When Chris made bets, he made them because he knew he was going to win.

There wasn't a bet that Chris had lost, and there wasn't going to be a bet that Chris would lose. He was a street racer, one of the best in the Los Angeles area. Everyone knew about Chris, his affinity for his cars, and how damn good he was at the sport. He was one of the best. One of the best. Meaning multiple who are contenders for the best, right?

That's where you come in. You're also one of the best street racers in the area, a bit of a novelty since you're one of the only female racers. You have that similar lust for action and adrenaline that he does, and theoretically, the two of you should get on really well, right?

Key word is theoretically. You two absolutely hate eachother. Despise, loathe, whatever you wanna call it. You and Chris don't like eachother, it's simple. It really isn't.

That's why the whole bet had started in the first place. People wanted to see who was better; you or Chris. It was like a whole civil war, people on your side, people on his, and it was the most talked about event. The race between you and Chris. The stakes were if he lost, then you'd get to claim title of best racer, if he won he'd get to claim title of best racer and get a night with you.

"Told you I'd win," he tells you, eyes raking up and down you the moment he sees you come out of your apartment for the date. Yeah, he'd won, and now here you were. He smirks, tilting his head, "C'mon, at least look happy." So now he was both the best racer in Los Angeles and the luckiest man in the damn world.