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, pretty and well cleaned. That was my pride unfortunately, one asshole looked down on it. I had tightened the bolts until my knuckles ached, I had even 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 fucking smirk.

That asshole’s face haunted me every second. The way he sat across from Jessica at the café like he was rubbing it in my face, what annoys me was the way she actually laughed at his bullshit jokes, the way he challenged me like it was some goddamn game.

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

The wrench slipped, clanking against the floor. I cursed loud enough to scare off the poor 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. “i wouldn't want you hurting yourself before the.....big race.”

My whole body went stiff. That voice. Yeah, it was definitely him, that smug, cocky, annoying as fuck voice.

I spun around, and there he was. He stood leaning in the doorway like he owned the place. His leather jacket fit on him, the way it has always fitted. His smug grin annoyed me and his eyes curved in 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 a gunpoint. “Relax, Ryan, I just thought I would swing by and you know 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 fly quickly." I was angry and I didn't want to show it, but this guy knew how to make me spit it out. "Are you spying on me now? Jesus fucking Christ, Ethan. Don't you like.. have somewhere else to be? Like maybe, under a hole?”

He chuckled, strolling further inside. “If I lived under a hole, you would still manage to 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 I swear my blood pressure went ten points higher.

“I don't need excuses, you will be choking on my dust.”

“Big words,” he said, standing again. “But your throttle control’s sloppy. I saw you last in the last race, you gripped it like you’re strangling the damn thing." He sighed, "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 so perfect? Or so 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 by my side and the nerves in my body screamed to hit him, or punch him.

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

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

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

For a second, something flickered in his eyes. Was it amusement? Or annoyance? I couldn’t tell. But he stepped even closer, closing the space between us until I could feel the air he was breathing.

“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 fastly unexpected.

The touch jolted through me like a wire. 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 moving, and all I could think about was how close he was and how his grip was grounding.

“What the fuck,” I hissed, yanking my hand free from gis. My heart was hammering too hard and almost too loud. I backed away like a scared kitten. “Don’t touch me.”

Ethan’s eyes lingered on me, like he was searching for something, and like he had already seen what he wanted to see. His smirk returned, but it was softer this time, but dangerous as it always looked. “You flinched.”

“I did not.”

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

“Scared?” I barked a laugh that came out shaky voice even I didn't want to believe. “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, thet wasn't normal, he would always linger around talking to champ and go when he wishes to. 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 shutting the door behind him. I sagged against the workbench, my hands shaking.

I told myself it was anger. Just anger? No one has ever held my arms like that except Champ of course.

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 of this, I was going to be doomed.