Chapter 7
Chapter Seven
Izzy
The roar of the crowd fades into the background as I lean against my car, my pulse still hammering from the race.
The dust is still settling around the track, and the scent of fuel and victory is thick in the air.
I should feel satisfied. I shut Tara and Lisa down so hard they’ll be choking on it for weeks.
But instead, there’s a slow, steady thrum in my chest, a mix of adrenaline and something else I don’t want to name.
Xavier steps up beside me, arms crossed, his eyes scanning the track like he’s still replaying the race in his head.
His Mustang is parked a few feet away, the engine still ticking as it cools.
He is close. Closer than I expected, but not close enough.
I won. I proved myself. And yet, as the dust settles, the weight of it all presses in.
I exhale, tilting my head back to look up at the sky. The stars are faint, blurred by the glow of the floodlights lining the track. For a second, I let myself breathe, let myself simply exist in this moment, free of noise and pressure.
“You good?” Xavier’s voice is quieter now, more controlled. Not the cocky, confident tone he had when he backed me up against Tara, but something softer. Something real.
I glance at him, catching the way his blue eyes scan my face like he’s checking for cracks. Like he can see past all the fire and adrenaline to the part of me that isn’t as untouchable as I pretend to be.
I swallow hard and force a smirk. “Why wouldn’t I be? I wiped the floor with you.”
His lips twitch, but he doesn’t take the bait. “That’s not why I asked.”
The air between us shifts, settling into something heavier. I look away, focusing on the track, on how the dirt still looks fresh from our tires tearing through it. It’s easier than looking at him. Easier than acknowledging how tight my chest feels.
“I’m fine,” I say finally. “This is what I wanted.”
A beat of silence. Then, “Is it?”
I turn to him, brows furrowing. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
Xavier leans against the car beside me, so close his shoulder nearly brushes mine. He doesn’t look at me right away. He exhales as if choosing his next words carefully.
“It means you won,” he says, his voice even. “You shut them up. You proved your point. So why do you still look like you’re waiting for a fight?”
His words hit a little too close to home, and I don’t like it. Not one bit.
I huff out a breath and turn away, dragging a hand through my hair. “Because it’s never just one fight, X. You know that.”
Silence stretches between us. Then, softly, “Yeah. I know.”
Something in his tone makes me look at him again. There’s no teasing smirk this time, no sharp edge to his words. Just understanding. It makes my stomach flip for reasons that have nothing to do with racing.
For a second, neither of us speaks. The noise from the track seems farther away, as if we’re standing in our own little world, separate from everything else. The weight on my chest doesn’t disappear, but it eases a little.
Xavier nudges me lightly with his elbow. “Come on. I owe you a burger or something for that ass-kicking you gave me.”
I snort. “Damn right, you do.”
His grin is slow and lazy. “And yet I still feel like I won.”
I roll my eyes but don’t argue. Because maybe, just maybe, I feel the same way.
The neon sign flickers above The Diner, casting a warm glow against the cool night air.
It’s been here forever. This is our place.
The place we’ve come to since we were kids, cramming into booths with greasy fries and milkshakes, laughing until our stomachs hurt.
It’s the kind of spot that never changes, no matter how much we do.
The bell above the door jingles as we step inside, and the familiar scent of sizzling burgers and fresh coffee wraps around me like a worn-in hoodie. The vinyl booths are cracked in places, and the jukebox in the corner is still half-broken, yet it somehow always plays the right song.
Mia’s the last to arrive and slides into our usual booth, stealing a fry off Nolan’s plate before he even has a chance to eat one. He swats at her hand, but she grins, popping it into her mouth like she owns the place.
“Unbelievable,” Nolan mutters, shoving the plate toward the center of the table in defeat.
“Sharing is caring, Noles,” Mia says sweetly, then turns to me. “Okay, let’s talk about the absolute wreckage you left on that track tonight. I don’t think Tara’s ego will ever recover.”
I smirk, leaning back in the booth. “She had it coming.”
Xavier’s sitting next to me, stretching an arm across the back of the booth like he owns the damn place. “Understatement of the year.”
Nolan shakes his head. “Still can’t believe you beat Xavier by a full car length.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Xavier drawls, taking a lazy sip of his soda. “Let the girl have her moment.”
Mia snorts. “Oh, we will. We will never let her forget this.”
I grin, the warmth in my chest settling into something solid. This is what I needed. The easy rhythm of conversation, the way we fall into place like we always have. No whispers, no doubts, just the four of us.
The rest of our food arrives, and between bites of my burger and stolen fries from Nolan’s plate, I let myself soak it all in.
Mia’s animated gestures as she tells a ridiculous story about her little brother sneaking a frog into their house.
Nolan’s exasperated eye roll as he tries (and fails) to hide his amusement.
Xavier’s quiet chuckle, the way his knee presses against mine under the table like an anchor.
For the first time in what feels like forever, the weight in my chest lightens. This is home. These people, this place, this feeling. And no matter what happens next, no matter what fight comes my way, I know one thing for sure. I’m not alone.
We’re well into October, and the halls are decked out for Homecoming. I stare at the nomination list posted outside the main office, my name scrawled in bold under Homecoming Queen, alongside two names that spike my blood pressure. Tara Lawson and Lisa Bijay.
Of course, it’s them.
The hallway buzzes with excitement. Students gather around the list, whispering and pointing. Some glance my way, some smile, and others, mainly Tara’s group, exchange smug looks, already acting as if the crown is hers.
“Holy shit.” Mia skids to a stop next to me, gripping my arm like she’s afraid I might pass out. “You’re up for Queen?”
I snort, crossing my arms. “Yeah. Try to contain your shock.”
She ignores me, already scrolling through her phone. “Do you know what this means? We are officially in full campaign mode. We need posters, social media blasts, maybe even a ‘Vote for Izzy’ campaign video…”
“Mia.” I press a hand to her shoulder before she spirals. “I don’t even care about Homecoming.”
“Well, you should! You deserve to win.” She glares down the hall at Tara and Lisa, who are basking in the attention as if they already have tiaras glued to their heads. “And I refuse to let those two take this without a fight.”
Before I can remind her I have zero interest in being Homecoming Queen, Xavier’s voice cuts through the noise. “This is getting interesting.”
I turn to see him leaning against the lockers, arms crossed, a smirk firmly in place. Next to him, Nolan scans the list, eyebrows raised. “You, me, and Owen Chandler,” Xavier muses, nodding at the Homecoming King nominees. “That’s one hell of a lineup.”
I roll my eyes. “Oh great, you get to compete with your best friend while I get stuck with them.” I jerk my chin toward Tara and Lisa, who are whispering and giggling like they’re in some bad teen movie.
Nolan snorts. “Yeah, good luck with that.”
Mia, never one to miss a chance for drama, claps her hands together. “Okay, hear me out. What if Izzy and Xavier both win? Power-couple victory.”
I choke. “Mia, no.”
Xavier, the cocky bastard, grins. “I wouldn’t hate it.”
I elbow him in the ribs, but before I can say anything else, a too-sweet voice cuts in.
“Well, well, well. Look who made the list.” Tara.
She and Lisa saunter up, their designer backpacks slung over their shoulders like badges of honor.
Tara’s smile is sugar-coated poison. “Didn’t think you were the type to care about Homecoming, Izzy. ”
“I’m not.” I turn to leave, but Lisa has to add her two cents.
“Then maybe you should drop out,” she says, her tone dripping with faux innocence. “Save yourself the embarrassment.”
I stop. Slowly, I glance back at them, forcing a smirk. “Embarrassment?” I echo. “Like the kind you felt when I left you in my dust on the track?”
Lisa’s face flushes, but Tara recovers quickly. “Sweetheart,” she purrs, stepping closer. “Racing and Homecoming are two different worlds. And I hate to break it to you, but this?” She gestures to the list. “This is our world.”
Xavier chuckles lowly beside me, but I don’t take my eyes off Tara.
“You’re right,” I say easily. “This is your world. The drama, the fake smiles, the desperate need for validation.” I lean in slightly, my voice dropping to a whisper just for her. “But the thing about me, Tara? I don’t play by your rules.”
Her jaw clenches slightly, barely noticeable, but I see it.
Lisa crosses her arms. “Then why not back out?”
I flash them a slow, lazy grin. “Because now? Now I want to win.”
Mia squeals behind me, Nolan chuckles, and Xavier smirks as if he saw this coming from a mile away.
Tara huffs, flipping her hair. “We’ll see about that.”
She storms off, Lisa right behind her. The second they’re out of earshot, Mia grabs my shoulders. “THAT WAS ICONIC!”
I shake my head, rubbing my temples. “I swear, I don’t even care about this.”
Xavier loops an arm over my shoulder, his voice dripping with amusement. “You do now.”
And damn it, he’s right.