Pitbabe S2, Chapter 17 pg6

 Pitbabe S2, Chapter 17 pg6

   My heart pounded harder as the distance grew. This was different from any other time I’d ridden along. Alan was pumped, the corners of his mouth lifted almost the whole time, as if the spirit of the number-one racer had possessed him. Every time he floored the accelerator, the car lurched so hard I had to grab the overhead handle. The speed was higher than I remembered. Today, it was like Alan wasn’t holding back at all, and it nearly made me puke.

   I wanted to scream every time we hit a curve, but I couldn’t. All I could do was clamp my lips shut and squeeze my eyes closed now and then. I never thought I’d feel scared riding in a race car. I’d ridden with Phii Babe before, and it wasn’t this terrifying. With Charlie, there’s no comparison—his speed is unmatched, but it’s steady, with hardly any heart-stopping moments. Even previous rides with Phii Alan didn’t feel like the rollercoaster this did.

   “You really drove like this during races?!” I couldn’t help (yelling) the question, both hands still gripping the handles tightly.

   “You bet!” Phii Alan shouted back gleefully. We reached the final curve before the straight to the finish line, and he drifted with a cloud of dust for no reason. Now I was sure he was messing with me. “Get why I was the champion now?”

   “I’m more curious how you survived to old age!”

   The speed-demon racer didn’t seem fazed in the slightest. Phii Alan piloted his beloved car across the finish line with me feeling like I was just a husk—my soul probably wandering somewhere around one of the track’s curves. The moment the car stopped, I felt like the food I ate that morning might come back up a bit, but luckily, I kept it down. My overall state wasn’t great, unlike the culprit, who was grinning ear to ear.

   “So… feel my coolness yet?” the former number-one asked, oozing pride.

   “If you want me to feel your coolness, next time let me watch from the sidelines,” I said, opening the door and climbing out. I yanked off the helmet and shed as much of the racing gear as I could. Having all this stuff wrapped around me was giving me weird vibes, somehow. “I thought I wouldn’t make it to see Charlie tomorrow.”

   “What… was it that scary?”

   “I’m never riding with you again.”

   As soon as I finished speaking, I stomped out of the track. Phii Alan didn’t say anything, and I even heard his amused laughter chasing after me. It was my fault for challenging him. Normally, I’m pretty cautious, but the ease and comfort of being around Phii Alan dulled my instincts and wits. I’ll blame half of it on him.

   “So, am I cool or what?” the teasing racer shouted after me.

   “No!” I shot back without turning around, afraid I’d accidentally let him see me smile. I didn’t want to admit outright that, honestly, Phii Alan in his racing suit, with that lively expression behind the wheel, was so cool it made my heart race (partly out of fear). I was scared he’d find an excuse to drag me along for a ride again.

   But I had to admit, that performance just now made it clear why everyone kept saying how hot Phii Alan was in racer mode.

   

   CHARLIE:

   “What’s in this one?” That was the question Dr. Chris asked every time he set a box down on the floor. His face was flushed from the effort of carrying it and the stifling heat. His demeanor and family background screamed that he wasn’t exactly familiar with manual labor. So, today was one of Dr. Chris’s grand acts of kindness—and a bold move on my part for daring to ask him for help.

   “Books,” I replied flatly, shifting the box to a corner to make room for the others still waiting in the delivery truck.

   “More?” The doctor put his hands on his hips, looking at me in disbelief while still catching his breath. “All these boxes, and it’s just books.”

   “Probably three or four more.”

   “That wasn’t a question.”

   “If you don’t want to carry them, leave them. I’ll go get them myself.” This wasn’t sarcasm. I was just tired of hearing him complain. Honestly, him even showing up to help move stuff today was a miracle for someone as comfort-loving as Dr. Chris. But he’d said himself that if I needed help with anything, I should just ask. So, I was trying not to hold back like I probably should.

   “Then your big brother will call me a spoiled rich kid again.”

   “Move, rich kid! The laborer’s gotta set this down.”

   Before the words were even out, the “big brother” in question strode in smoothly with a huge cardboard box. He used the heavy box to nudge Dr. Chris, who was blocking the way, against the wall before stacking it on top of the box the doctor had just put down. Letting out a big sigh as he released the massive load from his arms, Phii Alan rolled up his sleeve to wipe the sweat off his brow. He looked a bit tired but far more energetic than the other guy, despite being several years older.

   “I’ve hauled in a ton of boxes already. Still calling me a rich kid?” Dr. Chris shot Phii Alan a sideways glare. The two had a weird kind of friction. To be honest, I could hardly think of anyone who got along with Dr. Chris (not that you could blame them, given his personality). Meanwhile, the guy himself seemed to enjoy (teasing) everyone. Except maybe Alan, who could knock that smug attitude right out of the doctor. Chris would glare at Phii Alan, looking irritated instead of flashing his usual sly grin, while Alan acted aloof, like he couldn’t stand him but still wanted to mess with him all the time.

   “You complain every single box—too heavy, hurts your hands, too hot,” Phii Alan glanced over, grumbling vaguely as if not pointing fingers, but clearly aiming straight at him. “If you’re gonna whine this much, why not just stay home?”

   “Cause Charlie asked me to help.”

   “You’re a doctor, and you can’t even tell what’s beyond your own limits?”

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