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His hands weave into my hair. “Please, Rachel. I’m trying here. ”
“Echo will get Rachel out,” says Noah. “Rachel, I’ll stay by his side. ”
I go to protest, but the grumble of Zach’s engine interrupts. Isaiah places an arm around my waist to tuck me close. Zach yells over his engine, “What’s the bet?”
“Five hundred,” answers Isaiah. “Abby’s holding. ”
“And I think I’ll watch Abby. ” In his half strut, Eric slinks over with a few guys from the night I street raced with him.
“Pole dancers are down the street,” says Abby in a bored voice. “And if I let you watch, I’d cost more. ”
Without waiting for his retort, Abby walks over and shows Zach our five hundred. He motions to Eric, and Eric produces a wad of cash that he holds between the slits of his fingers.
“I’ll take that,” she says.
“You’re not neutral,” Eric replies.
“And you’re a jackass. Public place, Eric, and think about whose territory you’re standing in. I believe at the moment I outrank you. ”
Eric bends his elbow to hand her the cash. She collects and counts. Once she nods to Isaiah, he crushes his lips to mine. It’s a fast kiss, yet intense. Hands warm on my face, on my back. His lips moving rapidly, with such desire that when I go to catch my breath he pulls away. “I love you. ”
Isaiah opens the door to my Mustang, finds his helmet, flips my hair behind my ear and straps the helmet on my head. Behind me, Noah edges the fire-retardant jacket onto my arms.
Isaiah speaks at such a fast pace I can barely keep up. “If the car makes any funny sounds, does anything strange, you brake, do you understand me? Don’t try to win the race. Don’t floor the gas. That’s when the wrecks happen. Listen to your instincts. Anything weird, you hit the brake. ”
I’ve watched Isaiah put the jacket and helmet on dozens of times, and each time my heart ached with the thought of what would happen if the car wrecked. My eyes widen as I see the sweat breaking out on his forehead. “The fire extinguisher is under the passenger seat. If the car crashes, you get out. If you can’t, you grab the extinguisher, and I swear I’ll be there. ”
“There isn’t a nitrous system in the car,” I remind him blankly.
His fingers pause on the zipper. “Even without it, this is dangerous. ” A pause. “It’s okay to back out. I swear to God I’ll protect you. ”
“I’m doing this. ”
“Tell her about the torque,” says Noah as Isaiah zips up my jacket.
“I know what torque is,” I whisper.
“Not this, angel. ” Isaiah secures the straps to the jacket and double-checks the helmet. “You’ve played with the car in parking lots, learning how to go for the light, but I’ve put enough torque and horsepower in your pony that she’s going to kick up on you. Nothing like those bad boys with the million-dollar engines, but she’ll ride up. It’s a good thing. She’ll come back down. Don’t fight her, Rachel. Just let her run. ”
In the driver’s seat, I numbly reach for the seat belt until Isaiah leans in. His hands quickly maneuver around the five-point harness he installed for racing. “Can you see?”
One hand grips the steering wheel, the other the stick shift. The harness has me locked tight to the chair. “Yeah. ” And then I start to think. “I’m not sure I’ll be able to see the lines. ”
Isaiah squeezes my hand. “I’ll walk you through it. ”
He closes the door and I start my pony. I rev the engine a couple of times because I need the calmness associated with her singing. Taking a deep breath, I shift into First and follow Isaiah to the starting line.
My entire life I tried to be all girl with bows and painted nails, but feeling my baby purr beneath me, knowing that I’m about to push her—I feel very alive.
Curling his fingers as a sign to continue or using his palm as a stop, Isaiah guides me around the water to avoid a burnout and slowly edges me to the staging area. I hit the first light and Isaiah throws his hand to a stop. My heart pounds in my chest. I’m going to drag race.
The smell of rubber hangs in the air as Zach completes his burnout. The roar of his engine grows as his car joins mine. Isaiah nods at me as he walks away. This is it. This is me on my own. Zach creeps forward, his second staging light hit. Once I hit the second line, I’ll have seconds before the race starts.
I inhale deeply and tap on the gas. My second light flashes on. In rapid succession, the yellow lights count down. . . three. . . two. . . one. . .
My foot falls off the clutch as the other rams on the gas, a perfect coordination of shifting and moving. The engine roars as my body presses into the seat. Adrenaline shoots through my veins as the front wheels pop up and slam back onto the dragway. The same gravitational forces that pulled me back push me forward.
Becoming one with the car, I shift with her sounds, letting her rip, letting her run. And in seconds, I pass the finish line, laughing, soaring like a bird in flight.
