NASCAR Imagines

Ryan Blaney

This is for adrianacenzano who suggested a lovely, detailed imagine... Thanks, love!

I zipped my firesuit up the rest of the way as we all began to get ready to go down to pit road. Team Penske, my team, have a close knit bond. Joey and Brad are best buds, and me and Ryan are rather close. We've been racing together for a while and while Roger had his eye on Ryan, my name was thrown in the air a few times and he took an interest in me as well.

Now with Ryan racing the 12 and me racing the 25, and the 22 and 2 already being in contention, Roger and the whole team were stoked to see how we all perform. I wouldn't be lying if I said I was stoked about it myself. "Adriana..." Ryan spoke up ad I looked over to him, raising a brow questioningly. I didn't get a chance to react as he tossed me my phone with a smirk.

"Thanks.... I think?" I chuckled, scared to open it. He smirked and shrugged as he ushered me out. 

"You're welcome. And don't check your Snapchat or Instagram. And if I see your wallpaper is changed I'll cry." He shrugged and I laughed with a wide smile.

"Thanks Ryan. I really.... really appreciate it." I rolled my eyes and stuffed my phone in my pocket. "So, our deal still on?" I asked and he nodded.

"Yeah. Just because you qualified in front of me doesn't mean I won't kick your ass on those restarts Adriana. Deals on. If I win or place better, I get to make you do one thing. If you do, you get to make me do one thing. I know you adore sushi, hot sauce, Chinese Food, broccoli, beer, and orange juice. That blended with chips will serve for a delicious meal and hilarious reaction."

"I literally loathe all of those. And I'm underaged." I shrugged with a sassy shake of my head. We stepped out of the hauler and he smirked triumphantly.

"Nobody has to know." He teased mischievously and I scoffed. 

"Oh well... good thing I'm going to place better. See ya in victory lane!" I called as I took off in a jog toward driver intros.

"That's right, and try not to sob over my trophy!"

~~~

Upon entering the car, I felt exhilarated. I adored being in the stock car and reaching normally unreachable speeds. Something about the rebellion of speeds and the people behind you... it was enlightening. Life changing. I love it, and love the thrill. I was a risk taker, and it was clear to anyone who knew me or watched races. 

And being on the track, starting and restarting because of crashes, pit stops, debris.... it was something I craved. And now, looking out of my helmet and the windshield, my hands on the steering wheel with my best friend on my tail pushing and drafting with me.. it was exactly where I wanted to be.

"Eleven in your rear, he's gonna bump ya." My spotter warned me as I came down into turn two and rode along the straightaway as Denny Hamlin gave me a rough bump. I grit my teeth as he continued to bump me. "What's he doin'?" My spotter yelled angrily. "The 12 said Hamlin was being rough on his bumper too... hold onto 'er."

"Easier said than done." I muttered as my car got suddenly loose.

"The whole field is coming up, you're 2nd, clear down bottom." He warned as Denny bumped once again. I muttered a curse under my breath as we turned into turn 3, Denny bumping and running. He came up on my inside, pulling into my side almost like he was trying to roughly side draft.

"What is that idiot--" I was cut off as he front tire drove me into the side of the wall. My momentum was broken and Kyle Busch behind me drove right up into me, turning my car into the inside lane. I looked to my side, eyes wide as I tried to drive down into the infield but it was no use as Brad Keselowski drove right into my door. I squeezed my eyes shut, shrieking as the door indented and squished me further into the cramped car.