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“Oh.” I look at her to find her cheeks my favorite shade of bubblegum pink. Another thing I can’t get over.
My eyes rake over her. In the past few months she’s gained a little more of a figure. Fuller breasts, wider hips, more mature face. She still has a dancer’s body though. Lean arms and legs, except you can see the muscle definition regardless. Her tiny little waist is my favorite though, and I can see her abs peeking through every time she wears a crop top. Which is often. I have to force myself not to look at her body, to keep myself in check. It’s getting harder to do by the day.
She nervously brushes some hair out of her face, and I love that I affect her. I can tell. I try not to look at her as her crop top rides up, revealing a pink bra. So I look out the window instead and adjust myself in my seat. God, why is this my life? Why do I have to like someone I can’t have? Like is a tame description of what we have. I think—no, I know—I’m falling for her.
“How fast are we going to go?” Camilla asks nervously.
“Fast, Milla.”
“I might throw up,” she replies, and I grimace. “I’m not a fan of…speed.”
“Please don’t throw up in this beauty.”
She laughs at that, a beautiful melody. “You’re right that it’s beautiful. Maybe I’ll just close my eyes.”
“Don’t be a little girl.”
“Don’t call me that.”
“Fine,kid.”
She scoffs. “You’reoneyear older than me.”
How cute! She really thinks it matters to me. I’m just messing with her as I always do. Because I enjoy it. Because it brings us joy. Even though she acts annoyed, I know she secretly loves it, just as she does me. “Which makes you a baby.”
Camilla rolls her eyes and pulls her seatbelt on tighter, fidgeting with her fingers. She looks genuinely nervous, and now I’m starting to doubt bringing her here. But it’s too late, seeing as the girl comes and stands in front of our vehicles with the flag. Her stance widens, and she waves it.
Within seconds my car takes off at a fast speed, and I press down on the accelerator further to go faster. The other guy and I are neck to neck, and I slam the accelerator even more. I want to win as I always do, but having Camilla here gives me more of an incentive. Impressing her seems to be important suddenly.
“Oh, God, Nik,” she whispers. “You’re goingfast.”
“I told you, princess, but you’re not a baby, remember?”
“Right.” She squeals when I take a turn impossibly sharp.
“Question two hundred,” I announce, if only to distract her. I can talk and drive, it’s fine with me. I’ve done this quite a lot, and all I feel is a rush that’s unmatched. “What’s your favorite book?”
“It’s by Sylvia—Oh, God!”
“Close your eyes, Camilla.”
I can’t tell if she has because if I take my eyes off the road for a second we might just die. This is the fastest I’ve ever gone, the guy racing me is relentless. “Sylvia Plath is my favorite poet. She wrote a novel called The Bell Jar—that’s my favorite.”
“I knew you could do it,” I whisper, crossing the finish line in first place. “Now open your eyes.”
“You almost killed us!” She yells, but there’s a smile on her face as I slow down.
“Did you like it?”
“No.” Liar. “Maybe.”
“I knew you would.” I smirk. “But next time keep your eyes open. It makes it even better.”
“It was making me dizzy.”
“Even better.”
“Jerk.”
