Double Star

19 : The race

PoV Sarah

When Luke called me yesterday to tell me the time and place of the race, he failed to mention he'd be late. And here I am—Saturday evening, nearly thirty minutes waiting like a complete idiot in some sketchy part of town.

"Luke, answer me or you're doing your stupid race alone," I muttered, calling him for what felt like the hundredth time.

"I'd rather answer you in person," said a deep, hoarse voice behind me.

I spun around. And there he was—the cause of all my frustration—wearing a sleek black jumpsuit and carrying a helmet under his arm. God. I didn't think it was possible, but he looked even hotter than usual.

"You're late!" I snapped, arms crossed, trying to mask how much I'd actually missed him. He stepped closer and, to my surprise, kissed my cheek.

My eyes widened. He was so... casual, so natural with me. Like we'd known each other forever. I didn't say a word—I was too caught up in the warmth of his lips on my cold cheek.

"Sorry for making you wait, princess," he murmured, then gently took my hand.

"Can I know why you're running like that? And where exactly are we going?" I asked, trying to keep up with his pace. As expected, he didn't answer.

Typical Luke.

"Luke! I'm talking to you. I'm not some dog that'll just follow you around without asking questions, you know?"

"Here we are." He stopped abruptly.

In front of us stood a loud, dimly lit building that looked like trouble. I scanned the crowd in disbelief. The place was packed—with what I could only describe as... chaos. Half-naked girls in bras and miniskirts, burly tattooed men drinking and laughing, the air reeking of alcohol and adrenaline.

"Luke, don't tell me this is a gang race?!" I spun toward him, nearly shouting.

Suddenly, everything made sense. The weird looks the students gave him, the mysterious late-night drives, that guy with the tattoos in the forest... My palms were sweating, my throat tightening.

This wasn't safe.

And if my aunt ever found out where I was? She'd kill me.

"Relax. No one's going to hurt you—not as long as I'm here," he said, way too casually for my liking.

"Luke, this is illegal! Street racing can get you jail time! And you didn't even warn me? How can I trust you now?"

My legs started trembling. People were staring. Some with curiosity. Others... with something darker in their eyes. What if someone recognized me? What if the police showed up? I'd heard street racers could face three months in jail and a $1,000 fine. My aunt would lose it.

I'd be grounded till I was thirty.

"So now you're scared?" he said with a smirk, clearly amused.

"You think this is funny?! Have you completely lost your mind? Do I look like some joke to you?" I shouted, unable to contain my anger anymore.

The crowd around us fell silent. Then, like some sick show, whistles and cheers broke out. Girls narrowed their eyes at me. Some guys started biting their lips and staring. I wanted to disappear.

"See what you did?!" I hissed at Luke, biting my thumb in frustration. He just looked at me with that same playful grin.

ERRRGH. I SWEAR I'M GOING TO RIP MY HAIR OUT. THIS BOY IS DRIVING ME INSANE.