✔️The Greaser and the Skirtchaser [18+]

7. Their First Drag Race

"I, um," Vance balked even though he definitely wanted to drive. "Isn't this your dad's car?"

"He hasn't driven it since he bought it. You can drive it, right?"

"Yeah. Uh, yeah. I could drive it." Faintly, Vance could hear Father John saying something in the back of his mind. "Are you sure?"

"Certain. Hop in."

They swapped places, and Vance got the ignition key. The car flared up, and the rumble somehow felt better in the driver's seat than the passenger's. Vance reversed out of the diner and pushed the Buick onto the road. The handling was so much better than his zio Fransico's old truck.

Blake glanced over. "Hey, gun it to sixty."

"But the speed limit is fifty?"

"There's no one here, so I can go as fast as I want. Go ahead; don't you wanna see how fast it can climb to sixty?"

"What if—what if I run over an animal or something?"

"There's enough traffic out here that the animals know to steer clear. I haven't even seen a rabbit, much less run anything over. Come on. You're riding this hotrod, and you won't take the chance to let loose?" Blake leaned in, and his voice was doing the thing again. "Come on, no one's watching."

Vaguely pervy flirting aside, Vance did want to hear the engine roaring in his palms. And Blake was right; no one was watching. Vance pressed the accelerator, and the speed jumped fast enough that he had to shift up the gears.

"Yeah, that's it." Vance could hear the grin in his low voice.

Vance lifted the speed from thirty to forty to sixty in no time flat. He'd never driven anything that could pick up speed like that. He held it there, trying and failing not to smile as he savored the Buick purring in his hands and the wind whipping past them.

"You handle it so well." Blake sounded so pleased, and his voice was all low and quiet, but it was still branding itself into Vance's eardrum. "So good."

He blushed and felt like he should tell Blake to knock it off or something, but he hesitated and didn't end up saying anything.

"You can go faster if you want. Enjoy yourself."

His stomach jittered—more than it was already—and Vance didn't dare glance at Blake. He looked down at the speedometer. He'd never gone over thirty, yet he was doubling it right now. "Are you sure?"

"Yeah. You can take it; don't be scared, baby."

A different type of heat sunk into his gut at the stupid pet name, but he was so focused on not showing a reaction to it that he again missed his chance to tell Blake to shut his trap. Vance just pressed the accelerator toward seventy instead of thinking about why his skin felt so hot.

"Keep going, baby. Just like that."

The car was accelerating well with no signs of stress or problems. It was taking longer to get faster than sixty, but that was about expected for this type of car. As the speedometer ticked up, it almost felt like a barometer, too, measuring the pressure in the car as Vance flustered with the high speed and low voice. "B-Blake."

Somehow Blake's smoky murmurs were louder in Vance's ears than the roaring engine and the wind ripping past them. "That's perfect. You're doing so well for your first time."

"Sh-shut up." Vance's pulse raced, struggling to take the adrenaline of his speed and the heat curling in his stomach. It kinda overwhelmed him, and his face flushed too hot, and a flash of fear tempered all the daring he had just a second ago. He took his foot off the accelerator.