Page 44 of Hate It with You

“Where are you—” Beth’s voice is cut off by my car door shutting. Her door flies open, and she mumbles something I can’t make out. By the looks of her arms and legs flopping around, I’d say she’s struggling to get her harness off.

A laugh bursts out of me as I shut the trunk, helmets in hand. Making my way to her side of the car, I kneel to her eye level and hand her the helmet I purchased a few days ago.

She stares at it for a second before looking back at me. “You didn’t.”

I smile. “I did.” The helmet is black, covered in red roses, the same type she has plastered on her bookstore logo.

“Need help putting it on?” I ask as she tentatively takes the helmet from me.

“No, I got it. But I’m not sure I’m down for whatever it is you have planned here. I’ve seen the way your brother drives.” She side-eyes me, recalling the car wreck my brother Theo unfortunately got into with Sienna in the passenger seat last year.

Without thinking, I place my hand on her bare thigh, her eyes locking in on our connection. I try not to notice the way her breathing becomes more erratic as I say my words, “I’m a much better driver than my brother, and I come here all the time. If you really don’t want to do this, I’ll turn the car around, and we can go home…” I pause, waiting for her to tell me to take her back. When she doesn’t, I continue, “But I thought I could show you how fun my ‘shitty sounding car’ can be.”

Without saying a word, and with a passionate glare my way, she slips the helmet on over her head. Still loose, it shakes slightly when she nods her agreement to my plan. Chuckling, I reach up to help tighten the straps. Her voice comes out muffled by her squished cheeks when she says, “It does sound shitty.”

Once I confirm her helmet is secured properly, I lightly pat her thigh. “Whatever you say, baby.”

After tightening her harness once more, I shut her door and head back to the driver's side. Settling myself once again into the driver's seat, I buckle myself in tightly.

The shitty sound Beth is referring to is the Whipple supercharger on the engine. What she has yet to discover is how fast this thing can go.

Turning off the music, I keep the car in neutral, tap my foot on the gas pedal, and rev the engine a couple of times as I take three deep breaths. It's a ritual I do every time I come here. A habit I picked up from my dad that I have no intention of breaking.

“Ready?” I look at Beth, taking in her bright blue eyes and squished cheeks as she nods, grabbing onto the edge of the seat next to her thighs. I take one last peek at the tattoo she has there before focusing on the track in front of me.

Hitting the clutch, I throw the car into first gear as I lay weight to the gas pedal. My eyes don’t come off the track as I shift into second gear, hitting sixty miles per hour in under five seconds. The 2004 Mustang Terminator Cobra roars to life beneath my feet as we take off down the track.

I finish the first lap at half the speed I normally would, letting Beth get used to the twists and turns of the track. My hand switches between the wheel and the shifter with each turn I take as muscle memory takes over.

When we round the last corner, I downshift the car, bringing it to a slow stop at our original starting point.

I let out a deep breath, a smile on my face as I look at Beth, waiting for her reaction. “So what’d you think? Not half bad, right?” I yell through my helmet to ensure she can hear me.

She looks back at me, a newfound glint in her eye as she says, “For such a loud car, it moves kinda slow if you ask me.” A hint of a smile shows in her eyes as she stares at me.

Grabbing the underside of her helmet, I tug her closer to me. “Oh baby, that was only a taste. Ready for more?”

She nods, more excitedly than she did before, despite her obvious best efforts to hide it. Straightening out, I hit the clutch and gas pedal again, throwing the car in first gear as I did before.

This time, I don’t stop in second gear. I shift to third, then to fourth, topping one hundred and ten miles per hour on the beginning stretch of the track. I’m sure to keep my eyes on the road in front of me, but I’m tempted to look at Beth when her sweet laughter fills the car over the roar of the engine.

Her laugh is contagious as it caresses my ears, my cheeks pressing against the inside of my helmet as I smile. My hands work to shift back down to second to take the first turn of the track. We continue down the path, Beth’s laughter spreading warmth through my chest each lap we take.

If it were up to me, we’d continue the track until the sun sets, but I’m forced to come to a slow stop when my stomach rumbles, empty and desperate for the food I’ve packed in the trunk.

The car’s vibrations stop when I turn off the ignition. Pulling off my helmet, I look over at Beth. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you actually enjoyed yourself.”

She fights with the strap under her chin for a moment before removing her helmet, the same as me. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” She looks away, but I catch the hint of a smile tugging at the corners of her lips.

Reaching over, I place my hand on the buckle sitting across her waist, her breath stopping for a moment when I do. Unlatching the belt with minimal effort, I undo my own as I ask, “You hungry?” When she nods, I make my way out of the car, heading toward the trunk to grab the cooler I prepped this morning and a picnic blanket.

“You came prepared.” Beth stands next to the Mustang, arms crossed and an eyebrow raised, as though she’s trying to figure out what my ulterior motive is.

“Always.” I wink at her before heading toward a grassy area to the side of the track. Laying out the blanket, I sit down, patting the seat next to me as Beth approaches. The sun warms my back, the black T-shirt soaking up the rays as I watch Beth take the seat next to me. Her skirt rides up her thighs when she does, revealing more of the floral vines that round her hip.

The sight makes me want to take another bite, desperate to taste her again.

I turn my attention back to the cooler, setting out our food for an early lunch as I try my best to gain control of my hardening cock. I hand Beth the chicken salads I’ve prepared along with the small bowl of fruit and bottles of water. She pauses, looking down at the food.