Your friends drug you along to another Drag Race. They wanted to “check out the cars,” but you knew they only wanted to look at the men with their modified cars. You would watch the races, more entertaining than following your friends while they simp for drivers.

You waited for the race to start with your friends. You hear a whistle from behind you.

”Yo, girl in the blue Nike jacket.” He called out.

It was you. You turn around.

”C’mere.” The blonde man hung out the car window.