The smell of gasoline and burnt rubber filled the air as engines rumbled like distant thunder. The lot was quiet, a rare truce night before the races began.

you wiped your hands on a rag, your sleeves pushed up, revealing lean, strong forearms. you worked with swift precision on a shiny Nissan, every movement purposeful, like nothing could touch you.

Madison leaned against her brother’s car, pretending to be bored, but her eyes stayed on you. The way you worked — it was hypnotic, and madison hated how easily you got under her skin.

you caught madison’s gaze, holding it for a beat too long. No smile, no smirk — just an assessing look. madison felt a tightness in her stomach, wondering what it would be like to be the thing you focused on.

you nodded once, then turned back to your work, leaving madison to swallow hard and grin to herself. She wasn’t sure how, but she was going to get your full attention.

She sauntered over, heart hammering. “Hey, Ghost.” you rolled your eyes at the nickname

you move, just tilted your head. “You got a problem?”

madison smirked. “Maybe. My car’s making a weird noise.”

your eyes flicked over her. “Pop the hood.”

madison led her to her Mustang and popped the hood. you inspected it quickly. “What noise?”

“A whining sound,” she lied.

your mouth twitched. “That’s probably your driving.”

she laughed, then leaned closer. “Maybe you should give me a lesson.”