Page 28 of Speed Crush

A flush spreads over my chest. I look straight ahead.

Don’t say anything. Don’t breathe too hard.

Just drive.

We take the last curve, then roll into the pit.

The engine cuts.

Silence.

Except for our breathing.

Not heavy.

Just…intimate.

I’m soaked. Flushed. And hyper-aware of every breath he takes.

He doesn’t move. I don’t either.

My body feels undone. Like I’ve been touched everywhere even though he never did.

And when I finally climb out of the kart, my legs wobble like I’ve just come down from something I never quite reached.

Noah stands beside me. Quiet. Watching. His gaze dips once—quick, unreadable—then slides away.

But when he adjusts the front of his suit, it’s not subtle.

Our eyes meet.

And it’s clear—we both felt every second of that lap.

Even if we didn’t touch.

“Dude, I told you it was under the seat!”

Voices echo from down the hallway. Sneakers squeak. Laughter gets closer.

Noah straightens instantly. I jump away from the kart like it’s on fire, trying to look normal.

I slap both hands over my chest—like that’s going to hide the hard peaks showing through my T-shirt—then cross my arms fast, like I’m just cold and totally unbothered.

Out of the corner of my eye, I catch Noah adjusting himself.

He presses down on the front of his suit—firm, deliberate—like he’s trying to will something away. Then, realizing just how obviousthatmove is, he casually folds both hands in front like he’s posing for a school photo.

Our eyes lock for half a second.

His look says:Yup. You too?

I don’t want to wait around for conversation or worse, interrogation, so once again—I bolt.

“I’m just—I’m gonna check something,” I mutter, already halfway out the track.

One of the teens watches me go, blinking. “You better hurry, Ms. June, if you still want lunch in the cafeteria! Pizzas wait for no man!”

I don’t respond, don’t look back.

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