Junkie: A Driven World Novel (The Driven World)

by J. D. Hollyfield

  “Wow, so you race?”

  I didn’t mean to spill so much about myself. Cash is staring at me, trying to dissect everything I just said, and it makes me uncomfortable. I bring my focus back out to the ocean, turning the spotlight on him. “So, what about you? When did you become a hotshot racer?”

  His low sexy chuckle rumbles inside his chest until the warm sound of his full laughter bursts from his full lips. I focus back on him, and his crooked smile does funny things to me. Just like the waves crashing, a thunderous sound echoes inside my head, telling me to look away. His presence alone is causing my wires to cross, sparking this need to stay yet also this very real urge to run. I should get up and leave so he doesn’t find out who I really am. Walk away, knowing in this moment he sees good in me. Because if I fall down this trap of hope, the truth will surface. The thing is I’ve never been one to make the right choice. And so I choose to play a game I know, understanding that if I don’t leave soon, I’m going to lose.

  A smile spreads across my face and I release my own soft giggle. “What? Is that not what they call you? Full-of-it Racer? Speedster Creepster?” I accidently snort at the last one, covering my mouth.

  He tosses my napkin back at my face, and it only causes me to laugh harder. “Laugh it up, princess. But for your information, all those names are pretty accurate, minus the creepster—and I’m not letting you leave until I’ve proven I’m not a damn creep.” There’s amusement in his voice.

  Darla returns with two giant plates filled with burgers and fries, a busboy behind her, holding two enormous shakes. My mouth starts to water all over again at the smell. It takes everything in me not to jump up and shove some food in my mouth before she even sets it down. “All right, you two. Enjoy. If you need anything, let me know.”

  “Thanks, Darla,” Cash says. He nudges his chin at me. “You first. If you don’t like it, we can go—”

  “Shhh…this burger is calling my name.” I take the juicy goodness in my hands, which is difficult since it’s gigantic. Bringing it to my mouth, I savor the mixture of smells before opening wide and taking a bite. “Ohhh yeah,” I moan, chewing the flawlessness of the perfect bite. Swallowing, I take down another and another, moaning each time.

  “If you don’t stop moaning, we’re going to have to leave.”

  “What?” I put down my half-eaten burger and indulge in a mouthful of fries. Jesus, even these are like heaven.

  “The moaning. You’re giving every guy in here a boner at the way you’re lusting over that piece of meat.”

  I pull away, searching the restaurant. “There are no other guys in here.”

  “Okay, so only one. Seriously, it’s getting uncomfortable in here.” It takes me a minute to catch on. When I do, a blast of color skates across my cheeks.

  “Oh my god, I’m so—”

  “Don’t apologize. Please. I should probably be the one to apologize. It’s not every day someone eating a cheeseburger wakes up the big guy.”

  Oh my god we’re talking about his—

  “And now I will allow you to officially consider me a creep. Geesh, have I always been a creep and never realized it?” he asks, more musing to himself. It eases some of my own embarrassment. “I swear, I’m not normally like this. Please accept my apology and allow me to blame it on a full moon.”

  I snicker, wiping a little piece of salt from the French fry off my lip. “There’s not a full moon outside, though.”

  “I said ‘a full moon’—as in the next one. We will blame it on that one.”

  Okay. Maybe he’s not a creep. Just quirky. My smile is playful as I shove a fry in my mouth. “Okay, tell me. How old were you when you realized you wanted to become a famous racer?”

  “When I was seven. My older brother was into racing, and you know how that story goes; I wanted to be just like him. So, I followed him in his career, and when an opportunity opened up, I took it. What does Henry think of you now? He still teaching you the ways?”

  Nice quick change of topic. And a shitty one. “I’m not sure.”

  “Oh, why? Is he…?”

  “Oh, no. He’s alive. Well…as far as I know. He showed me the ropes for the two years I was with them. Same old song and dance. Foster mommy didn’t approve of all the time and attention Henry gave me. Jealousy led to spite, and before I knew it, they weren’t able to care for me any longer, and I went back into the system.” Why do I keep confessing more truths to him? I hate the pity that shines back at me and the frown that replaced his previous easy going smile even more.

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t—”

  “You don’t know me or anything about me. You have no reason to apologize.”

  “But I want to get to know you.” He reaches across the table to cover my hand in his. His bold move surprises me, and I jerk away. “Shit, sorry—”

  “Jeez, do you apologize to everyone else this much?”

  “Absolutely not. And I take the last one back.”

  My brows go up. “You take it back?”

  “Damn straight I do. You’re right, I need to stop apologizing. I also have this twitching problem and I didn’t mean to grab your hand. It’s a symptom of my…problem.”

  Now I’m the one with the quirky grin. “You have a symptom that causes you to grab people’s hands?”

  “It’s quite rare. I’d rather not talk about it.”

  “Talk about what?” Darla interrupts. “Something wrong with the food?” Cash’s expression morphs into “oh shit” as Darla regards us both, waiting for an answer.

  “Cash says he has a—”

  “Has a taste for your special onion rings.”

  Darla smiles wide, and there’s a skip to her step as she turns and disappears into the kitchen. I can’t hold in my laughter as I open my mouth, but he throws his finger out, signaling me to be quiet. I hold my comment along with my breath until I can’t any longer and burst out laughing. “Don’t say a word,” he grumbles, shoving fries in his mouth. I attempt another comment, and his finger goes back up. “Zip it!”

  “I wasn’t going to say anything.” His pout face is super cute. His lips are perched downward into a crescent moon. Even pretending to sulk, he’s handsome. His eyes may be pretending to scowl, but they still manage to do weird things to me. The deepness of the different greens reel me in, causing me to get lost in the luscious forest of all things Cash Huntington.

  “Stop looking at me like that.”

  I pull out of my trance. “Like what?” Shoot, am I being the creepy one now?

  “Like I’m as good as your burger. It’s not helping my situation.” Oh, give me a break. I shake my head, laughter dripping from my lips.

  “Whatever you say.”

  “Good! So…moving on.” He stops to wipe his hands over his mouth, as if wiping away the stress and pressure with it. “How about we make a deal? While you’re here—”

  “Which won’t be long,” I interject.

  “Fine. Me either. I’ve got the Monterey Grand Prix in a few weeks, which I plan on winning, and then I’m off on my world tour.” I do plan on being gone soon, but to hear he’ll also be leaving kind of sucks. Not that I thought about possibly staying… “So, while we’re both here, I say we make a pact.”

  “A pact,” I say more as a question.

  “Yes. A pact. While we’re both around, we help each other out. I’ll be your mentor on the track, teach you anything you don’t already know, and in return, you get to know me and see I’m not this weirdo creep I’ve made myself out to be.”

  I stare at him quizzically, wondering what his motive is—why he cares so much about what I—a nobody—think of him. He has it all. A booming career. Talent. Looks that will bring any girl to her knees—literally and probably figuratively. But his quirky charm does have me wanting to stick around and take his pact, no matter how silly it sounds. Not to mention the opportunity to spend more time on the track. The thought of getting inside a real racecar, possibly test driving one…my skin pr
ickles with excitement. “Okay, fine. I’ll accept your silly pact, but under one condition.” His brow perks up, curiosity glimmering in his eyes. “I get to race.”

  His eyes widen, taken back by my request. “You wanna race?”

  “Yes. A real race. I want to race your car around the track.”

  “You wanna be a racer?”

  “I want to race.”

  He considers my demands for a bit, almost making me believe he’s going to turn me down.

  “Fine, you’ve got a deal. But under my rules. I teach you first. Then you race.”

  “Deal.”

  Luna

  For the first time since I arrived here, I shoot out of bed—and it has nothing to do with a nightmare. Surprisingly, I made it through the whole night without the images of blood and death lingering in my subconscious. Today, I have a date…well, not a date, but a date. With Cash. Yesterday, over the best burgers I’ve ever had, I agreed to a pact. It was silly. And to be honest, a bit ridiculous. But for some reason I found myself agreeing to it. A pact to get to know him better, and in return he lets me race.

  I shouldn’t have said yes. I don’t plan on being here longer than a few more days max. What he’s trying to prove to me shouldn’t matter. I shouldn’t matter. But instead of turning him down, I accepted his offer. The smile that cracked along his face was better than the burger I just devoured. Even better than the double chocolate milkshake Darla made. And after consuming a slice of apple pie with a mound of whip cream, I decided that nothing that felt this good could be wrong.

  But everything is wrong. There’s still no race.

  I agreed to his pact, not knowing if I would even see him after we left Darla’s. As much as I wanted to appease him, I needed to stay on track with my plan. I wanted in that car. On that track. But it wasn’t worth my life. It’s been almost a week since the crash, and the underground race chatter haa been silent. The dark web isn’t feeding me any information I need, and the more time that passes, the more I’m at risk.

  I fall back onto the plush mattress, a sigh of defeat rolling off my tongue. “What am I doing?” I ask myself, in need of understanding. Getting distracted by a handsome, funny, talented racecar driver. My chest actually hurts from laughing so much at lunch. I listened to him tell me stories of when he first started racing. All his successes and failures. After, he dropped me off back at The House and I practically skipped inside like a schoolgirl after her first date. But it wasn’t a date. It was a distraction.

  I slam my closed fists against the bed in frustration. Why aren’t there any races? I laid in bed almost half the night searching, working every angle on the dark web for any buzz. And nothing. It was quiet. Too quiet. I fought myself not to reach out to Jade. I couldn’t risk another life. I need to knock off this silly crush… or whatever it is with Cash and do what I do best: find a car. The race will follow.

  Dismissing my plans, I get up and shower. What was I thinking even agreeing to this childish pact? I need to get out there and study the business section of Santa Monica—figure out where the rich go. I round the corner, hoping to avoid Jackson, and run into a wall that wasn’t here before—

  “Whoa, in a hurry?” Strong hands wrap around my waist. Warmth seeps into my skin. My eyes lift up past the solid chest hidden behind his shirt and the fresh scent of soap. There is a sudden upbeat of rhythm in my chest, and I’m not sure if it’s coming from me or him. Time seems to slow as my focus travels up past his strong jawline, his full lips and playful smile, lingering at the edges, and finally up to those eyes. Those eyes that are locking me in place before I realize that it’s my heart beating so unsteadily.

  “Wh—What are you doing here?” My voice is weak. His grip eases up, but it doesn’t erase the heat building under his hold.

  “Looking for you. You’re in such a hurry, I would say you’re either really excited for our day or you’re ditching me and leaving.” I try to mask the guilt, but it’s too prominent across my face.

  “I was just—”

  “Don’t worry. I forgive you. But a pact’s a pact. And we have a busy morning. Let’s get to it.”

  “Wait, what?” He releases me, grabbing my hand and tugging me out the door. Jackson stares at us with interest, and Cash waves us off as we step outside into the bright sun. “Where are we going? Don’t you have to race? I have stuff I need to do at the speedway.” As if I’d planned on going there.

  “No worries. I pushed off testing ’til this afternoon.” He walks us down to the street to where his car is parked.

  “Why?”

  He opens the passenger side door and offers me his cheeky smile. “You wanna race, then you have to learn the essentials before I let you.”

  “Cash, I already know how to—” I cut myself off, my loose lips almost confessing too much.

  “Watching it on TV is not the same. Now, get in. We’re on a schedule.”

  He holds my gaze until I can no longer handle those penetrating eyes and do as he asks. He shuts my door, jogs around the car, and climbs in, the purr of the engine coming to life as he pulls out onto the road. We’re both quiet until the silence gets the best of me.

  “Okay, where are we going?”

  “To teach you lesson number one of racing.” He twists his head, taking his eyes off the road, and smiles at me, then returns them back to the road.

  “This really is unnecessary.”

  “You wanna race? You race under my rules, and my rules are you get the proper lessons before you get behind that wheel.”

  Whatever. If he wants to waste his time teaching me something I already know, so be it. I gaze out the window, getting lost in the scenery. It’s so much different than boring Ohio. I find myself rolling down the window to feel the warm breeze against my face.

  “So, Coach, what does today’s lesson consist of?” I peer back at him. The mischievous grin he wears screams danger for me. You’re not sticking around. Don’t get wrapped up in this.

  “I like that. Coach. Suits me.” He laughs, and I slap his shoulder. “Okay, okay, so today’s lesson is about basic dynamics.” He wiggles his brows at me, and I wonder if he’s referring to us or racing. Knock it off, Luna! Since when did I become this lovesick girl who fawns over boys? My focus, my goals, have never been about anyone but myself. If life has taught me anything, it’s that I’m the only person I can depend on. That’s always left me jaded and turned off when it comes to others. “Hey, where’d you go there?”

  “Huh?”

  “That smile of yours…it disappeared for a second.”

  My mask slips, exposing my frustration at myself for allowing him to see too much. But the damage is already done. I take in a deep breath and stare back out the window. “Nowhere…it’s just…this is a waste of time.”

  There’s a small window of silence before he speaks. “Growing up, I idolized my older brother. I wanted to follow in every single footstep he took. I was eager. Too eager, actually. I wanted the trophy before putting in the time. I was cocky, which I guess didn’t go away, but… I just wanted to get in that car and race. I’d been watching every race, studied every play, the terminology. By the time I was even able to get my license, I could take apart and put back together a whole engine blindfolded.”

  This gets my attention. I bite, adjusting in my seat to face him. “Ah, there are those eyes. So, as I was saying, I was a hotshot who claimed to know it all. My brother claimed otherwise. He told me I wasn’t getting onto that track before I had real training. I had to go through the proper channels, and only then would he allow his agency to pitch me.”

  “What did you do?” I ask.

  “He sent me up to Sonoma to racing school. Surprisingly, there was a shit ton I didn’t know. Turns out, cockiness doesn’t teach all. Acceleration, threshold breaking, downshifting techniques—it’s important to learn the dynamics before taking a car out on the course. It’s not just physical. It’s mental too. If I run into a technical issue out there, I need to know
how to handle the car and stay on course. Driver sensitivity’s an important thing. Teaches you to be one with your car before you take her out.” I can’t help but smirk. “Basically, I needed to learn there was more to racing than just racing.”

  “And did it help?”

  “Fuck yeah. I did months of technique training. Learned about control, which is number one in importance when you’re going a hundred and forty miles an hour. When I mastered that, I went on to do some training in non-ideal conditions. Lots of high-speed aerodynamic exercises. Mostly simulated since the goal was to teach me how to race in not so perfect track conditions—slick tracks, stripping tires, shit like that.”

  I hang on his every word, imagining how it would have been like, felt like to have been granted the proper channels when learning how to race. The real way. The first time I got into a car, it was more of a theft and getaway experience. It wasn’t my proudest moment, but I was a troubled teen in need of rebellion. Jade had just taught me how to hotwire a car, but I went a step further, and decided on a little joy ride. Sadly, while on our drive, I blew a red light, swerved to avoid hitting a pedestrian, and about wrapped us around a pole.

  “So…what, are we going to race camp or something?”

  “That we are.” Without realizing it, we’ve parked. I scan the large sign ahead.

  “You’re kidding me.”

  I hate what his smile does to me. “Nope. Let’s go.” He shuts the car off and climbs out before I can put up a fight. He jogs around, opens my door, and reaches in to unclick my seatbelt since I’m still frozen in my seat. “Let’s go, princess. Day’s a wasting.”