I do end up saying yes to Jake's offer, for the record.

But there was no way I was telling my mother where I was going. She's an Asian parent – it's common knowledge that they're the strictest kind. So instead of outrightly lying, I simply said I'd made a new friend, and he wanted to go out for a bit. Mum, surprisingly, was way too excited about the whole thing.

"A new friend?" My mother wouldn't stop her sudden overjoy. I wanted to bury myself in a deep, deep hole to stop the humiliation. "Oh, Carey, this is so nice!"

Mum was grinning like a kid at a candy store, her face beaming. I felt only slightly bad for her, but not enough to spare the truth of the matter. If she dare found out the real reason Jake and Nash came to pick me up, I would sure as hell never see the light of day again. And neither would they.

There's a sharp knock on the door, bringing us back to our senses in an instant.

I quickly glance at my mother. "Please don't embarrass me, Mum."

She waves it off. "When have I ever–"

I don't reply to that, strolling across the lounge to open the door. I hold the doorknob in my grasp, a heavy sigh escaping my lips. This was it. I stare at the oak wood, finding some determination as I struggle to ease my nerves. When I finally muster up enough courage to pull the door open, Nash Cooper greets me with an impassive look.

His dark eyes scan me, glinting a fierce black in the light as I quietly usher him in. They're fathomlessly deep, holding a steady gaze that pierces the soul, shattering it in an instant. Nash's mere eyes were not for the weak at heart – one glance was daunting enough.

"Nash, hey," I breathe out, rubbing my arm from a slight shiver.

"Carey," he tips his head, gaze roving over my shoulder. "Good evening, Ms Hudson."

"Hello, Nash," my mother smiles genuinely at the boy's suddenly amiable behaviour. "I thought you were coming with a friend?"

I turn back to the boy with a frown. "Yeah, what happened to Jake?"

When I messaged him earlier that I'd come to watch the race, Nash offered to pick me up, knowing I didn't have a car. The gesture melted all my previous thoughts of him being too mean. It was terrible, really. Resentment was a much easier feeling, than whatever else I felt in Nash's presence.

Nash jabs a thumb over his shoulder. "He's gone to pick up his girlfriend, they'll meet us at the venue."

"Clarissa?" I clarify. Did she know about this street racing?

"Yeah. We better get going now," Nash announces, heading to the door. "It was lovely meeting you, Ms Hudson."

"You as well, sweetie," my mum calls out. "Have a good time, Carey!"

I shut the door with a sigh, my mum's bubbly nature embarrassing me endlessly. I turn to Nash, crossing my arms over my chest as I stand on the porch, unmoving.

"We need to leave –" he stops midsentence at my expression. "What now?"

"You can be so nice when you want to, so why don't you?"

Plus, he had a really gorgeous smile. It brightens up his whole face and makes him look so much more attractive than he already is.

Nash throws me a flat look. "I'm pretty sure I don't know what you're talking about."

"Back in the house," I gesture, as he starts walking to his vehicle. In two quick jogs, I catch up to him, keeping pace. "You were so polite to my Mum, why aren't you more like that at school?"

He raises a brow and opens the door of his car. "Would you prefer I spoke to your mother the way I do at school?"

"No," I say. "That's not what I–"

Nash cuts me off when he slams the door of the front seat. "Please get in the car Carey, else we'll be late."

Andddd the earlier feelings are back. Fuck him.

I huff out a breath before following his orders.

"Where is this circuit?" I ask Nash, not familiar with the street he drove us to.

He glances at me for a split second. "If I told you, I'd have to kill you."

I keep quiet after that, unsure if he spoke the truth, or he was jesting. I bounce my foot on the floor, feeling out of place, all of a sudden. What if this was a bad idea? Scratch that – this was a bad idea. What if something went wrong?

I shake myself, clearing my dark thoughts. There was no point in fretting over the inevitable. I subtly glance at Nash instead, his keen eyes focused on the road, driving with relaxed ease. It seems so natural to him.

He's dressed head to toe in black, a leather jacket pulled over his shirt only adds to his conspicuous appearance. Maybe I wore the wrong choice of clothes to this event. A plaid blue and black t-shirt with a tank top beneath and fitted jeans with my standard Converse. I pulled a grey Jersey over the whole outfit ensemble because winter nights were fucking cold.

"We're here," Nash proclaims, switching off the engine. He pulls open the door, only to glance back. "Carey, I'm warning you, do not leave me and do not go anywhere alone. Did you get that? This place isn't safe."

"I'm not an idiot," I say placidly. I understand his hesitance, but truly, I know I should keep my guard up. "I'll follow you, okay? And I promise not to leave your sight. So can we go now?"

He studies me for a second as if I'm the one who's so difficult to read and then nods.

"This way," satisfied with my response, Nash leads me in the right direction.

We pass by a large crowd gathered around, cheering on a race in action. The sounds of tyres grinding against tar and the roar of engines fill my ears, along with the yells of the audience flocking the street. I see only smoke as racers screech passed at unfathomable speeds, leaving dust in their stride. The cheers rise and fall, in a discordant time, a disharmony of clattering noise.

Nash glances around, observing his surroundings and probably looking for Jake. By the look in his eyes, the way they glint and glimmer darkly, I know he's sucked in every inch of the field we were situated on. It's something very noticeable about Nash – he's very observant in his whereabouts. He knows how to scour an area and give an accurate deduction of what's what.

"Jake is running late," Nash pulls up the sleeve of his hoodie to check his watch. "Clarissa must have him held back."

I let out a cough at the double meaning.

Nash eyes me sharply. "What?"

"Nothing."

He rolls his eyes, his gaze travelling back to the small group gathered next to the street. Music blasts from the boot of one of the souped-up cars, lights folding bright as a disco ball, and people raise their voices in drunken song. The glisten of alcohol bottles catches the moonlight, the glass reflecting silver like daggers.

The race that had been going on comes to an end seconds after we'd arrived. I watch as the drivers climbed out, pulling out their helmets and grabbing drinks to refuel their bodies. Now they were chatting to their friends or discussing tactics with their crew.

I didn't recognise any of them, not the dark-skinned man with thick curls nor the tall, lanky one with menacing tattoos covering both his arms. Most of the drivers are in their twenties, with the exception of the boy next to me. Wicked smiles, dark gazes and holding beer bottles, the drivers throwing their arms around scantily class women who look just as dangerous with their piercings and heels.

Honestly, Jake and Nash might be the youngest guys present.

"What now?" I turn to Nash, appreciating the way the shadows accentuate his sharp jaw and pale skin. His leather jacket is snug across his broad shoulders, and his hair looks glossier than ever. He could be a romanticised version of the Grim Reaper.

"I'm waiting for some guys now, but I need to wait for Jake. He needs to take the car so I can go."

I shrug at his statement, not finding the problem. "You go ahead, I'll wait here for Jake to come" "Alone?" Nash raises a brow, glancing meaningfully at the flocks of people.

A particularly nasty-looking group of College looking girls were sneering in my direction. I turn away, fixing my gaze somewhere else. I wonder what their problem was?

"What's wrong with that?" I put my hands on my hips sassily. "You think I can't handle myself?"

"No, that's not it –" Nash runs a hand through his hair in exasperation, silky black locks tangling between his fingers.

"Then what is it?"

"Look, Carey," he puts his hands on my shoulders, bending his head so that we're on eye level.

Despite my thick jersey, I can feel the warmth of his palms on my skin. His eyes train on my, dark orbs glinting like onyx – glimmering gemstones made from the deepest pits of the night sky. His expression is entirely sombre, from the slightest pinch of his eyebrows to the look in his eyes.

"Nothing can happen to you, I can't be responsible for something going wrong," Nash says at last, his voice low, seriousness washing over his features. "You can wait here if you want but promise me, you'll stay put. And if anyone approaches you –"

"I'll punch their noses," I interrupt him.

His lips quirk, and he lets his hands fall away, the heat evaporating with that gesture.

"All right. But at least tell me you can pack a proper punch."

I grin. "Cooper, I watched every Karate Kid movie. I know how to throw a punch."

Thumb out of the fist, middle two knuckles forward. I knew how it worked.

"Okay, fine," he nods, more to himself than me. "I won't be long. Scream if you need to, and I'll be there in an instant."

I nod, and he leaves. My heart gives a startling leap as I watch his retreating figure approaching one of the small groups.

I glance around, hugging my jacket closer to my body as another race begins, cars streaming by at the speed of light. They pass in a blur of colours, coming dangerously close to the side, makeshift barriers that had been erected. My eyes can't catch sight of anything except a flash of tyres screeching against the pavement as they drift and turn and spin with such ... such expertise.

Honestly, this kind of street sport actually has its own kind of beauty.