Page 6 of Broken Track
I swallow hard, trying to push the bitterness down. “Fine, the rear suspension is jacked,” I say through gritted teeth. “But I’m not doing this for you.”
Xavier doesn’t reply right away. Instead, he moves to the back of the car, his hands already working on the suspension with a focus I can’t help but respect. The tension between us hangs heavy in the air, but he’s not pushing me. He’s just doing what he does best, getting things done.
It takes only a few minutes, but when Xavier steps back, he gives me a look. “You should be good now,” he says, his voice quiet yet full of certainty. “But you’ve got to trust your car. Trust yourself.”
I glance at him, feeling a mix of emotions. Gratitude, anger, and something deeper, something I don’t want to name. “Thanks,” I mutter, but the words feel like a lie.
Before I can say anything else, the race begins. I slip on my helmet, blocking out the rest of the world, but that’s when I feel it. The tightness in my chest that’s been there all night. This isn’t just about the race. It’s about us. And I don’t know how to fix it.
As the green flag drops, I slam my foot down on the accelerator, and my car surges forward with a roar. But in the back of my mind, I know the real race has nothing to do with the track. It’s about deciding whether I’m ready to let Xavier in.
We’re neck and neck for the first few laps, but I can feel the tension in the way I’m handling the car. The suspension stillfeels off, and I can’t shake the nagging feeling that something’s still wrong.
Just as we round the corner, I hear it. A strange grinding from the rear tire. The car jerks, and my heart skips a beat. I try to fight the panic rising in my chest, but the car isn’t responding as it should.
“Shit,” I mutter under my breath, my hands tightening on the wheel as I push the car harder, trying to finish the lap. But I know I can’t keep this up much longer.
I glance at Xavier’s car, just ahead of me. He’s watching me in his rearview mirror, and in this moment, I know he’s aware of the problem. He’s not just racing to win; he’s racing to save me.
The next lap feels like an eternity. I’m not sure I can finish, but Xavier is right there, staying with me. I can’t help it. I speed up, ignoring the pain in my hands and the grind of the tires, and focus on the track ahead.
Then the rear tire shakes. The car swerves, and for a second I think I’m done for. Somehow, I regain control and pull it back onto the track, my pulse hammering in my ears.
I can hear Xavier on the radio. “You’re not giving up, are you?” he asks, his voice edged with determination.
“I’m not giving up,” I say, my voice hoarse. “But I’m not doing this alone.”
His response is immediate. “Let’s finish this together.”
With that, I slam the pedal to the floor. For the first time in a long time, I feel like I’m not just racing for myself. I’m racing for us.
We cross the finish line together, side by side, but the real victory, the one I’m not ready to admit yet, is that we’ve made it through, together.
As we roll into the pits, I know something’s about to change. Whatever happens next will force us to confront the truth. And I don’t know if I’m ready for that.
Chapter Four
Xavier
It’s Friday afternoon, and I’m in my usual lunch spot, staring out the window, waiting for the bell to ring. The week has dragged on, a long, slow march to the weekend. My mind keeps drifting to Izzy, of course. It’s impossible not to, especially after last weekend’s race. I can still feel the way we pushed through that moment together, the adrenaline, the sense that maybe, just maybe, we’re starting to figure this out.
But when I walked into school on Monday morning, she avoided me again. Something is happening to her, and I don’t know what. It’s driving me crazy.
I don’t know why it stings this time. I mean, yeah, it always hurts a little, but there’s something different now. A shift. I’d let myself believe that after the race, things would change between us. She would finally see I’m not going anywhere. But every time I see her, it’s like she’s got this invisible wall between us, and I’m the one banging on it.
I glance across the cafeteria. There she is, sitting with Mia at their usual table. Izzy’s blonde hair falls just the way I like it, messy but perfect. Even from across the room, I can see her body is tense, as if bracing for something. Maybe for me. Her eyes flash toward me, and I catch that split second before she looksaway. This time, there’s something different about it. It’s almost like she’s not just avoiding me but everything.
Her shoulders are stiff, arms crossed loosely in front of her. There’s a subtle distance in the way she sits, not fully engaged in whatever Mia’s talking about, yet not completely closed off either. They walk past me before the bell rings, and I catch her biting her lip, a quick, nervous tic she’s always had when she’s deep in thought. I wonder what’s going on behind those eyes.
I know I’m reading too much into it, but it’s hard not to. This isn’t just about ignoring me anymore. Something’s wrong, and it’s bigger than her avoiding me. I can feel it.
I’m torn between going over there, confronting her, and just letting it be. I don’t want to make things worse, but I’m also sick of the games. She wants to pretend we’re still two people who don’t know each other well enough to care, but I know better. I’ve seen what she’s capable of, and I know she’s not this cold.
The bell rings, and I grab my bag. The noise of the school is almost deafening as students scramble for their next class. I could go to my locker first, but instead I head straight for the hallway where I know Izzy’s locker is.
It’s always been an unwritten rule. I walk her to class, we talk, and then I get distracted by how much I like being near her. But this week, she’s barely said a word to me.
I round the corner, and there she is. She’s leaning against her locker, flipping through a textbook. She doesn’t look up when I stop a few steps away.
