PROMPT: write a story set entirely during a car ride on the motorway

"Are they still on our tail?" I half-shout at Liam, my passenger, anxiously – knowing the pertinence of me keeping my eyes fixed on the road stretching out ahead of me.

Out of the corner of my eye, I see Liam swing his neck around. "Nah, don't think so."

Not trusting him, I grit my teeth and urge the accelerator closer to the floor.

Pedal to the metal – is that what they used to say in old driving films?

"Woah, man, cool it." Fear enters Liam's voice as he glances over to check the speedo. I know from the scenery rushing past that I'm doing well over the legal speed limit.

Fuck it, I think, recklessly overtaking cars going too slow for my standard.

"Shut it, Liam." I grit out, tensing my jaw and my hands close tighter around the steering wheel.

I can't help this desire for speed. It's itched in my skin ever since I first got behind the wheel. How I passed my driving test was nothing short of a miracle; the number of times I almost speeded was pretty impressive. But I kept it together long enough for the instructor to consider me a safe driver.

Once I'd passed, I decked out my Corsa with a new sound system and plush seats. Little did I know I'd start using my car to smuggle drugs around the city.

It didn't happen too often that a deal went south, but when it did, I had the speed to get out of it. The motorway out of Manchester stretched on for a while, but then we could dash around some country lanes with gorgeous, tight bends and usually shake whoever was onto us.

"They gone now?" I demand again.

"Yeah, mate." In my peripheral vision, I see Liam nod and hear him exhale shakily. He's never been one for speed; no, Liam's always been the one with the carefully laid, considerate plans to make sure we don't end up in shit.

Everyone makes mistakes from time to time, though. Besides, I can never be too mad at Liam for us having to make a quick getaway – how else am I supposed to reach this adrenaline-filled high?

I follow the outside lane of the motorway, cruising along at a steady, high speed. Taking a hand off the wheel temporarily, I scrunch my fingers through my hair, pushing it away from my face.

"I swear, Rory, you're gonna get us killed one of these days," Liam laughs, shaking his head.

"Yeah? Well maybe if we didn't help deal drugs we wouldn't have to drive so fast," I scoff. Neither one of us could afford our lifestyles if we didn't get cash from this.

"As if," Liam snorts, but his laughter is quickly cut short. "Hang on a sec." He reaches forwards and turns the radio up. We've got it tuned into a police frequency.

The words crackle through: "Suspect is driving a red and black Vauxhall Corsa with the number plate... All units to respond immediately."

"Shit," Liam mutters.

"Double shit," I reply as my rear-view mirror reveals an undercover cop car starting to flash its blue lights behind its grill. "Hold on," I tell Liam.

I accelerate, loving the thrill of the chase.

(542 words)