runaway

FOURTEEN | CAR WORTH STEALING

FOURTEEN | CAR WORTH STEALING

The engine revs beneath Emmett as the adrenaline overwhelms his blood stream and smoke still lines his lungs from the cigarette finished only moments prior. The back of his mind still remains on the Ziploc he found in her nightstand. His intentions were not to stumble upon her secrets, and yet, he found one still. He justifies and justfies why she would have pills tucked away, but he is too terrified to ask. There were only two left, so surely those were the last she would ever take, or so he tells himself at least. But, that is on the back of his mind. The rest of his mind is focused on the task at hand.

In a mix of blue and green, his eyes meet those of the young woman standing between the two cars, the shirt she once wore in her hand to act in substitute of a flag or pistol. He recognizes the gleam in her eyes and the smirk on her lips just as she recognizes his adrenalinic grip on the steering wheel and his darkened eyes.

She raises her arms above her head, her breasts practically spilling from her bra. The cocky smirk on his lips widens with a glance towards the driver of the car beside him and the determined look he bears. Returning his eyes to the road before him, a presence captures his attention in the side mirror, a familiar brunette standing on the edge of the crowd, fingers fiddling as always.

The shock of seeing her almost causes him to miss the falling of the shirt in his peripheral. His opponent floors the gas pedal while Emmett shifts his car into gear and immediately follows suit. The fluster briefly endured stirs with the dust flying from beneath spinning tires as the vehicle surges forward.

Any nerves previously felt since receiving the text from Liam communicating a change in location to a track which he has never driven drown in the adrenaline vibrating from the engine through him. Like the beginning of most every race, he dawdles milliseconds behind his opponent. As the first curve approaches, the nameless competitor slams on breaks to make the turn, and Emmett performs the drift mastered many races ago. With a middle finger in the air and a laugh on his lips, he passes the other car, flying down the course with no chance of being caught.

The course lacks the same tree density as the usual one, though still enough litter about to guide the way. The few miles pass beneath the treads of his tires in a three digit miles per hour, never glancing back at the other car as he finally drifts across the track end.

No matter the staggering amount of wins Emmett continuously accumulates, he is certain nothing will ever surpass the feeling of crossing the finish line. The adrenaline still pulsing in his veins, the rush of people swarming his car in drunken celebration, the sound of his name echoing amongst the treetops. The sight of jett standing back, barely visible through the crowd surrounding, arms crossed, watching him with a smile he could have sworn of pride. Emmett climbs from the car, ignoring those cheering and thrusting beers in his face as they mosh, pushing through them until standing face to face with the one who caught his moments before the race began.

"Didn't expect to see you here," Emmett says.

Jett shrugs. "I ran into Liam walking down the street. He told me you had a race, so I asked if I could tag along."

"Why?" he asks, not bothering to hiding his surprise.

"Would you believe me if I said I missed you?" she said, her smile obnoxious.

"No," he says, a mix of a scoff and a chuckle passing his lips.

"Good. Now, let's go, sweetheart." Jett reaches for his hand to pull him back towards the vehicle he just left, now deserted from all but a few stragglers once realized the one being celebrated was not to partake in their celebrating, this time at least.