004

Ryan POV

I was already frustrated today. I had been at it for hours, tuning, testing, and tuning my bike again.

My bike sat on its stand, clean and polished. It was my pride. Unfortunately, one asshole looked down on it. I had tightened the bolts until my knuckles ached. I had wiped grease off the same spot twice and revved the engine so many times the echo of it vibrated through my skull.

But no matter how much I worked, I couldn’t shake the one thing eating at me: Ethan’s smirk.

That asshole’s face haunted me every second. The way he sat across from Jessica at the café like he was rubbing it on my face. What annoyed me most was the way she actually laughed at his jokes, the way he challenged me like it was some game.

My whole body buzzed with rage. If I stopped moving, I felt like I would explode. I muttered to myself, yanking a wrench from the bench. “I’ll crush you, Ethan. I swear to God, I’ll crush you.”

The wrench slipped and clanked against the floor. I cursed loud enough to scare off the stray cat that had been hanging around outside.

“Goddamn it!” I barked, slamming my palm against the bench.

“Careful there, princess,” came a voice behind me. “Wouldn’t want you hurting yourself before the big race.”

My whole body went stiff. That voice. It was definitely him — that smug, cocky, annoying voice.

I spun around, and there he was. He leaned in the doorway like he owned the place. His leather jacket fit him the same way it always had. His smug grin annoyed me and his eyes curved with that annoying smile.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” I snapped, pointing the wrench at him like it was a weapon.

Ethan raised his hands like I was holding him at gunpoint. “Relax, Ryan. I just thought I’d swing by and say hi to my rival. I heard you’ve been training extra hard. I can’t let you get the upper hand, can I?”

“Tsk, news really flies quickly.” I tried to hide my anger, but this guy knew how to drag it out of me. “Are you spying on me now? Jesus Christ, Ethan. Don’t you have somewhere else to be? Like maybe under a hole?”

He chuckled, strolling further inside. “If I lived under a hole, you’d still crawl under it just to lose to me.”

“Fuck you,” I growled, turning back to my bike. I pretended to tighten something that didn’t even need it just to avoid punching him in the face.

Ethan circled the garage slowly, whistling like he was inspecting the place. “Not bad, clean work, but…” He crouched near the rear wheel, tapping it with his knuckles. “…your alignment is slightly off. You’ll burn out your tires before you hit top speed.”

I glared at him. “Oh, look at you, Mr. Expert. Since when do you care about my alignment?”

“Since I don’t want you making excuses when I smoke your ass.” His grin widened, and my blood pressure went up ten points.

“I don’t need excuses. You’ll be choking on my dust.”

“Big words,” he said, standing again. “But your throttle control’s sloppy. I saw you in the last race. You gripped it like you were strangling it. Smoothness, Ryan. Precision. It’s not about rage.”

“Don’t fucking lecture me.” I slammed the wrench down, the sound echoing across the garage. “You think you’re perfect? Untouchable? Fuck you. You’re nothing but a smug piece of shit who gets off on ruining my life.”

Ethan tilted his head, his smirk fading into something sharper. “Ruining your life? You do a pretty good job of that on your own.”

That hit me harder than I wanted to admit. My jaw clenched so tight it hurt. “Say that again.”

“I said…” He stepped closer, his voice dropping low. “…you screw yourself over more than I ever could. You’re so obsessed with beating me that you can’t see straight. You’re not racing to win, Ryan. You’re racing not to lose to me. And you know what? That’s pathetic.”

The air seemed to crack between us. My fists curled at my sides, and every nerve screamed to hit him.

Instead, I shoved past him, grabbing my helmet off the bench. “Fuck you. You don’t know shit about me.”

Ethan didn’t move. He just stood there, calm, his expression unreadable. “Prove me wrong then. Show me you can actually focus on the race and not on me.”

I whirled back, jabbing a finger at his chest. “Everything I do, I do to beat you, and I will. You humiliated me, so I’ll humiliate you so bad Jessica won’t even look at you again.”

For a second, something flickered in his eyes. Amusement? Annoyance? I couldn’t tell. But he stepped even closer, closing the space between us until I could feel his breath.

“You talk too much,” he murmured.

“Back the fuck up,” I snapped, shoving at his chest. He didn’t move far. Instead, he caught my wrist quickly, so fast I didn’t expect it.

The touch jolted through me. His hand was hot, holding mine in place like he had every right. My chest tightened, and my breath stuttered.

For one insane second, the world seemed to stop. All I could think about was how close he was and how his grip steadied me.

“What the fuck,” I hissed, yanking my hand free. My heart hammered too hard and too loud. I backed away like I’d been burned. “Don’t touch me.”

Ethan’s eyes lingered on me, like he was searching for something. His smirk returned, softer but still dangerous. “You flinched.”

“I did not.”

“You did, Ryan.” He chuckled. “Don’t tell me you’re scared.”

“Scared?” I barked a laugh that came out shaky. Even I didn’t believe it. “Of you? Don’t flatter yourself, Ethan. I just don’t want your filthy hands on me.”

“Sure,” he said, dragging the word out like he didn’t believe me.

I turned away, grabbing my jacket—anything to stop him from looking at me like that. “Get the fuck out of our garage.”

Ethan didn’t argue. That wasn’t normal. He usually lingered around talking to Champ. Maybe it was because Champ wasn’t around today. He just walked backward toward the door, his eyes still locked on mine. “See you on the track, princess.”

“Don’t call me that. It’s annoying.” I heard him chuckle before he shut the door behind him. I sagged against the workbench, my hands shaking.

I told myself it was anger. Just anger. No one had ever held my arm like that except Champ.

But the ghost of his hand on my wrist wouldn’t leave. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t shake it. “Fuck,” I muttered, slamming my fist against the bench. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

I was losing my mind already, and if Champ heard about this, I was doomed.