08

Missy's point of View;

Morning sunlight kissed the edges of campus buildings, and the breeze felt calmer today, like it knew I needed peace.

I tugged my hoodie over my head and adjusted my backpack as I walked toward class. Another day, another attempt to blend in.

Then I saw him.

Nico.

Leaning against the wall outside the building, hands tucked in his jacket, eyes low like he was thinking about something heavier than the books in his bag.

He looked up and his gaze softened when it landed on me.

He didn’t smile, but he nodded once and walked toward me, falling into step beside me without a word.

My heart did that tiny skip again.

He felt safe. Not loud, not chaotic. Just steady. Out of all the guys, he was the one I didn’t feel like running from.

His presence didn’t wrap around me like a warning. It felt like calm.

I peeked at him as we walked.

“Hey,” I whispered.

He nodded again. “Hey.”

As we slid into our seats in class, I leaned in a little and whispered, “How was the party?”

He stared at the wall ahead like it had the answer. “Good,” he muttered.

But his tone said otherwise.

Something in his shoulders was offtense.

I glanced at his face, at the tight line of his jaw, the way he avoided my eyes.

I looked down at my fingers, fidgeting with the strap of my bag.

“Why didn’t you come?” he asked, quietly, then cleared his throat like he hadn’t meant to say it out loud.

I bit down a smile.

Did he… miss me?

I looked up and met his eyes. “I have a bad history with parties,” I said softly. “So I avoid them a lot.”

He turned to face me properly, a frown tugging at his mouth.

“But we were there. No one is going to hurt you. You know that, right?”

His voice was protective more firm than usual. Like he needed me to believe him.

My chest warmed.

“I know,” I said, then raised a finger slowly and tapped between his brows. “But you frown too much.”

He blinked.

“Smile more,” I whispered with a soft giggle.

And just like that, Nico cracked a grin.

It wasn’t big. It wasn’t loud. But it was real and it was beautiful.

We sat there, side by side, and for a second the class, the school, the shadows of our pasts disappeared.

Nico didn’t say much afterward just walked beside me again, hands in his pockets, quiet.

But I didn’t mind. His silence wasn’t awkward. It just was.

We ended up at the little restaurant we always went to the one with chipped wooden tables, warm lighting, and burgers that made you forget your problems for at least five bites.

As we stepped in, I spotted them all.

My roommate was already seated beside Marco, her arm tucked around his like she always belonged there.

Enzo was tossing fries into his mouth like a bored King. And Alexander.

He was already staring at me.

Eyes locked.

It should’ve scared me. It used to scare me.

Now… it just made my heart beat loud in my ears.

I slid into the seat between Nico and my roommate, pretending not to feel the warmth creeping up my neck.

“Hey, sunshine,” my roommate said with a teasing grin. “How was class?”

“Quiet,” I replied with a smile.

“And now she talks,” Enzo muttered, raising an eyebrow.

I laughed softly and picked up the menu even though I always ordered the same thing.

Halfway through placing our orders, Marco leaned forward.

“We’re going to a race tonight,” he said, eyes glinting. “Alexander’s racing. You coming?”

Before I could even think, I nodded.

Fast.

Too fast.

Everyone burst out laughing.

“You must like racing,” my roommate said, her voice warm with amusement.

I kept my eyes on the table and gave a soft, “Yeah.”

But that wasn’t true.

I hated racing.

The loud engines, the smoke, the way everything blurred past too fast to breathe it reminded me too much of the night my brother died.

But I didn’t say that. Couldn’t.

He loved racing. He used to talk about how the wind made him feel free.

So if they liked it maybe I could learn to breathe through it, just a little.

I focused on my burger as it landed in front of me, the smell grounding me.

I took a big bite and hummed softly. My roommate always said I ate like it was a love story.

Then I felt it.

Fingers in my hair.

Not harsh, not pulling just playing.

Twirling a strand slowly, absentmindedly.

My breath caught.

I turned slightly, and there he was. Alexander.

Still staring, eyes unreadable, his other arm resting lazily on the back of my chair.

He didn’t say anything.

Didn’t have to.

I swallowed hard and returned to my burger, pretending not to feel every twist of his fingers like a spark behind my ear.

Nico glanced at me and smirked. I stuck my tongue out at him playfully.

And for a moment just a flicker I forgot the fear, the noise, the weight of my past.

Tonight, I was going to a race.

Even if it terrified me.

Dressed in Nerves

"Everyone's going to be there tonight," my roommate said, practically glowing as she fluffed her curls in the mirror. "Like everyone."

I swallowed.

The thought alone made my chest feel tight, like my lungs had forgotten how to do their job.

I stared at myself in the mirror, fixing the hem of the black top I'd chosen.

It clung just enough to make me uncomfortable, and the blue jeans tight, high-waisted made my curves look more grown than I felt.

"This good?" I asked softly, turning slightly to see the back.

My voice barely reached over the soft music playing in our dorm room.

Sienna turned from the mirror and looked me up and down with a mischievous smile.

"Trying to distract Alexander, huh?"

I turned red immediately. "what? No, I just... it's just jeans."

She laughed. "Relax. You look hot, Missy. Like, magazine-cover hot."

I looked at myself again and didn't recognize the girl in the mirror.

She looked like she belonged at a party. At a race.

Like she wasn't running from a past filled with blood and screams and a brother who never made it home.

Was this what normal girls wore to races?

"You nervous?" my roommate asked, walking up beside me and fixing a loose strand of my hair.

I hesitated.

"I've never been to a race. Not one like this."

"I get it. But you'll be fine. Stick by me and the boys, alright?"

I nodded slowly, but my hands clenched into little fists at my sides. Sienna didn't notice.

Or maybe she did and just didn't want to ruin the mood.

Because deep down, something didn't sit right in my stomach.

Maybe it was the way the air felt heavier than usual.

Or how I couldn't stop glancing at the window, like expecting someone or something to jump out.

Still, when my roommate grabbed her purse and turned to me with a wink, I followed her.

Even though my gut screamed that tonight wasn't just about racing.

Something was going to happen.

And I wouldn't like it.

The night air was thick with excitement and danger.

Engines roared like beasts, echoing across the abandoned lot on the edge of the city.

People gathered in clusters, neon lights painting their faces in shades of pink, blue, and green.

Music boomed from car stereos. Smoke curled from tires and cigarettes.

Everything about the scene screamed chaos.but somehow, it felt alive.

Missy clutched her roommate's hand a little tighter as they approached the heart of it all.

She tried not to flinch when a motorcycle zoomed past them, kicking up dust.

Her black top clung to her, and her jeans felt tighter under the weight of so many stares.

"Hey, relax," her roommate whispered with a smile. "You're safe. You're with us."

Missy swallowed, her eyes scanning the crowd until she spotted them.

The boys.

Nico was leaning against a matte black car, spinning a keychain in his fingers, and when his eyes met hers, his frown softened into something almost warm.

Marco had an arm slung over her roommate's shoulder the moment they reached him, whispering something in her ear that made her laugh.

Enzo just nodded at Missy, his eyes unreadable.

And then there was Alexander.

He was standing next to a gleaming muscle car, dressed in all black, a single silver chain around his neck glinting in the light.

His tattoos peeked out from his sleeves, and his hand was wrapped around a cigarette he didn't seem interested in smoking.

His eyes locked with Missy's, unreadable, heavy and she forgot how to breathe for a moment.

"You came," he said, his voice deep and calm, like thunder before a storm.

Missy nodded.

"Of course she did," Nico cut in, walking over to her and gently flicking a piece of lint off her shoulder. "She was too excited to say no."

Missy rolled her eyes with a small smile.

"You like racing?" Enzo asked from behind her, clearly still amused.

She turned halfway and nodded.

"I do now," she whispered, and her voice was nearly swallowed by the engines revving up in the distance.

Truth was, she didn't.

Not even a little.

But her twin brother used to.

He used to talk about races the way people talked about dreams. Like they were dangerous and beautiful and worth every second.

This night felt like stepping into his world.

"Yo, they're about to start lining up," someone called out.

Alexander took one last look at her, dropped the cigarette, and stepped forward.

"Stay close to Nico," he said without looking back.

Then he disappeared into the growing crowd of racers, where adrenaline replaced fear and speed became its own kind of language.

Missy watched him go, her heart thudding in her ears.

Tonight wasn't like the others.

Missy's heart thumped so loudly it drowned out the roaring engines and the cheering crowd.

There it was.

His car.

The matte black with deep red rims. The signature flaming bow design with her name-Missy-scribbled like a tattoo across the side in silver cursive.

She remembered painting that with him, laughing as he told her "You'll always ride with me, lil sis."

But this couldn't be.

He was dead.

Dead.

She took a step closer, her breath hitching, eyes stinging with unshed tears.

"Yo, Mark, you're next!" someone shouted across the lot.

Mark.

Her knees buckled slightly.

"Mark..." she whispered, her voice cracking under the weight of disbelief.

Then she heard it.

"Missy! Let's go!" Nico's voice called from behind her, but she couldn't move.

Her head slowly turned and she saw him.

Mark.

Standing a few feet away. Lean, older, taller but it was him. The same green eyes.

The scar near his temple. The crooked grin that used to drive her nuts.

Except now, he wasn't smiling.

He was staring at her like he'd seen a ghost too.

"Missy?" he whispered, taking a step toward her.

She stumbled back.

"No..." she whispered, her chest rising rapidly.

"No. You're dead... I saw your picture. They said you were"

His eyes widened, panic flashing across his face.

"Wait, wait! Missy"

But she didn't wait.

Her feet took off before her brain could catch up, legs sprinting through the thick crowd, past the cars, the lights, the noise.

He lied.

They lied.

Her mom lied.

Tears burned her cheeks as she shoved past strangers, her breath catching in sobs she couldn't control.

Her brother was alive.

Her whole life was a lie.

And now that she'd seen him what did that mean?

What did it all mean?

Behind her, voices shouted.

Nico.

Alexander.

Mark.

But Missy didn't look back.

She couldn't.