Chapter 29 #2
My entire body jerks from how hard I stomp on the pedal. But it gives me just enough advantage that I pull ahead of Max at the start of the race. It’s not by much, but first place is first place and I’ll take what I can get.
This time, I use my years of experience watching motorsport races and going over race strategy with Travis to my advantage. No, I don’t have the experience Max has, but I do know the importance of strategy, and I can use what I do know.
Once I’m ahead, I press my foot to the pedal with everything I have, only waiting until the last possible moment to brake on the turns in order not to lose my advantage.
Slightly risky but it allows me to pull a full foot ahead of Max’s kart.
Once ahead, I swerve directly in front of his kart and use my rearview mirrors to make certain my kart stays in front.
When he moves left to try to go around, I anticipate and go left as well. When he moves right, I turn my steering wheel in that direction, cutting off his path. We battle for the rest of the track, and he makes me work for every inch … but I pull it off.
By the time we cross the finish line, it’s my go-kart that’s in the lead position.
“Yes!” I throw up my hand in victory the same way I’d done when I came in first place in my state’s high school debate competition.
Max’s chuckle meets my ears at the same time he pulls up next to my go-kart. The sparkle in his eyes pulls at something low inside of the pit of my stomach. I can’t handle the images that flutter through my mind, so I wag my head and declare myself the winner.
“We still have one more race,” he says dryly, although there’s a smile still playing at the corners of his mouth.
“Do we even have to try for a third time, though?” I ask. “We know who’s going to come out on top.”
He wordlessly lifts an eyebrow, and I roll my eyes.
“If you’re too afraid to go again—”
“Bite your tongue,” I insist. “Afraid. Ha! Leon,” I call.
“Let’s get ready to rumble!” he says in a mock announcer tone.
Energy thrums through me as if I’m a gladiator gearing up for competition. If I’d put my competitiveness to the side and used my reasoning skills, I would’ve recognized that I had no shot of winning this race.
And that it was probably Max going easy on me which allowed me to win the second race. If I’d realized this, it might’ve allowed me to put my ego to the side and just have seen this for the fun, cutesy date night event that it was, but I’m a Townsend and we don’t like losing.
Which is why my ego ends up becoming bruised and battered halfway through the race when Max easily pulls ahead of me. This time I don’t glance over at him out of fear of seeing how seamlessly he’s able to navigate his go-kart.
I will not be losing this race. While I’m not necessarily proud of my next decision, I go with it, nonetheless.
Deciding that I’m not above subterfuge, on the next straightaway I step on the acceleration, drawing my go-kart in line with Max’s.
He maintains his speed, but I have to fight just to stay even with him.
I keep my eyes on the track ahead but also slightly jerk my steering wheel to the right at the same time we come up on our next turn.
The movement makes my kart crash into Max’s.
The impact causes my tires to skid, and a screech pushes its way up and out of my throat.
For extra flare, I throw one of my hands up.
“Annalise!” Max calls, his voice muffled behind the helmet.
I suppress the twinge of guilt that coils around my stomach at the fear in his voice. I’m in the heat of the moment and the only thing on my mind is winning.
“Are you alright?” he calls.
“Ha! Sucker,” I yell back, and then gun the acceleration, speeding ahead while he’s slowed down to check on me. I hear his yelled ‘what’ from behind me as I race to the finish line … this time finishing a near go-kart length ahead of his.
“Winner!” I declare myself as I cross the line.
“Now that was cheating,” he says, sounding breathless as he lifts the helmet off of his head.
I become momentarily distracted by the way his wavy hair sticks out, ruffled from the helmet, and his cheeks are flushed red. For the life of me, I can’t figure out what it is about Max in this state—face red from exertion and concentration—that does it for me but it does.
“Cheating?” I gather myself enough to press an affronted hand to my chest. “I would ne—”
“Right,” he says sharply with narrowed eyes.
I have to fight the giggle that bubbles up inside of my chest.
“She distracted me,” Max says to Leon, who stands next to my car.
Glancing over, I grin at the bewildered expression on Leon’s face. He’s clearly a fan of Max’s and doesn’t want to tell his real-life racing hero that he’s just lost a simple go-karting race.
That’s okay, I’ll do it for him.
“Distracted?” I ask, voice innocent. “Sounds like you weren’t focused to me. Which is a shame for a two time go-kart world champion and all.” I shrug casually. “Looks like you’ve lost your touch.”
I hop out of my go-kart, nearly stumbling with the effort it takes to suppress my laughter.
“She is the winner,” Leon tells Max mournfully.
“Ridiculous,” he mutters, which causes me to lose my composure.
“We will have a rematch,” he says minutes later as we exit the complex housing the racing track.
When Max takes my hand, I don’t pull away or look over my shoulder to see who might be around.
“If you just want to lose again,” I breezily say.
“You tricked me.” He comes to a full stop in front of me. His words hold no bite or bitterness. It’s difficult to pull my gaze away from his lips that are turned upward in a hint of a smile.
Max cups one side of my face and leans in, kissing away any thoughts of go-karts, rematches, or anything not related to how hot and welcoming his mouth feels.
I sigh into the kiss, and he deepens in.
Every part of my body hums in delighted warmth as if stepping out from beneath a tree’s shade on an early summer morning. The sun isn’t quite warm enough to burn you just yet, but its heat sends every cell tingling with an aliveness that wasn’t there a second ago.
“Losing might have its merits,” he says against my mouth.
Wrapping my hand around his wrist, I shake my head. “No.”
He pulls back a little, giving me a surprised look.
“I don’t date losers.”
This is the first time I’ve given words to what Max and I are doing. Dating. It feels almost monumental, yet like it’s not enough all at the same time.
When I peer up into his eyes, he looks as if he recognizes it, too.
“It’s a good thing then,” he says before pressing a kiss to my jawline.
I stifle a groan. “What’s a good thing?” It comes out as a whisper.
He moves his mouth to my ear. “That I’m sitting at number one on the grid.”
Electricity courses through me. Partly from the way his lips graze the skin of my earlobe and partly because, yes, it is a turn on to be in the arms of the driver who, so far this season, is in the lead to win it all.
A twinge of guilt crawls out of the hiding place in my stomach, but I stamp it out as if I’m stomping out a small fire before it can grow and destroy everything in its wake.
Unfortunately, the embers left behind manage to ignite into something else.
“Do you have to get home early tonight?”
His question briefly pulls me out of the downward spiral.
“N-No,” I say, my voice sounding shakier than I want. I act like I don’t see the way Max’s eyebrows pinch in confusion right before he takes my hand, directing us toward the pier to walk along.
“This is my favorite time of night,” he says. “Was my father’s too,” he adds as if falling into a memory.
But the mention of his father directs my attention back to my earlier thoughts.
What if you really scared him?
What if he’s thinking about his father because of what you did in that go-kart?
My mind screams at me that I’m a terrible person for the stunt I pulled earlier with the go-kart.
I start to do the worst thing possible when my brain turns on me like this.
But I can’t ignore this growing obsession.
All of the potential ‘what-ifs’ begin to spiral through my mind and I can’t look away from them. Not this time.
“Is something the matter?” Max’s question cuts through my last thought.
“What?” It comes out in a pant. “Nothing,” I say before he can answer.
You lied. What if you’ve hurt his feelings?
I’m a horrible person.
You know what he witnessed as a child. What if what you’ve just brought back all of those painful memories?
The obsessions grow louder, making me unable to stop myself when I blurt out, “Are you okay?”
He gives me a confused expression.
“About earlier,” I say without thinking. “I mean, the fake accident. Are you okay? I didn’t really scare you with that or anything, did I?”
The V between his brows deepens. “No,” he says. “Briefly, but the moment you took off in the go-kart, I knew you were fine.”
He’s lying. Or worse, what if he doesn’t even realize the trauma I’ve caused him?
The obsessions don’t stop.
“But you know it was just a joke, right?” Even as the rational part of my mind screams at me to drop it, to let it go, I feel the need to ask for reassurance again.
“I’m aware,” he says.
I nod and turn back toward the direction we were walking, unaware that we’d stopped.