23 | pedal to the metal

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He starts walking toward me and I run toward him. The crowd parts for him and I jump into his arms, laughing as he spins me around. I'm aware of the stares on us but can't bring myself to care, focusing all my attention on Grayson's sweaty face.

I press my mouth on his, catching him by surprise. Even though I kissed him just before the race starts, it feels like I haven't felt his lips against mine in days. I feel drunk on happiness and keep my arms around his neck as he sets me down slowly. His hands stay on the small of by back, lower than I'm used to, but higher than I'd like them to be.

We break away, both breathing heavily. "So what did you say about winners?" he asks cockily.

I pretend to be confused. "I have absolutely not idea what you're talking about. Did you hit your head on the steering wheel?"

Grayson responds to my teasing by lifting me up again, higher this time. His hands go lower, clasping my ass, catching me even more off guard. I let out a surprised squeal, although I'm more thrilled than scared. "Grayson!"

He puts me down but keeps his hands where they were. I'm not complaining. "What? Just trying to jog your memory," he says innocently.

I glare at him jokingly and he kisses my nose. He looks devilishly handsome right now, his hair slightly damp but perfectly messy. There's a victorious gleam in his bright grey eyes, exciting me from the inside out.

"So you ready for our victory lap?" He asks.

If this were any other night with any other boy, I might've made the easy, safe decision and politely declined the offer to speed down a dirt road to my death. But I'm in Grayson's arms and his carefree face is staring down at me with a hopeful look that makes my heart flutter.

So I reply, "Only if I get to drive."

Grayson doesn't miss a beat, doesn't question whether or not I'm skilled enough to handle his winning car. "That's my girl."

Grayson removes his arms and grabs my hand, leading me toward the track. My boots crunch on the mix of gravel and clay, and I wonder what the hell I'm getting myself into. Everyone watching us seems to be thinking the same thing. Grayson holds the driver's side door open for me, watching me slide in and buckle up before he walks around and slides into the passenger seat.

I move the seat way forward, adjusting to my significantly shorter legs. I handle the rear-view and side mirrors quickly, suddenly very nervous about this. For a second, I forget how the hell to even drive. Grayson's hand finds the bare skin of my thigh and it does a bit to calm me down.

"Ready, babe?" Grayson asks. I can hear the confidence in his voice and feel better knowing at least one of us has faith in me. I look at him for a second, trying to believe the trusting look in his eyes.

I put the car in drive and press my foot lightly against the gas, already prompting the car to go faster than I'd anticipated. Slowly, I fumble with the wheel and turn the car around, aiming us toward the endless stretch of road.

"Nice and easy, Riv. You got this," Grayson says beside me. Nice and easy, got it. Grayson does this all the time; I got this.

I take a deep breath, trying to draw calmness from Grayson's presence beside me. I can do this. Grayson believes in me. Fuck, I believe in myself. We're not going to crash and die, I try to convince myself.

Without thinking anymore, I slam my foot against the pedal and jolt us forward. My head almost snaps backward from the acceleration and I'm convinced I'm going to kill us both. I'm driving faster than Grayson did when we were fleeing from the cops and it's the scariest fucking thing I've ever experienced.

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