Chapter 8 Reckless

• 《 Shirley 》
• It is said that your life flashes before your eyes just before you die—well, that was happening with me. Because my joyous life was about to come to an end; thanks to a man named Dylan Lewiston.
• I skipped past the swarm of people, my legs running as fast as possible. Only a few minutes were left before the clock hit ten.
• The reason I was in this condition—I overslept.
• I thought I would reach our meeting place on time if I drove at a crazy speed, even if that meant breaking the traffic rules—not that I ever cared about it. But since I was always the unluckiest one, my car decided to break down in the middle of the traffic. That too in the rush hour meant no cabs.
• Deserting my car in the traffic, not caring about the consequences and how much trouble it would cause to the busy people of the city, I decided to run my way to the western racing fields. No matter what, I had to be there on time.
• Dylan warned me not to be late. On top of that, I was the one who decided the time and place. How could I arrive late?
• Dylan would probably plot the most gruesome death for me. He wouldn't even leave my family out of the picture and drag them to the gallows with me.
• When I reached the front gate, I gasped for air. From the corner of my eyes, I saw a man opening a door to a car. I immediately rushed towards him and closed the door, stopping him from getting in the car.
• "Hey, hey, don't leave, Dylan," I quickly said, still catching my breath.
• "Why shouldn't I?" Dylan demanded.
• "Look, my car broke down, and I—"
• "I don't want to listen to any excuses. We're done, Ms. Hamilton," he declared, and he seemed dead serious.
• "I tried my best to be here on time. I know-"
• "If you were five minutes late, it was acceptable. But fifteen minutes? I don't have all the time in the world to be waiting for that long for a troublesome person like you." His words stung. It always did. But revenge would have to wait.
• "One more chance," I requested. "Give me one more chance. I won't ever be late. I swear on your life."
• Dylan frowned. "Do you ever swear on your own life?"
• "I'm afraid that will cause my death sooner," I replied innocently. The thought of dying was scary, so I always avoided swearing on my own life, in case I broke the promise I was making.
• "Oh, so you're happy to end my life quickly for that reason?" He arched an eyebrow.
• "I'll be happy to see you in a coffin," I muttered under my breath.
• "Excuse me?" he said with disbelief.
• I just flashed him a sheepish smile to cover up.
• "Anyways, I'm leaving." Dylan again tried to open the door to his car, and I again closed it.
• "Please don't leave." I tugged at his shirt sleeve, flashing him my best puppy eyes. He eyed me up with an odd look on his face. I should have known better than to use that on a heartless man like him.
• "Don't give me that look, it's creepy," he said passively, brushing away my hand.
• I held back a chuckle at his reaction and blinked up at him a few times, trusting my long eyelashes to melt his heart enough to change his mind. If this was a cartoon, my eyes would have been sparkling with glitters.
• "It's even creepier." He released a long breath, and I pouted. "What do I even expect from you? You're a stalker, and stalkers are creepy."
• "Hey, I have told you that I'm not a stalker." I was offended.
• Dylan rolled his eyes.
• I swear one of these days I'm going to make him trip on his own foot, I thought angrily.
• Biting my lips, I asked, "So are you staying?"
• "That's a hard decision," he said haughtily. He pinched the bridge of his nose, pretending to be in some deep thought, while I kept fidgeting in my shoes.
• What if he denied training me anymore? the thought kept ringing in my head until he released an exasperated sigh. I felt as though he was going to break off the deal between us. Nope, not on my watch.
• Before he could open his mouth to say anything, well aware that I was no match for him in brute strength, I grabbed him by his arm and started dragging him inside. After all, I wasn't taking no for an answer.
• "Hey, let go of me," he protested.
• "I won't." I kept a firm hold on his arm. "You won't leave. That's it," I declared stubbornly.
• "Since when do you get to make the final decisions?" he complained with an irritated frown creased on his forehead.
• "I believe in equality. You boss me around sometimes, I do the same to you," I replied contently as we reached the open racing grounds.
• My eyes hovered over the formula racing cars and the tricky racing tracks. An excited squeal left my mouth and a goofy grin formed on my face. I was about to approach one of the trial racing cars but was held back by Dylan.
• "Not so fast." I pouted. "Since I waited for fifteen minutes, I might as well as test you first," he told me. I found it quite unnerving that he wasn't resisting anymore.
• Did I just make a Mafia leader bend to my wishes? Yes, yes, I did.
• I patted my own shoulder with pride swelling up my chest to which Dylan wriggled his eyebrows at me, clearly creeped out.
• "So," I pulled a wide enthusiastic smile on my face, twirling around a bit, and said, "What do we do now?"
• "Let's dance," he offered.
• "I don't think it's a very good place to dance," I said unsurely and looked around to find many workers and other people.
• "Geez, I was being sarcastic." He huffed, and my mouth turned into a big 'O'. "Anyways, let's go for a test drive." He took a hold of my wrist and guided me towards the garage.
• He picked out McLaren Senna and told me that it was better to try out a normal racing car, rather than a formula racing car from the get-go.
• As we were seated in the car, I fastened my seat belt, ready to start the car, when Dylan started explaining a few things about how to maintain a lead from the very beginning. But my mind wandered off to some evil ideas.
• My eyes fell on his unfastened seat belt. A smirk made its way to my lips.
• For that day in the basement, for putting me at gunpoint, for making me chase him for a month—that was my choice, but whatever—and for saying awful things to me, it was a simple payback.
• Dylan was in the middle of explaining when I pressed the accelerator and pulled the gear lever, making the engine roar to life. At the sudden motion, Dylan jolted forward, caught off-guard, almost hitting the side of his head on the dashboard.
• "That's a reckless way to start!" he exclaimed.
• "I'll show you what is reckless driving," I smirked at him and pulled over the racing tracks.
• "Stop," he mumbled almost inaudibly.
• "I didn't quite catch you," I said, trying my best to keep the smug grin off my face. It felt amazing to have him under my control for once, where I was in charge of his life. If I were to crash the car, he could just sit and watch me do that—not that I would actually do it.
• "Stop it," he said in a louder voice as if trying to contain his rage—or probably he was just scared of the car crash.
• "Why? We are just test driving," I let out innocently.
• "The only thing we're testing is my fucking patience!" he snapped, and I giggled.
• "Stop the car already!" he yelled out. He hurriedly tried to fasten the seat belt in the hope of saving his dear life. But it seemed as though luck was not in his favor—the seat belt was jammed. It wasn't part of the plan, but oh well, I couldn't be happier. Served him right.
• Dylan closed his eyes for a brief moment, probably sending a silent prayer to God.
• "Not at all!" I roared, increasing the speed further, forcing him to jerk forward.
• I was enjoying every bit of his screams, and I wouldn't let my fun die that easily.