Race Track of Love

RTOL 6

Chapter 6

A series of knocks followed after the buzz, a slight discontentment of the buzzer. I'm not deaf!

"What?" I scowled as I stepped closer to the door. I was merely irritated with my cut on my pointer finger and now, along with the rush to open the door.

"Oh! Someone's in a bad mood," a familiar male voice chuckled but I wasn't sure if who he really was.

"You have really a manly voice but I hate to say this but I don't recognize you."

My eyes widened in surprise when the door utterly open.

"That offends me too much, it's the boy next door, your Mr. Nice Guy." Marcus in his dark blue chino shorts and white polo shirt.

"Hey," I greeted. We exchanged stares. We stayed like that for half a minute or so. "When did you became mine?" I joked.

"What happened? I heard you scream," he asked, scrutinizing me from head to toe with his hands. It started with tipping my chin with his forefinger and turning my head side to side. "Does it hurt?" he asked when he saw my finger wrapped with tissue, I was holding it to put pressure.

I nodded, slowly biting my lower lip to resist the stingy pain. Don' get me wrong, I'm not seducing him.

"Would you mind if I stand my Mr. Nice Guy title?" He playfully smirked.

"Sure," I smiled back and all the while we were just standing there.

His head craning left and right, he asked, "So, aren't you going to allow me to enter to your little race track?"

His hands dug his pockets and he shrugged.

"Oh! I'm so sorry. It's just that," I lead him the way.

The first thing that met his sight was my entertainment center : a gigantic flat-screen TV, Wii U Console that I used to play 'Just Dance' with Jodie, dvd player with home theatre speakers, and a pile of dvd. Well, I do have my own TV in the room but when I and Jodie are both at home, we're using the TV in the living room. Across from it was a black leather couch with a complement coffee table in front of it. Two red plush chairs are placed at either end of the coffee table, both with yellow pillow on it. My living room looks like a little race track.

I lead him to the couch to have a seat. "I wonder if you have still time for all of this."

"Yes, my past time," I smiled.

"Allow me," he said, slowly taking my hand. "Do you have a first aid kit here?"

"Actually, I was supposed to get it when you knocked," I glanced at him while he's scrutinizing my hand.

"It's just a small wound," he mumbled, looking directly into my eyes.

"Can I get the kit already?" I asked out of the blue, slowly freeing from his grasp.

I headed back to the kitchen to search for the first aid kit, I saw it on the wall cabinet at the top of the sink. "There you are!"

At the moment I head back to the living room, he was standing at the front of shelves of the cups and trophies I won for the past years. Some were cups and trophies before I became a full-time driver of NASCAR. Only a few of them was displayed on that shelf, the International GT Open, Porsche Supercup, Rolex Sports Car Series and the John Cooper Mini Challenge. And the rest of the trophies stood were from my NASCAR Sprint Cup Series days.

"My bad?" he said, slipping a hands on a shelf. "I'm just amazed to a girl like you doing men things." He wore that boyish smile he's usually wear when he's on track.