Chapter 5: Racing Past the Past

Just like that, we settled into a rhythm. It was almost easy.

Every morning at seven, I knocked on his door with breakfast, right on time. Three hours of tutoring in the morning.

The routine became our new normal. The neighbors started to recognize me, nodding as I passed by. I liked the order of it—the sense that, for once, I was steering my own story.

He ordered DoorDash for lunch, then did a marathon of practice problems all afternoon.

Bags of takeout piled up by the door, the smell of fries and pizza mixing with the sharp scent of highlighters. Jason grumbled, but he did the work.

A month later, his scores in every subject were solidly above 70.

I tallied the numbers, double-checked the charts. He’d done it. The look of pride on his face was almost worth the sleepless nights.

"Time to keep your promise, right?"

Jason lounged at the table, spinning his motorcycle key. "Let’s go do something wild first."

He flashed that grin, eyes sparkling with mischief. I braced myself for whatever came next.

He rode a tricked-out black Harley—yeah, a real Harley, not a knockoff—taking me to the base of a winding mountain road.

The engine roared as we sped out of town, the wind whipping through my hair. The city faded behind us, replaced by the scent of pine and asphalt.

Under the oaks, a dozen souped-up bikes were scattered around. A pack of trendy teens laughed and joked.

The clearing buzzed with energy—music blasting from someone’s phone, laughter echoing off the trees. The other riders eyed us, curiosity and envy mingling in their stares.

When Jason rolled up, they all revved their engines.

He nodded at a few, the king returning to his court. I clung to his jacket, nerves dancing in my stomach.

“Damn, Grant brought a girl? And she’s the valedictorian?” a guy with bleached hair whistled.

I shot him a look, but he just grinned wider, clearly enjoying the attention.

"Are you blind? Isn’t that the valedictorian from their school?"

Someone chimed in, and a few kids started filming with their phones.

I felt my cheeks flush, but I held my head high. Let them watch.

Jason ignored them and strode up to a tall guy with a ponytail.

He squared his shoulders, all swagger and confidence. The ponytailed guy looked me up and down, a smirk tugging at his lips.

"We said last time—bring someone and race."

His voice was low, challenging. Jason didn’t even blink.

Just like in the book, Jason never asked if I was willing.

He just assumed I’d go along, like always. But this time, I was ready.

The ponytailed guy looked me up and down, smirking. "Alright, but your girl looks pretty fragile. She’s gotta sign a waiver."

He held out a clipboard, pen dangling from a string. I took it, scanning the fine print.

Jason didn’t hesitate. He signed fast, then handed me the pen. "Sign it. Just trust me."

His eyes met mine, steady and serious. I hesitated for a split second, then signed.

"I’d read the fine print," the guy said, tapping the paper. "Lots of sharp turns. Guardrails are old. If you crash, the ambulance can’t get up here quick."

I don’t have anyone waiting on me. If we go out like star-crossed idiots, at least I’m with my boyfriend.

The words came out light, but there was a steel underneath. The crowd whooped, some kids whistling. Jason’s back stiffened, and I felt a strange thrill run through me.

Whistles and laughter broke out around us.

The energy spiked, everyone eager for the show. I glanced at Jason, catching a flicker of something like fear in his eyes.

In the original, I thought it but never said it.

This time, I wanted him to hear it. To know I wasn’t afraid.

Right then, I felt Jason’s back stiffen. I leaned in, pressing myself close to him.

He tensed, but didn’t pull away. I could feel his heart pounding through his jacket.

The second the race started, the Harley shot forward like a bullet.

The world blurred, the wind tearing at my hair. I held on tight, adrenaline flooding my veins.

With the wind roaring in my ears, I pressed my head to his back, feeling the speed build as we tore up the mountain.

The engine screamed, the road twisting beneath us. I could smell gasoline and pine, taste the fear and excitement on my tongue.

At every curve, the bike leaned so far I swore I could feel the asphalt scrape by.

My knuckles whitened as I gripped his jacket, the world spinning past in a kaleidoscope of color and sound.

The summer night air, sliced by speed, stung like a thousand tiny knives on my bare arms.

Goosebumps prickled my skin. The chill cut through the heat of the day. I squeezed my eyes shut, trusting him to keep us upright.

"Hold on tight."

Jason gunned it through a sharp turn.

His voice was barely audible over the roar, but I heard the command. I pressed myself closer, refusing to let go.

When the rear wheel skidded at the apex, I held my breath.

For a heartbeat, time stopped. Then we straightened out, the bike surging forward. I exhaled, heart racing.

I stayed perfectly still, part of him.

I put my safety in his hands.

Not because I trusted him, but because I knew—as the main guy in this story—he’d never crash during this race.

I told myself it was just a story, just a script. But my hands shook anyway.

All I had to do was hold on and not let go.

The finish line loomed ahead, the crowd a blur of faces and phones. I gritted my teeth, holding on until the very end.

Jason’s Harley crossed the finish line first.

The cheers erupted, engines revving, people shouting our names. But Jason didn’t slow down.

He hit the throttle again, shooting out of the crowd and leaving the noise behind.

The world fell away, just the two of us and the open road. The city lights shimmered in the distance.

The bike finally slowed to a stop at the entrance to my apartment complex.

The engine sputtered, then died. The silence was deafening after the roar of the race.

After the engine cut, I kept my arms around him. I didn’t move until he gently patted my hand.

His touch was soft, almost hesitant. I let go, legs trembling as I swung off the bike.

Getting off, I let my legs tremble a little on purpose.

I leaned against the gate, pretending to catch my breath. Jason watched me, concern flickering in his eyes.

Standing under the flickering streetlight, I looked up at him, letting my gaze go just dazed enough.

The light cast shadows across his face, making him look older, almost vulnerable. I met his gaze, letting him see the fear and trust mixed together.

"Scared?"

He propped a foot on the curb, raising an eyebrow.

He tried to sound casual, but I heard the worry underneath.

"Yeah."

I nodded, fingers twisting the hem of my shirt.

"Third grade. My parents drove all night to make it back for my birthday, and then..."

The words caught in my throat, but I knew he understood.

His voice was rough. "So just now..."

He trailed off, unsure. I looked away, swallowing hard.

"You wanted me to keep you company, right?"

I cut him off. "You promised if you scored above 70 in every subject, I’d go with you. I didn’t want to ruin your night."

I looked him in the eye. "Besides, I trust you."

Those last three words came out barely a whisper, but I saw his whole body tense.

His jaw tightened, the veins standing out on the hand clenched around the handlebar.

"Tomorrow."

His voice was so low it was almost a growl. "Take the day off."

He looked away, jaw tight. I nodded, understanding more than he realized.

"Okay."

I turned and walked into my building, not looking back, but I could feel his eyes on my back.

The lobby was quiet. The air was cool and still. I didn’t let myself cry—not yet.

Behind me, the Harley never roared to life again.

The night pressed in, silent and heavy. I climbed the stairs, each step echoing with the memory of the race. The promise of tomorrow. And the knowledge that, this time, I was writing my own ending.