow, clearly annoyed by his presence along with his obnoxiously massive ego.

"Well, if it isn't the one and only bitch," he sneers at me. His arrogant tone makes me roll my eyes. "And if it isn't the one and only asshole. What are the chances?" I retort. He snorts and looks at Cameroon. "What the hell, Dude? I told you I want to race a professional, competitive racer not some little cry baby girl." I fume with anger at his conceited belittlement.