ᴄʜᴀsɪɴɢ ᴄᴀʀs - 𝘯𝘢𝘴𝘤𝘢𝘳 𝘥𝘳𝘪𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘪𝘮𝘢𝘨𝘪𝘯𝘦𝘴

[13] chase elliott ✗

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"chug! chug! chug!"

you roll your eyes at the chants all around you. it was new years eve, which meant Bubba Wallace was throwing his annual new year's eve  party. which you and your boyfriend chase elliott decided to attend.

and currently, you were being chanted on to chug a brand new bottle of vodka. before you dated your best friend Chase, you were quite the party animal. everyone knows who you are, not just as Chase Elliott's, driver of the number nine car, media personnel, but as the woman who hypes up parties. you went to every party you can. after all, you were only twenty-two years old. after you and Chase Elliott decided to make it official, you calmed down a lot.

ah, Chase Elliott. the love of your life. you met Chase in high school, and immediately clicked. he ended up following in his father's footsteps, and becoming a professional nascar driver. he was able to get you a job as his own media personnel and assistant. basically where you run his social media accounts while he's having meetings, meet n greets, races, qualifying, etc. you organize meetings and plan things for him, after all, your his assistant. shortly after you started working for him, you noticed how jealous you were getting when you noticed the female fans try to flirt with him. luckily for you, he was head over heels with you before you knew you liked him and never payed attention to the girls. when annual nascar banquet came around, he asked you to go as his date, of course you said yes. and later that night, you two ended up having a kiss, then the following day, the two of you confronted each other of your feelings and then made it official.

"chug! chug! chug!"

you bite your lip, debating if you want to walk away and ruin your repetition, or just chug the vodka bottle that won't do anything, not even get you slightly tipsy because your good at holding your alcohol.

a girl who worked for nascar pushed her way through the crowd, and you rolled your eyes. you knew exactly who this girl was. Amber Vega. you don't exactly know what her job is in nascar, but it's not very important. the blonde girl hates your guts, for taking "the man of her dreams."  you roll your eyes at the sight of her skimpy outfit, a really short cop top that had a very low v-neck (her boobs were practically falling out) and the shorts that were practically spandex were practically showing her ass, fishtail tights underneath the shorts and disappearing in knee high black leather high heel boots. her blonde hair curled and her makeup way over the top.

Amber crosses her arms over her chest, popping out one hip, a smirk on her bright red lips. her eyes then trail down your body, probably judging what your wearing. you had on a simple skin tight black dress that showed off your curves perfectly, and it only went thigh high and it went up to your shoulders, being a sleeveless dress. you had fishtail tights underneath along with black open toe heels. your hair was straighten and you had your makeup done perfectly and not too extreme.

your boyfriend was wearing an all black suit, even a black tie, along with some black vans.

"come onnnn y/n. don't be a big baby and lose to me chugging." Amber drags on, stepping closer to you seductively, the crowd around you making that "oooo" noise.

you raise your eyebrows at her. you couldn't believe she had the nerve to approach you asking you to lose to her. she knew you were good at chugging alcohol, but looks like it's been a long time and she assumes you aren't as good anymore. you give her a smirk, opening your hand out. "okay."