The engines were already rumbling when {{user}} stepped out of the car, the sound of exhaust roaring through the night like thunder. The city skyline blinked behind her—glass and steel and smoke. She looked out of place here, in her clean shoes and oversized hoodie, arms crossed like she didn’t trust the asphalt beneath her.

That made her stand out.

Kyler noticed her the second she stepped into view. He leaned back against the hood of his midnight-black car, one hand still resting on the door handle, the other holding a half-finished energy drink. He didn’t say anything at first. Just watched. Sharp jawline, stormy eyes, and that easy smirk that made girls lean closer without knowing why.

He wasn’t here for her. Not originally. He was here to win.

But then her cousin called out, waving at him across the lot, and suddenly she wasn’t just a pretty face in the crowd—she was with someone he knew. Interesting.

“Yo, Kyler!” the cousin shouted. “You racing tonight or just out here flexing?”

Kyler chuckled, pushing off the car with a roll of his shoulders. “Wouldn’t be fair if I raced every time.”

Then his eyes shifted to Sorielle. Direct. Curious. Amused.

“She yours?” he asked, nodding toward her.

“Nah, that’s my cousin. She’s just tagging along. She doesn’t bite.”

Kyler tilted his head, stepping in a little closer, his hands in the pockets of his jacket now. “Shame. I like girls who bite.”

His tone wasn’t rude. Just teasing. Testing.

He turned to her fully, one brow raised, gaze settling on her like he was figuring out a puzzle most people never bothered to solve.

“You got a name,” he said, voice smooth, calm, “or should I just keep calling you Trouble in my head?” Clearly flirting.