Page 52 of Palm South University: Season 3

We pull in slowly, right onto the massive track, and Brandon puts the car in park just before the white and black checkered painted block on the track. He steps out first, smiling at my dumbfounded expression as he rounds the car to open my door.

“I don’t understand,” I say as I take his hand and step out. “Why is no one else here?”

“Ah, Mr. Church!” a voice calls from our right. I turn to find an older man with dark hair, peppered with gray, jogging toward us. He’s dressed in khaki pants and a navy blue polo, his skin a deep shade of olive and smile bright under his mustache. “So thrilled to have you back. Always a pleasure.”

Brandon meets his extended hand with a firm shake. “Pleasure’s all mine, Rodalfo. This is Ashlei Daniels,” he adds, motioning to me. Rodalfo takes my hand and lifts it to his lips for a kiss. “She’ll be riding shotgun today.”

“Welcome, Ashlei,” he says, squeezing my hand once more before releasing it. “I would say you are a lucky lady to ride beside Mr. Church in such a beautiful car, but perhaps it is Mr. Church who is the lucky one.”

Rodalfo winks as a blush sweeps my cheeks, and I’m not sure if it’s that blush or Rodalfo’s comments responsible for the smile on Brandon’s face.

“Well, the track is cleared for the entire day, so she’s all yours for as long as you want her. I’ll have the boys run out helmets, if you’d like?”

“Please,” Brandon answers, and Rodalfo jogs off again, leaving us alone.

“I didn’t realize those tickets were so powerful,” I say, crossing my arms and waiting for an explanation.

Brandon just shrugs. “Let’s just say they know me here.”

“So, why pay ten thousand dollars for the tickets, then?” I press.

He smiles, bullet gray Ray Bans lifting on his cheeks with the expression. “I wasn’t bidding on the tickets.”

I falter, surprised by his boldness. It’s the first time he’s admitted that he wanted this date with me. After six weeks of silence, I don’t know how to even begin to respond.

But with his next comment, I don’t have to.

“It was for charity, remember?” He grins even wider, taking two helmets from the same young man who opened the gate for us and handing me the smaller one. “Hope you’re ready for a ride, Miss Daniels.”

I can’t help but smile back, shaking my head before pulling the helmet on. “Show me what you got,Brandon.”

He bellows out a laugh, leading me back to the car.

As we both strap in, I adjust my helmet tighter, nerves hitting me at the realization that we’re about to be speeding around the track. “Is it safe to drive your car? Don’t they have like… extra seatbelts and padding in the ones they race here?”

Brandon ignites the engine, raising a brow in my direction. “Don’t you trust me?”

“Should I?”

The words shoot out before I can stop them, and Brandon watches me, debating the answer. “I think that’s something you have to decide for yourself.”

And with that, he faces forward, revving the engine as the lights change colors in front of us. My breath hitches when they turn green and I don’t have time to exhale before I’m flattened against the seat.

For the first five seconds, I completely freak out.

Internally, that is, because I can’t manage a breath, let alone a scream as we race from zero to over one-hundred miles per hour in less time than it takes to spell my name. It’s almost painful as the laws of physics work against us, crushing my bones into the seat, my body seemingly left on the starting line instead of inside the car.

When we round the first corner of the track, we decelerate just long enough for me to catch my breath.

And then, I laugh.

Not a cute giggle or a soft chuckle, but a full-on, head-thrown-back, tears-in-my-eyes laugh. Adrenaline rushes through me at the speed of light, crashing with my nerves to ignite an uncontrollable sense of euphoria.

Brandon glances at me quickly before smiling, too, and punches the gas again. I wrap my hands around the chest strap of my seatbelt, trying to focus on the track as we fly down it. The bleachers on the sidelines blur together as we pass, almost like we’re traveling through time and space. It’s the most exhilarating experience I’ve ever had.

And I’ve done cocaine, so that’s saying something.

I can’t stop laughing, and I don’t — not until I lose track of how many laps we’ve done and Brandon slows us to a stop at the starting line again.