We’re perfectly crazy over our passion We be screaming go
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"Wait, what?" He sputtered, looking caught off guard. "If I win?"
I grinned, allowing a part of myself to rejoice despite my initial resistance to the idea. Corvettes were illegal, alright then. I still wanted to ride in one, even if I wasn't the one driving.
"Yup." I almost felt like an evil genius, because he definitely had not expected me to come up with something like that, judging by the look on his face. "You started this."
He still looked pretty horrified by my suggestion, which led me to believe that he was—one, a man of his word, and two, the usual winner of the race. "Why would you bet on something like that?"
"What was I supposed to say, then?" I raised my eyebrows, amused. "How many cars you have?"
"But..." A frustrated look crossed his face, but he shook his head. "Fine. Fine."
I laughed. "Something tells me you're going to win."
Eyes narrowed, he stepped forward, threatening with his every movement. "Something tells me I'm not making any more bets with you."
"You'll learn." I smiled. "Come on, then, red, show me some of that temper behind the wheel." I gestured to the car. "The race is going to start—I can see the flagger."
A muscle jumped in his clenched jaw, and he looked dangerously like he was going to drop kick me in the face. But then he sighed, and looked away. "Get away." His fingers reached into the pocket of his jeans to pull out two—bobby pins? "You can watch from over there." He jerked his chin in the direction.
I turned to look at the big screens, which were currently blank. "They have some sophisticated techie shit. all for a street race?"
"It might be just a street race for you," When I looked at him, his fingers were insterting the gold pins into one side of his hair—I guess he needed to keep the fabulous hair away from his face. "But it's so much more for so many."
"Money?" I smiled dryly. "Power, fame, what else? Drugs?"
"Sex." He confirmed, sounding a bit bored as he rolled his eyes. "A story."
My eyes studied his face carefully, lips pursed slightly in concentration, the perfect bone structure of his face. Gosh, he really was beautiful. "What's it to you?"
His eyes glanced sharply to mine, then flickered away. "Forget it." He spoke gruffly, and then pulled open the car's door and slipped inside.
Stepping back, I let my eyes avert to the car's gleaming exterior again, marvelling at the bright black against red. And I had thought arctic white was good—however rude he may be, Archie sure had a good taste in cars and colors.
