street racing [j.wooyoung]

one

wooyoung

— Wouuuh!

With a hungry note, the engine roared after me. With my eyes fixed on the horizon, I slalomed between the cars of the highway which did not cease honking me under the tenderness of the night.

An unhealthy smile tore at my lips.

Jeong Yunho was far ahead. He was my greatest rival in street racing, but he was also my friend. We liked to ride together outside of competitions, we needed to feed our addiction.

— Bastard, I see you!" I exclaimed to myself as I stepped on the gas.

My back hit the back of my seat under the power of speed. I could hear the moaning of his car fading to the ground. My hand gripped the steering wheel as if my life depended on it. I reached his level, my window was open and my black hair was flying in all directions. 

His playful eyes met mine, the outcome of this friendly race depended only on the two cars blocking our way to the highway exit.

However, I was going to win, because I had been the most cunning.

I winked at him, as if to say "once again you've been gracefully screwed."

He understood in the split second that the flame coming out of my exhaust greeted him as I was passing an Audi A3 on the left. It was too late for him, in street racing time was our biggest enemy.

My car skidded at the entrance of the capital. I turned left and stopped on the deserted quayside. He arrived a few moments later before braking in a cloud of smoke.

— You're really deceitful !

A cocky smile pulled at my face.

— I'm just unbeatable," I said, slamming my car door.

— Tch. He took out a bottle of water. I hope I'll have a front row seat the day you get run over miserably.

— Hey! I frowned. I'm your friend, you owe me praise !

— You've got enough," he scoffed. You don't need me to tell you that you're a great driver.

— That's true.

— Though you do need me to make you understand that modesty exists.

I arched an eyebrow.

Surprisingly, he and I got along just fine, unlike some people. I myself had trouble forming relationships with some of the competitors. Most of them had such a thirst for money that it was impossible to say a word to them without them feeling attacked.

Admittedly, many of them had more than just a foot in street racing. I had ridden many times against gang members, thieves and even hitmen. You may wonder if I was afraid for my life, or how I was still alive.

Let's just assume that I had a lucky star and that over time, these opponents that I had so poorly humiliated had themselves started betting on me.

Besides, if they sucked, it wasn't my problem.

— So, are you ready to start competing again? asked the blond man while taking a sip of water.

— Yeah, I can't wait to beat you," I teased.

He gave me a shoulder tap before leaning against the trunk of my car.

— I just hope I'wont be too bored," I said.

He looked at me for a moment, searching for a mocking flange in my face.

But there was none.

— I don't mean this in a derogatory way, but sometimes it's frustrating to not feel the fun on the track anymore.

My saddened eyes stared at the horizon as my legs slapped against the white body of my car.

— You're the only one I have that adrenaline against at the wheel, the one that whispers the most vicious strategies to you, because she and I refuse to lose.

— The fear of losing, he said in a benevolent tone, but an apprehension that gives you good stress.

— Right, I whispered.

He straightened up and shoved his hands into his pockets.

— As usual there will be new guys at the race, maybe your next rival is there, he reassured me by shrugging his shoulders.

— Otherwise it isn't matter, I'll win some money, I retorted nonchalantly.

He laughed while redirecting himself towards his yellow Nissan R34 skyline.

— In that case you'll buy me a drink !

— In your dreams asparagus !

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