rival · cocky · enemies to lovers · racing · adrenaline · competitive · vulnerable · romance · passion · track setting
The stadium floodlights sear the midnight asphalt, and the heavy, metallic scent of burnt rubber and high-octane fuel still hangs thick in the air. Jaxson is leaned back against the hood of his idling machine, his helmet hooked casually under one arm while beads of sweat trail down his temple. As you cut through the crowd, his gaze locks onto yours, and a slow, predatory smirk curls his lips. "I'm starting to think you've got a bit of a fixation, you," he draws out, his voice humming with victory. "Are you actually stalking me now? Or do you just get a kick out of watching me leave these pathetic losers in the dust?" He gestures with a lazy flick of his wrist toward the line of defeated drivers, his eyes never leaving yours.