BANE OF HIS EXISTENCE

Chapter 19:DON'T HATE THE PLAYER. (PART 1)

MAYA.

One excruciating week. Seven endless days since my world collided with his. Seven sleepless nights since we shared a bed, our bodies inches apart, yet emotionally miles away.

The memory of his words still stung: "Nothing happened between us." A statement that felt like a rejection, even though I had never mustered the courage to confess my true feelings.

For days, I wallowed in self-pity, surrendering to the anguish that threatened to consume me. But as the hours ticked by, I grew tired of my despair. I was done with the sulking, the endless what-ifs, and the crippling heartache. It was time to take control, to shatter the chains of melancholy that had held me captive for so long. With newfound determination, I vowed to do whatever it took to exorcise him from my mind and reclaim my shattered heart.

My quest for distraction led me down a dismal path, forcing me to confront a painful truth: my social life was woefully lacking. Outside of Sasha and Eric, my interactions were few and far between. It was a bleak realization, one that highlighted the monotonous nature of my daily existence.

With a sense of desperation, I scoured my meager list of hobbies, searching for something - anything - that could provide a welcome escape. But as I scrolled through the paltry options, one activity stood out, its memory stirring a long-dormant excitement within me. Street racing. The mere thought sent a thrill coursing through my veins. It was street racing?

Yes, you heard that right - street racing. The rush of adrenaline, the roar of engines, the thrill of pushing speed limits... it was a passion I thought I'd long abandoned, but its allure still lingered, tempting me to revisit the thrill of the ride.

The irony wasn't lost on me - I'd chosen the one activity that linked me to the person I was desperately trying to erase from my mind. It was a cruel joke, really. How pathetic was I, clinging to the very thing that reminded me of him? You might be thinking, "Maya, this is a recipe for disaster, don't do it!" And, honestly, you might be right. But I couldn't help myself. Racing had a hold on me, a siren's call that I couldn't resist.

Racing was more than just a thrill or a hobby - it was my escape, my sanctuary. When I was behind the wheel, the world melted away, and all that mattered was the rush of adrenaline, the roar of the engine, and the thrill of the ride. My worries, my fears, my heartache - all of it faded into the background, replaced by a singular focus on the road ahead. In those moments, nothing else existed, and that was liberating.

The night beckoned, a siren's call to the racing world. I could lose myself in the thrill of the ride, the wind whipping through my hair, the roar of the engine drowning out my worries. But, alas, fate had other plans. Tonight was the night of Noah's friend's party, a Friday night extravaganza that promised to be a chaotic mess of drunken revelry and hormonal angst.

And, of course, Sasha would be there, her eyes shining with excitement at the prospect of seeing her crush. She'd never let me get away with skipping the party, not when school was out and the weekend had officially begun. To survive the night with my sanity intact, I needed an antidote, a way to steal myself against the mayhem that awaited. Racing was my only hope.

"Damnit!"

I muttered a curse under my breath, swiftly ducking behind the pillar under the bridge as I spotted Andrew and his group of friends huddled in a circle, their animated chatter carrying through the air. Wait a minute... "Why am I hiding?" I whispered to myself, double-checking my disguise for the night. The hoodie, the sunglasses, and the messy hair - I was almost unrecognizable.