Page 38 of The Consequence of You
This is a race.
It’s a goddamn car race.
“Let me out, Asher.”
My demand falls on deaf ears. He just revs back at the guy in the other car and mimes shooting a gun at him.
A pretty girl wearing denim shorts and a handkerchief-style cropped top that barely contains her boobs, waves a starting flag as if this whole situation isn’t utterly crazy.
“Asher?” Turns out being ignored is frustrating.
I probably have a maximum of five seconds to get out of his car, but something pins me to my seat. Something inexplicable and seriously reckless has me staying exactly where I am.
It’s common knowledge that my mother died in a car accident. And yet Asher’s brought me here. Just like our conversation yesterday, he tests me in a way no one else does.
He twists in his seat and looks me dead in the eye, his forest green orbs taking me in, searching my dark irises for permission. Adrenaline skitters through my veins, myheart pounds, and I feel something inside me stir. Something I haven’t felt for a very long time. Nervousness? Fear?
Excitement?
Before I can properly identify it, a horn sounds, and we’re off.
We leave the clearing and pull into another winding lane, barely wide enough for two cars in places. Asher has his foot flat down, and we’re already a nose ahead. The red car is gaining on us quickly though, and he overtakes us on the first bend. Instead of crying out in frustration like I expect, Asher howls and laughs maniacally.
For the next few minutes, it’s our car playing catch up.
We whip round the next corner, and despite my seatbelt, I find myself pressed against the car door. I grip the sides of the seat next to me and close my eyes.
What the fuck was I thinking?
Seconds tick by, and I remind myself that people recognised him when we arrived, even with his mask on. I think about his confidence as he traded taunts with the other driver. It’s clearly not the first time he’s done this. There were no marks on his car, no dints. Have I ever seen him at school hurt or injured? No. Asher is as good at this as everything else he does.
He has this under control.
I force myself to relax. I let myself feel the speed, the precision and skill with which he handles the car. After the next bend, I open my eyes. The road is dark and lit only by Asher’s headlights. Other than the car we’re racing, we’ve not passed another vehicle. I can only presume this is private land.
“My mother was killed in a car accident, you know?” I raise my voice so it can be heard over the rumbling engine.My accusation is clear. What he’s doing is both dangerous, and insensitive. He shrugs, his focus on the road unwavering.
“I know.”
“You didn’t stop to think that this could be triggering for me?”
“Is it?” he shouts over the roar of the engine. When I don’t answer, he continues. “You’re enjoying it, right? It’s making you feel alive, isn’t it?”
Like always, when he asks me something I don’t want to answer, I ignore him.
I roll down the window and put my head out, feeling the wind whip past me. Tugging off the mask, I throw it into the footwell. He’s right, it’s exhilarating.
We’re gaining on the other car; its brake lights shining red when it approaches what looks like the tightest corner so far.
We hurtle towards him, and instead of slowing down, Asher increases his speed until there are only a few metres between us. For the first time in the race, I’m genuinely worried. The next corner is tight, really tight.
At the last moment, Asher brakes hard, steers tightly, puts his foot down, and pushes us out of the corner onto the straight stretch. He floors it, and we cross the finishing line barely a second before our opponent to screams and cheers from the crowd.
Asher spins the car around sharply and pulls the handbrake up hard so we skid for several metres before coming to a stop. He shakes his head before pulling up his mask, uncovering the bottom half of his face. Leaning across the car, he holds my jaw lightly before pressing his lips to mine for the briefest of seconds. Before I can react, he pullsaway and recovers his face. He slaps the steering wheel and roars,
“Fuck yeah!”
Holy fucking shit.
