Unveiled Passion

We haven't even talked since Spain

Kiara

Today was the race day, outside was Richard in a Mercedes cls 63 amg.
"How much money does Blake have." I muttered under my breath.

*****

As I arrived at the party, the thumping bass of the music greeted me, mingling with the excited chatter of the crowd. The air was electric with anticipation, everyone buzzing with the promise of the upcoming street race. But amidst the pulsating energy, there was one person I was dreading to encounter – Blake.

She stood there, leaning against his car with an easy confidence, her dark curly hair tousled in the evening breeze. My heart skipped a beat as our eyes met, a jolt of mixed emotions coursing through me – anger, hurt, and a lingering longing that I tried to suppress.

I had been avoiding her ever since that fateful trip to Spain, ever since she had told me to forget about our kiss. But fate had a cruel sense of humor, for Blake was not just any partygoer; she was my racing partner, and we were destined to sit next to each other during my turn to race.

As I approached her, her gaze softened, a hint of regret flickering in her eyes. "Hey, Kiara," she said, her voice low and husky.

"Hey," I replied, trying to keep my tone neutral despite the tumultuous emotions swirling inside me.

We exchanged terse pleasantries, the tension between us palpable as we avoided each other's gaze. And then, the moment of truth arrived – it was my turn to race.

I slid into the driver's seat, trying to focus on the task at hand, but Blake's presence beside me was a constant distraction. The engine roared to life, and as the race began, I felt a surge of adrenaline coursing through my veins.

With every twist and turn of the road, I pushed the car to its limits, my concentration unwavering despite the chaos raging within me. And beside me, Blake remained silent, her eyes fixed on the road ahead, a silent pillar of support even amidst the turmoil of our unspoken feelings.

As the race drew to a close, the cheers of the crowd washed over us, mingling with the pounding of my heart. And as I emerged victorious, a bittersweet sense of triumph filled me – for while I had conquered the race, the battle within my heart raged on, unresolved and unspoken.

*****

The roar of engines echoed in my ears as I made my way to the bar that was next to the pool , it was Blake's turn to race the other opponent.My heart pounding with the thrill of the street race that we obviously won,I needed a drink to calm my nerves, to wash away the rush of adrenaline that still coursed through my veins.

But just as I reached for a stool, a voice cut through the chatter of the bar, sending a shiver down my spine. "Well, well, if it isn't Kiara," Jessica sneered, her presence looming over me like a dark cloud.

I forced a tight smile, trying to ignore the sinking feeling in my gut as I turned to face her. "Jessica," I greeted, my tone strained with forced civility.

She wasted no time in getting to the point, her words dripping with venom. "I don't want you anywhere near Blake. Do you understand?"

I bristled at her audacity, the memory of Blake's distant demeanor since our return from Spain still fresh in my mind. "We haven't even talked since Spain," I retorted, frustration bubbling beneath the surface.

Before Jessica could speak again I felt someone cut her off." I think it's time for Kiara to leave." Blake who was standing behind me said.As I turned to whisper to her she had already grabbed my arm.

She opened the door and I got in. To be honest I wasn't going to fight cause I wanted to leave.

*****
Blake

"Why did you even come here?" she asked, her voice laced with irritation.

I shrugged, trying to play it cool. "Just felt like it, I guess. And Jessica is mad."

She rolled her eyes, pushing past me to head back to her dorm. But before she could take more than a few steps, I saw her stumble on a stair.

Without a second thought, I caught her, wrapping my arms around her waist to steady her. For a brief moment, our eyes met, and I saw something flicker in hers – surprise, maybe even gratitude.

"Thanks," she muttered, pulling away from me and continuing on her way.

I followed behind her in silence, the weight of her dampness clinging to my thoughts. When we finally reached her dorm, she turned to face me, her expression unreadable.

"We should talk," she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

I nodded, suddenly feeling unsure of myself. We stepped into her room, the air thick with tension. And then, she said it – the words I never thought I'd hear from her lips.

"Do you remember that kiss? In Spain?"

How could I forget? It had been burning in the back of my mind ever since, a reminder of something I couldn't have, shouldn't want.

"Yeah, I remember," I replied, trying to keep my voice steady.

She took a step closer, her eyes searching mine. "We can't pretend it didn't happen."

I knew she was right, but I couldn't bring myself to admit it. "It was a mistake,and I apologise." I said, my voice rough with emotion.
"I already told you I don't do relationships,remember."

But even as the words left my lips, I knew there were a lie. Because in that moment, with her standing so close, I wanted nothing more than to kiss her again.

And when She leaned in, closing the distance between us, I didn't stop her. This time. Our lips parted and we just looked at each other.

"Fuck forgetting." I said leaving all the control I had and kissed her more passionate and a bit rougher.