Page 79 of Revved up & Ready

“No,” she answers, a sliver of her competitive streak showing through. “I know how to drive.”

She picks a black-and-yellow kart, number seven, and I take my time helping her get buckled into the four-point seatbelt.

“Is this necessary?” she giggles, as I run my fingers under the straps that go from her shoulders to the connection point at her waist.

“Of course,” I answer.

“For safety?” she asks, narrowing her eyes.

“Not at all,” I answer with a low chuckle. “That was necessary because I wanted to touch you.”

Her cheeks flush, but her lips turn into the same teasing smirk I’m beginning to yearn for. Giving her buckle a firm tug—that actually is for her safety—I reach down and pull the starter on her kart. “Rubber side down,” I say, kissing her helmet in the same place she once kissed mine—right underneath the visor’s opening.

She giggles and smiles as I fold myself into the one next to hers. These karts are low to the ground, with a metal frame, bucket seat, and not much else. They’re so small, my knees stick up comically close to my ears.

“You look ridiculous,” she laughs.

“Won’t affect my ability to win a race. Don’t worry,” I say with all the seriousness a man who’s folded himself into a pretzel to race a go-kart can.

“I thoughtIwas supposed to win,” she says.

“It doesn’t count as winning if Iletyou—”

She slams on the gas, pulling away before I’ve finished my sentence or buckled my seatbelt.Smart girl.

The tiniest ball of anxiety appears in my chest when I see her out on the track by herself. Itissafe, but I wanted to be there to help her. I’m sure it’s only a small fraction of what she feels every time I race, but it’s good for me to experience it.

I make it onto the track as she disappears around turn one, tires screeching loudly enough I’m surprised she doesn’t hit the rubber barriers that define the track. Letting her experience the joy of an empty track, I keep some distance. She doesn’t take turn two quite as fast, but her tires are still screeching—slowing all the momentum she built on the straightaway. In the next few turns, she starts to find the rhythm of entering a turn slow andexiting it fast. By the time she’s finished her first lap, she’s even racing the most efficient line of the track.

I come up close, letting her feel what it’s like when someone’s trying to pass. She looks over her shoulder at me, and I throw my fingers up—pointing first to my eyes, then to the track ahead.No girlfriend of mine—pretend or otherwise—is going to make the mistake of not watching where she’s going.Sadie’s head snaps forward just in time to save herself from hitting the rubber barrier.

The ball of anxiety appears again. Even if she had hit it, she wouldn’t have been hurt, but I don’t want that for her.

She needs to be comfortable with other racers getting close and trying to pass, so I nose into the opening she leaves on the next turn but hang back instead of passing. I keep that up, giving her a break on a few turns, since having me that close likely made her anxious. One time, she actually blocks me herself, so Ican’tpass her.It’s pretty hot.

During our third lap, I take the opening and move past her into the lead. Giving thegopedal everything I’ve got, I take the kart to its sixty-five-mile-an-hour limit. Sadie does an impressive job of following my race line and staying reasonably close to me—usually no more than two or three turns behind.

We pull over after a few more practice laps, and she barely has her visor open before she cheers, “That wassofun! And—oh, my word—how dare you be so much better at that than I am?”

“I’d be in a lot of trouble if your first time on a track, you beat me in a race,” I say, unbuckling the strap under her helmet and helping her lift it off.

“I guess.” She stands up from her kart and shakes out her legs. “But I had a good lead on you in the beginning.”

Unable to resist, I tease, “Because you cheated.”

“I did not cheat,” she denies with a scandalized gasp.

“You started before the green flag.”

“What green flag? It’s just the two of us.” She puts her hands on her hips.

“Alright, you didn’t cheat,” I give in, stepping closer. “You were amazing out there.”

“I was, wasn’t I?” she beams, in a rare moment of accepting my compliment.

I run through some quick advice to help her with speed before we head back out on the track for more practice. By the time our friends arrive, her nerves seem to have settled, and she’s ready to race.

When Bea, Allie, and Devon rush her with hugs, I step back to give her space with her friends. But she cuts through the little crowd past Luke and Rhett, grabbing my hand and stepping in front of me with her back to my chest. Excitement rolls off her as she gives everyone an abridged version of the safety talk we went through an hour ago.

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