We’re perfectly crazy over our passion
We be screaming go

"Wait, what?" He sputtered, looking caught off guard. "If I win?"

I grinned, allowing a part of myself to rejoice despite my initial resistance to the idea. Corvettes were illegal, alright then. I still wanted to ride in one, even if I wasn't the one driving.

"Yup." I almost felt like an evil genius, because he definitely had not expected me to come up with something like that, judging by the look on his face. "You started this."

He still looked pretty horrified by my suggestion, which led me to believe that he was—one, a man of his word, and two, the usual winner of the race. "Why would you bet on something like that?"

"What was I supposed to say, then?" I raised my eyebrows, amused. "How many cars you have?"

"But..." A frustrated look crossed his face, but he shook his head. "Fine. Fine."

I laughed. "Something tells me you're going to win."

Eyes narrowed, he stepped forward, threatening with his every movement. "Something tells me I'm not making any more bets with you."

"You'll learn." I smiled. "Come on, then, red, show me some of that temper behind the wheel." I gestured to the car. "The race is going to start—I can see the flagger."

A muscle jumped in his clenched jaw, and he looked dangerously like he was going to drop kick me in the face. But then he sighed, and looked away. "Get away." His fingers reached into the pocket of his jeans to pull out two—bobby pins? "You can watch from over there." He jerked his chin in the direction.

I turned to look at the big screens, which were currently blank. "They have some sophisticated techie shit. all for a street race?"

"It might be just a street race for you," When I looked at him, his fingers were insterting the gold pins into one side of his hair—I guess he needed to keep the fabulous hair away from his face. "But it's so much more for so many."

"Money?" I smiled dryly. "Power, fame, what else? Drugs?"

"Sex." He confirmed, sounding a bit bored as he rolled his eyes. "A story."

My eyes studied his face carefully, lips pursed slightly in concentration, the perfect bone structure of his face. Gosh, he really was beautiful. "What's it to you?"

His eyes glanced sharply to mine, then flickered away. "Forget it." He spoke gruffly, and then pulled open the car's door and slipped inside.

Stepping back, I let my eyes avert to the car's gleaming exterior again, marvelling at the bright black against red. And I had thought arctic white was good—however rude he may be, Archie sure had a good taste in cars and colors.

"Oh, you're here."

My neck almost creaked at the speed with which my head whipped towards the voice. A grinning Vernon was walking up to me, the friendly glitter in his eyes brighter than ever, as if he hadn't been the one to trap me here.

"The fuck do you want?" I snapped, narrowing my eyes, and he put a hand over his chest, feigning hurt. "Don't give me that look."

"What look?" He asked innocently, brushing some of his brown hair behind his ear as he smiled wider, eyes turning into teasing crescents. "You finally decided to race?"

I shook my head and turned away, watching the Stringray dawdle close to the pull before cruising into position. My heart ached at the precise movements of the car, and I sighed.

"Just watching." Answering thus, I shrugged lightly. "My first time, and also my last."

"Aw, don't be like that," He cooed and threw an unwelcome arm over my shoulder as he turned to watch the flagger walk to the centre of the aligned cars. "You'll come around after watching this, I promise."

I gave him a frigid look, but didn't shrug his arm off, instead choosing to cross my own over my chest. "Let's see."

Thankfully, he didn't bring up the Seulgi situation as we stood side-by-side in silence, watching the racers set out lengths. Suspiciously enough, Archie's went last.

"The redhead," I pitched carefully, trying to look nonchalant, "does he win often?"

Vernon looked amused. "Whenever he really wants to. Why?"

"Nothing." I cleared my throat. "Just with that car, I thought..."

He laughed—not a chuckle or a cluck, a loud, amused laugh. "Yeah, a Corvette is great for racing, but you see that Egoista?" He nodded towards the demonic-looking futuristic Lamborghini. "It has the tail for drags. But then, it's not all about the car—it's about the skill of the driver, too."

I nodded, seeing his point as the flagger lowered the banner. My heart thudded in my chest, bloodstream filling with adrenaline.

Three.

Two.

One.

I watched the cars race, moving as if they'd completely blinked out of existence. Vernon turned me around gently to point to the screen, which flickered to life, focusing on the road which was now infested with bright racecars.

"Holy shit," I whispered to myself as I watched a neon-green-spray-painted black Nissan speed ahead of the others, the driving reckless and more loose-ended than the others. A pink Lambo looped around the turns and took a wider range, almost touching the tip of the other.

"I know." He grinned. "That one's a beast." A nod ensued, and I stared in awe. "Keep watching."

As the timer clicked second to next, the cars picked up their inertia, moving more precisely but stronger. "This is amazing," I let myself speak, forgetting for a moment that I was supposed to be contemptuous.

"I know." Vernon whispered back. The Stringray hung around the back, not at the end, but just tailing the third car. As I watched, it slowly but surely picked up the pace, impossibly so, and threaded among other cars and soon lead next to the Nissan.

"What the—"

"I know," He grinned. "Sh."

The roar of the engines became louder until I turned to find the cars speeding up the street into the plaza. The Nissan still lead, but as the file neared, the Corvette streaked in last moment, coming up a good three seconds before it, pulling up into a drag at the finish line.

The crowd erupted into cheers, some yells and boos mixing in with the otherwise energetic sound. I stood rooted to the spot, breathless, as if I had been one of the racers.

"I told you." Vernon winked at me before moving through the crowd, probably going to talk to one of the racers or something.

"Woah." I swallowed hard, staring at the back of the people rushing to the line, the single syllable slipping off my tongue in a barely audible breath. "Woah."

Hesitating only for a short moment, I steeled myself and walked up behind them, pushing through hordes of yelling people to make my way to the centre of the crowd. To my surprise, I saw that not many people had engaged Archie in a conversation—most stayed at the sidelines, chatting with the other racers as the redhead leaned against his car, a thin, forced smile on his face.

His eyes flickered up to me as I emerged from the thick of the crowd, and he straightened, narrowing his eyes distastefully. Lips pursing, I smiled back, just as thinly, and tucked my hand into my front pocket.

His jaw clenched as I made my way up to him, amongst the cheeeing horde.

"Not now." He gritted out, sighing and pulling stray strands of his red hair behind his ear. "There's still time before the next race."

"I'll survive," I leaned close to him to whisper in his ear, making him jerk back. A scowl decorated his face, but I couldn't help my satisfied smirk as I moved to open the door.

"Seatbelt." The man said brusquely, the knuckles of his hand white against the steering wheel. I obeyed, watching him as he pulled on fingerless gloves, the leather worn and old as his jacket. Very specific.

As the flagger took position again, the crowd cleared out, watching from the sidelines with held breaths. I knew Vernon was there somewhere, maybe watching me with incredulous eyes, but I didn't look away, my eyes staring straight ahead.

"Don't touch anything." Red commanded, looking less than pleased to have someone else in the car. I simply grinned.

His grip tightened on the wheel, and as I stared at the woman yelling instructions, my heartbeat seemed to speed up. One. Two. Three. Time slowed down.

I could hear the rush of blood in my head, the silence in the interior, worrying about whether he could hear it, too.

Thump.

Thump.

Thump.

The flag fell, and so did his foot on the gas.

I was thrown back against the seat when the car charged forward, eyes wide and heart thumping undeterred in my chest. Within a couple seconds, the speedometer crossed eighty, ninety, hundred, and I swore loudly.

The corner of Archie's lips had lifted in a smug smirk when I looked at him, hands expertly operating the steering wheel with much more precision than I would've given him credit for. The wind whipped through my hair, the night air fresh and dewy, and adrenaline burning through my core.

I felt dizzy with the speed, the absolute wild, untamed freedom of the race making my heart race with passion. A crazed, breathy laugh bubbled up from inside me, much more limitless than I would have thought I was capable of.

"I know." Red's deep voice was laced with barely contained excitement as he pulled into another drag, the tires screeching against asphalt. "Fuck, do I know."

I yelled and whooped and laughed and sobbed, a thousand different emotions creating a blinding hypernova in my chest, threatening to break free and raze my entirety. To be honest, in that moment, I wouldn't have minded.

"Shit, Archie," I smiled, wide and large enough that the muscles of my cheeks ached, "how do you ever control yourself behind the wheel?"

His eyes met mine in the rearview mirror, his crinkling at the corners in an obvious grin, and at that moment, lightning sparked in my blood. "Taeyong." He said finally, looking away. "It's Taeyong."

"Taeyong." I repeated, closing my eyes and turning my face to the wind, tasting his name on my tongue, feeling the outline, the curves and dips on it on my lips. "Taeyong."

When I opened my eyes again, he was staring at me through the mirror, a vivid emotion swirling in his brown eyes. Somehow, he still drove well. "Y/N." I said, biting my lip, my gut feeling like it was floating. "I'm Y/N."

"Hey, Y/N," He said in a low voice, smiling softly. "You like cars?"

A pause.

"Hell yes," I smiled. "I like cars."

His red hair brushed his forehead, and suddenly, I wanted to touch it, feel its texture whether it was soft or rough; I wanted to run my hands through it. "I like cars, too."

I laughed.

And then, he went hell for leather, and we soared through the finish line.

──────

early update because why not?

work your magic, kittens. make this book blow up. this is something personal, something i want to share with as many people as possible.

thoughts on the second half? ;)

p.s. if you want to know what the interior of a stingray looks like:

love,
Manx <3