Page 25 of Speed Crush
My cheeks flame and I pretend to ignore him.
“Tomorrow snacks it is,” I say, heading for the towel rack.
Then louder—boss-mode engaged—“Speaking of food, it’s lunchtime, isn’t it? Go! Eat! Report back here in an hour, guys!”
That gets them moving.
“Finally!”
“Did someone say pizza?!”
“Let’s go—I’m starving!”
They take off in a clamor of laughter and helmet hair, racing each other toward the cafeteria like this was the warm-up and lunch is the main event.
But even as their voices fade down the hallway, I can feel it.
Noah’s eyes.
Still on me.
And he’s the one chasing now.
I’m bent over the side of my kart, wiping down the steering column when his shadow hits the pavement beside me.
“You oversteered into Turn 3.”
I glance up.
Noah’s standing close. Too close. That cocky tilt to his mouth is back, but his eyes are sharper now. Like he’s replayed every second of our race in his head.
“I don’t oversteer,” I mutter, going back to my rag.
“You do,” he says smoothly. “It’s cute.”
I freeze mid-wipe. “Did you just call my corneringcute?”
He shrugs, all faux innocence. “I’m just saying... if you want to shave half a second, you’ve got to let the kart do the work.”
“Thanks, Coach.”
“Want me to show you?”
I look up. His gaze is steady. A little challenge in it. A little something else.
“I’m serious,” he says. “One lap. I’ll ride with you. Just show you how I’d take the lines.”
I open my mouth to tell him no.
And the next second, I’m in the air.
“Hey—!”
Heliftsme. Just picks me up like I’m nothing.
Strong arms under my thighs and back, my stomach pressed to his chest, my brain completely short-circuiting.
“Noah!”
