Page 42 of You, Me, and Lucky Number 13

Lola takes the inside line on the next turn, edging ahead. Her hair’s a wild tangle blowing behind her, cheeks flushed with exertion and joy. For a second, I forget to breathe.

“Eyes on the road, Lawson!” she shouts, catching me staring.

I snap back to reality, overcorrecting and nearly kissing the plastic barrier. “Fuck!”

Her laughter rings out, a sound that hits me harder than any crash ever could.

We’re coming up on the final stretch. Everything we’ve been through, all the tension and unspoken words between us, it all fades away. Right now, we’re just two adrenaline junkies chasing that high.

I gun it, pushing my kart to its limits. Lola matches me, move for move. We cross the finish line in a blur, so close I can’t tell who won.

As we skid to a stop, breathless and grinning like idiots, I realize it doesn’t matter. Win or lose, being here with her… it feels like coming home.

We stumble out of the karts, legs wobbly and faces split with grins we can’t contain. The crew’s hollering, arguing over who placed where, but it’s all white noise.

I catch Lola’s eye. There’s a spark there, something electric that has nothing to do with the race we just ran.

“Rematch?” I ask, voice gruff.

She quirks an eyebrow. “Afraid I beat you?”

“In your dreams, sweetheart.”

We’re moving closer, pulled by some invisible force. The air between us crackles with tension.

“Hey, lovebirds!” Cam, shouts. “We’re hitting O’Malley’s. You coming or what?”

Lola breaks eye contact first, a hint of color in her cheeks. “Rain check on that rematch?”

I nod, suddenly aware of how dry my mouth is. “Yeah. Rain check.”

I drive to O’Malley’s in a haze. Lola rides with me, the silence in the car heavy with words left unsaid. I can feel her presence like a physical touch, setting my nerves on fire.

The bar’s packed when we arrive, news of our win spreading fast. Everyone wants a piece of the victorious team. I play my part, shaking hands and accepting congratulations. But my eyes keep finding her across the room.

Lola’s holding court by the pool table, laughing at something Cam said. The sight of her, relaxed and happy, hits me like a sucker punch.

I down my whiskey, the burn doing nothing to dull the ache in my chest. This thing between us, whatever the hell it is, is getting harder to ignore.

“Another round for the champ?” the bartender asks, snapping me out of my thoughts.

I shake my head. “Nah. I’m good. Thanks.”

I make my way through the crowd, drawn to her like a moth to flame. Lola spots me coming, her smile softening into something more private, like it’s just for me.

“Hey, hotshot,” she says as I reach her. “Enjoying your victory?”

I shrug, suddenly unsure of what to do with my hands. “It’s all right. Could use some fresh air, though.”

Her eyes search mine for a moment before she nods. “Yeah. Me, too.”

As we slip out the back door into the cool night air, I can’t shake the feeling that everything’s about to change.

We step into the alley behind O’Malley’s, the sounds of celebration muffled by the heavy door swinging shut behind us. The night air is cool on my skin, a stark contrast to the heat building inside me.

Lola leans against the brick wall, moonlight catching in her hair. She’s beautiful in a way that makes my chest ache.

“So,” she says, breaking the silence. “What does the winner get?”

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