4. Jameson, age 17
. . .
Sam asked if I love racing, and my first instinct had been to tell her that I love her more.
I’m already flying on adrenaline about the race, but knowing that things are finally changing between her and me fuels a different part of me.
A dark corner of my mind and my heart that has been waiting, dormant for years now.
I’ve never wanted to push Sam. I’ve been content as her best friend, the person she comes to for everything.
We’ve always had hockey in common, and up until today, she’s never questioned her place in my life.
Mostly because I’ve never given her a reason to.
I don’t look at other girls; I don’t talk to them if I can help it, and I absolutely do not date.
I’ve never been interested in anyone else except for Sam.
I only want her. If it’s not Sam, then there will be no one else for me.
Over the years I’ve built myself a certain way, ready to notice what her needs are before my own.
I know everything about her: her favorite color, red, to the specific way she likes veggies cooked, not steamed, and the way she orders her lattes, with a dash of cinnamon and a hint of vanilla.
I know her shoe is a size eight, and she has exactly three more days left until her blades will need to be taken in to be sharpened.
I even know exactly when her period is, thanks to a handy little app on my phone.
Those weeks she needs extra compliments, and I make sure to leave my hoodies around for her to snuggle with because she likes the weight of them on her in school.
I also know that Sam has started looking at me differently lately, and now after tonight's revelations, there will be no more going back for either of us.
My car rumbles over the start line next.
I can feel the searing look of my opponent burning into the side of my face from next to me, but I don’t look at him.
Instead, I let the noise drain away, imagining the curves of the track and myself driving around it.
My eyes flick up to the man responsible for tonight's race. He’s holding a checkered flag, and with a very loaded look at me and my opponent, his hand drops the flag to the ground, signaling the start of the race.
My foot presses down on the gas, and I easily shift gears, propelling myself forward, passing the other guy.
After the first curve, the rhythm and flow come back to me, and I ease into the rest of the drive.
I manage to stay almost a car length ahead of my opponent the entire time; the one time I glance at him he’s glaring hard at me.
I could show off, but winning is more important than my ego tonight.
I catch a quick glance at the crowd waiting on the side and spot Johnny, my older half-brother.
Almost seven years and different moms separate us.
His mom left when the family legacy started sinking; mine left when she realized she had bigger dreams outside of being a mom to two young boys.
Shit situations for both of us; yet, he’s never treated me like a pest. Johnny gives me a short jerk of his head, a nod if you will.
He knows I race here often and doesn’t say anything to our dad to rat me out.
As long as half my winnings go toward the garage, he’s okay with it.
Crimson Bay Tires is our legacy, and according to my older brother, that’s the only thing that matters.
Nearing the last curve, I catch sight of my girl, standing between my friends and the look she shoots me sends an extra shot of adrenaline to my system.
The end is near, and I can sense the battle behind me while my opponent thinks he still has a chance to win.
My eyes flick carefully to my rearview, and my lips twitch with laughter.
That asshole doesn’t stand a chance. My hand clamps down on the gear stick, shifting one more time, before my foot pushes the gas, just to ensure that there’s at least a car length between us.
I sail over the finish line, the bass from my speakers pumping in my car and the rush of the win running in my veins.
After shifting into park, my vehicle is bombarded with spectators and friends.
Each of them thumping my car and slapping my shoulder.
The grin on my lips is easy, but my eyes look past all the faces surrounding me until I find her.
Sam stands off to the side, her hands clasped together in front of her, and there’s a knowing gleam in her eyes.
She already knows what the win does to me.
Before I can stop myself, I cross the distance between us until we’re standing toe-to-toe.
My hands run through my hair, pushing it out of my eyes.
Her smile falters, and her eyes widen while I stare, making her aware of exactly what she does to me.
“Good race, Kane.” She laughs lightly, her eyes darting between mine, trying to ease the tension surrounding us. “Two wins in one night, now what are you going to do?”
My gaze drags up her body from her scuffed sneakers to the top of her blonde head before darting back down to look into her blue eyes.
“Going for the hat-trick, Pretty Girl.” That's all the warning I give her before my hands cup her face and tilt her head back. “I’m going to kiss you now, Sam. If you don’t want this, don’t want me, now's the time to stop it.”
I feel the hitch in her breath and her eyes darken to midnight blue. Her tongue pokes out and runs across her bottom lip, a move I’ve seen her do a thousand times when she’s nervous. “Jameson.”
“Do you want me?” I ask her, my gaze silently pleading with her to finally just admit it.
Sam’s body shakes in my hold, and her eyes fill with the exact emotion she’s been looking at me with for years, the one I feel down to my soul. “Yes.”
My mouth crashes down on hers before she even finishes saying the word.
Years of pent-up feelings and yearning explode through me, and all I can think about is making her mine.
Her lips are soft, our mouths fitting perfectly, like it was always meant to be her and me.
She tastes like heaven and home, her desperation matching mine.
Sam breaks away first, and I have to rein myself in from the unrestrained way I want more of her.
Her lips are red, swollen, and she’s breathing deeply, but the way her eyes shine when she looks at me tells me she is just as destroyed as I am right now.
“Jameson—I, what does this mean?”
I shift my body closer, pulling hers into mine, until I can feel every inch of her pressed tightly to me. My forehead drops to hers, breathing her in. “I want you, Sam. Not just to be your friend. I want all of you.”
“You have all of me,” she whispers, almost like a confession. “You always have.”
I bend down and take her mouth in another bruising kiss. “I love you. Always you, only you, Pretty Girl.”
She takes a deep, stuttering breath and tears fill her eyes. “I love you too.”
My fingers brush the stray hairs blowing in the wind behind her ears, and I smile down at her. The smile I reserve only for her. Sam is mine. Only mine. And I will keep her that way for the rest of our lives.