Total pages in book: 215
Estimated words: 199344 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 997(@200wpm)___ 797(@250wpm)___ 664(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 199344 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 997(@200wpm)___ 797(@250wpm)___ 664(@300wpm)
My heart hammers erratically in my chest, and I take a shaky breath before making a run for it. I scramble over to Noah’s car, hating how my head bobs over the top of the stupid thing. But damn, it looks nice up close and personal.
Hastily digging into my pocket, I pull out the keys and quickly dive into the driver’s seat. Then as I close the door behind me, I spare another glance at the field to find him still running drills with his teammates, none the wiser. But the second I turn the key in the ignition, he’s gonna know. The whole fucking team will, and when that inevitably happens, I’m gonna have to get my ass out of here quickly.
Under the cover of the dark tinted windows, I take a second to glance around the Camaro, making sure everything is where it’s supposed to be. I grab the seat belt and quickly fasten it into place before reaching under the seat and pulling the lever to drag it as far forward as it will go.
After fixing the mirrors, I let out a shaky breath before taking the key and inserting it into the ignition. My whole body sweats, my nerves running rampant and almost convincing me to bail. But I’ve come this far, and while this is definitely for my own benefit, it’s also for Noah’s. I need him to come back to me, to give me a chance to get close to him, and if grand theft auto is how I’m going to do that, then that’s exactly what I’m going to do.
A wave of determination comes over me, and as I grip the key tighter between my fingers, I glance up at the field, waiting until Noah is in prime position. After all, if I’m doing this, then I want to make sure I can see his face at the exact moment he realizes I’m stealing his car. I want to commit his rage to memory and spend the rest of my life reveling in it, and if I happen to see a little bit of shock and disbelief in his eyes, then I’ll add it to my list of growing bonuses.
Noah makes his way back up the field, and I watch as he raises his gaze to my Range Rover again. Realizing he hasn’t got the faintest clue what’s about to happen, I grin to myself. His brows furrow, probably wondering why the hell I’m still here. When he reaches the very top of the field and goes to turn back around, a wicked smile tears across my face, and with a quick twist of my wrist, the Camaro’s engine roars to life, rumbling through the school.
Fuck yeah. This is better than I could have ever dreamed.
Noah’s head whips up mere milliseconds before the rest of his team takes notice, and my grin only widens when I read the “OH FUCK NO,” on his lips. He breaks into a sprint toward the parking lot, jumping the chain link fence with ease, but I put the Camaro in reverse and hit the gas. The tires screech as I spin the wheel, and I’m thankful that the rest of the parking lot is mostly deserted apart from a few cars belonging to Noah’s teammates.
Hitting the automatic button for the passenger’s side window, I wait the few seconds it takes for it to lower all the way down while pressing my foot on the clutch and putting the car back into gear, never more grateful my father insisted I learn to drive a stick shift. Then as Noah barrels toward me, his ferocious gaze locked on mine, I hold my hand up, my middle finger flying high as I hit the gas again, peeling out of the parking lot.
The second all four tires are off school property, I hit him with the final blow and show him exactly what I can do. Bringing the Camaro to a stop, I watch Noah as I press the clutch. He shakes his head as if reading me perfectly, and with that, I hit the gas, the very same way Aunt Maya taught me, and I revel in the sweet sound of tires squealing against asphalt as I show him the most stunning burnout I’ve ever performed.
Noah’s mouth drops, and I don’t hang around to hear what he has to say about it before adjusting my hold over the pedal and shooting down the street. A giddy laugh tears from deep in my chest.
Checkmate, Noah Ryan. Check-fucking-mate.
With the engine purring so beautifully beneath me, I put the other window down before reaching over and silencing the angry calls coming from a number that hasn’t graced my phone in a long time. After all this time, it’s nice to see that my number is still programmed in his phone.