Why Don't We imagines

Daniel < 9

          << A Mile at a Time <<

   You hear the thunderous clapping and roaring of the drunk onlookers. They never really had a purpose to be here; they just watched because they couldn't do this. You grip the wheel tighter, a smirk appearing on your face as you press on the gas. Your engine rumbles loudly, causing more people to cheer.

   You look to your left at your ' competition' and snorted. They looked like they didn't know what they were doing. One had a model and brand of car that would blow on the first quarter, the next was punching an invisible punching bag. He had to be the overconfident dick that you thought he must be. The girl after him, though, was timid and nervous. She clearly hadn't done this before.

   You smirk, feeling confident you'll win. You look at your Brest friend, Zach , asking if he was about to raise the flag, but before he can, there is a rev of an engine and a car pulls up to your left. You look at it in question, anxiety slowly creeping in. The car has tinted windows, but by the model and purring sounds it made, this was going to be competition.

  Zach walks in front of the cars with a goofy grin. He raises the flag into the air, giving you a wink. You wink back and take a deep breath in. You hold it, waiting for that checkered flag to go down. Your knuckles turn white from gripping the wheel so tight, but that really doesn't matter to you. You only had one thing on your mind- which was always the only thing on your mind for years now- winning.

Eben finally draws down that flag, and you stomp on the gas. You screech forward, the others falling in your rear view mirror. You chuckle, the egotistical jerk had stalled his car.

  You look ahead, having no fear that you wouldn't win with a smile. You round the corner, drifting effortlessly. You let out a laugh, loving the rush you got from driving this recklessly. Your tires screech as you fishtail back into a straight line. You hum, driving pst the onlookers like a blur. Your relaxed posture is grinder to a halt when the mysterious car that showed up just before it started raced past you. You watched in bewilderment, not believing someone got ahead of you. You shift your gear, your engine roaring from a caged beast to an unreleased kracken. You laugh maniacally as you started to gain on the car.

   You kicked your lips in anticipation as you reached the tail of the car.

" Yes!" You shout, happy you were finally gaining.

   A sharp curve was coming up, so you prepared to jerk your wheel and drift wisely. You are bouncing in your seat as you get ahead of the car, finally drifting, but you shout out in frustration when the car whizzes last You. You straighten out, zooming towards them once again. You felt your anger and anxiety rise. You had never lost a race, and now this bitch came in for the first time and is going to beat you.

  You press your first blue NOS button, shooting forward and catching up to the car. You sigh in relief, thanking whoever created the gas for giving you the boost you needed. You saw the end of the line come into sight, and you bite your lip nervously.

   You glance at the car, wondering if you should use your last NOS now, and when it flies forward you know to wait. It might be a nice car, but the driver was going to blow out their NOS before the finish line.

   A few seconds later, the car slows and you smirk triumphantly. You squared your shoulders, your thumb hovering over the blue button.

   You just reach the tail, the finish kind a few meters away. " Bye Bye birdie." You grin.

   You slam your thumb down, the hissing letting you know it worked. Not even a second later, you tilt back as your car lifts on two wheels. You cheer as you pass the finish line. Nobody won when you got behind the wheel.