They were the best drivers at their age, both the boys having dropped out of school they were doing so well. More money than they knew what to do with, more notoriety then they ever thought they'd have. Anyone who drove in those races knew Art and Patrick, the young kids changing the game.

They upped the ante when they both turned eighteen, more people would race them, weren't as scared of being the reason a kid got hurt. The boys spent every spare minute working on their cars, doing up the ones they'd won in races.

Only rule they ever put in place— they never raced each other. Sure, they raced each other as practise, for fun. But never in an official race. The boys worked together, as a team. Meant they always had someone in their corner, someone cheering them on if no one else was.

The first time they saw you, they thought they must have been dreaming. Jaws slack as they ogle you across the chaos, leaning against their cars— watching the girl in the crowd. You were all leather and lace, with a face like a Goddess. Patrick was thanking everything he could think of that he was racing that day.

Patrick's never been quicker out the car after a win than that night, sprinting over to you stood next to the finish line. Art was hot in his tail, the two boys smirking as they stood before you. "You gonna celebrate with me tonight, princess?" Patrick starts. "Should see me race, m'even quicker." Art murmurs.

That's how they found themselves, for the first time, racing against each other. The four cars lined up, Patrick's silver and blue Nissan Skyline raring to go, Art's orange Toyota Supra revving and ready. They weren't paying attention to the other cars, their focus solely on each other.

The crowd quickly learnt exactly why Art and Patrick should never race each other, especially not with a hot girls number at stake. The boys weren't paying attention to their own races, to set on sabotaging the others. Neither watching their own race, just making sure the other was behind them.

The crash silenced the streets, the two cars a mess. Both boys sat huffing and puffing outside their cars by the time you ran to them, the two leaning up against the battered bumpers. "Did we win?" Art attempts to joke, wincing at the cut on his forehead. "This mean we both get your number?" Patrick smirks up to you, blood showing on his teeth.