Page 37 of My Fault

I looked at the photo of him and Beth kissing.

His face still drew me in, but I knew that with that message, our relationship was over. I would never see him again, and for the first time, I was happy there was a border between us. As for Beth, I just wrote her a two-word message that I sent along with the photo of her and Dan kissing:

We’re done.

I exhaled all the air I’d been holding in. That was it. With that, nine months of romance and seven years of friendship were finished. I felt my eyes grow damp, but I didn’t spill a single tear. To hell with them. They didn’t deserve it.

I put my phone in my back pocket and tried to find Nick. Last I saw him, he was leaning against his black Ferrari and drinking a beer. I turned around and walked straight over to Jenna.

We danced, laughed, entertained ourselves. My new friend was crazy. Now and then she’d run off to make out with her boyfriend, and I’d remember what had happened and feel depressed. I tried to distract myself watching the races; I loved the sport, and it brought back some of my favorite memories from back when going to the races was an everyday thing for me. I noted the techniques of all the different drivers. Nick’s friend was pretty good, but Nick was better. His first race impressed me.

As the night went on, I found myself analyzing the different strategies and asking myself what was missing, how to increase our side’s advantage. The problem was the second curve. If you hit it too slow, you fell behind; if you took it too fast, you risked spinning out.

I was dying to get on the track. I felt like I could do it better. I wanted to feel the wind in my face, the adrenaline in my body that speed always brought with it, feel that control over the car, knowing I was the one telling it where to go.

These thoughts were swirling in my head when I realized the last race was about to begin. This guy Ronnie was racing against Nicholas. If I had the chance, I thought, I could smoke him with my eyes closed.

Everyone had gotten in their cars and driven over to the finish line. Jenna, Lion, and I had to stay behind, but they left for a second to get her car. Nicholas had vanished, too, taking off toward his SUV with that dark-haired bimbo. So there I was, alone, with a rocket ship just waiting for someone to get behind the wheel.

I saw Ronnie walk over to his tuner and glance over at me. He was a scary dude. He was ripped like a gladiator and had hundreds of tattoos all over his arms and back.

“Yo, bae,” he said, leaning his forearms on the hood. “Who are you?”

I was intimidated, but I thought it was smart to answer him.

“Noah,” I said.

“I’ve been watching you,” he admitted. “I know how to tell a chick who knows this game from one who’s just standing around. And you know this game,” he said, slapping the hood.

“I might have raced a time or two,” I said, wondering where everyone else was. I didn’t like the way that dude was looking at me; he gave me the creeps.

“I can imagine,” he replied. “Why don’t you race me then?”

Was he really proposing what I thought he was proposing?

“You’re supposed to race Nicholas,” I said doubtfully.

“Yeah, but Nicholas ain’t here, is he?”

I felt the adrenaline coursing through my veins. Racing again. That was what I wanted. What I needed. And it was true—Nicholas wasn’t there to tell me no.

“I don’t think it’s a good idea,” I said, biting my lip but seeing the keys of the Ferrari in the ignition.

Ronnie clicked his tongue and walked over slowly.

It’s actually a great idea, I thought. But I kept that to myself.

“Nick already got behind the wheel tonight. And it’s about time he lets a woman try, no?”

Guys like Nick were the reason nobody took girls like me seriously.

“Or are you scared?” Ronnie added. He knew how to hit me where it hurt.

That infuriated me, and I was sure he could see my answer on my face before I opened my mouth.

“You’re on,” I said with a smirk. He grinned back at me.

“Good job, Precious. See you at the starting line.”