Page 16 of Hyperspeed
“I’m just saying.” Jax rested his chopsticks on his plate and set it on his lap.
He had one dumpling left, and my eyes were on it. Knowing what I wanted, he put his plate on the couch beside him, far away from my greedy fingers.
“You’re always at the front,” he continued. “Which isn’t a bad thing. You’re good at what you do. But while you’re up ahead, the rest of us are fighting to keep our position, so playing it safe isn’t always an option.”
His lips curled into a wistful smile, full of fond memories of the track. “Besides, being reckless after forty-odd laps spices things up a bit. Makes it more exciting.”
I could see his point.
When you reached the front of the pack, the race became a game of calculated caution. Pushing just enough to secure a better result without risking it all. Focus shifted to making it past the checkered flag in one piece. Locking in points for yourself and the team. Keeping the championship in sight.
Anything less than perfection wasn’t an option. One wrong move could turn a comfortable lead into a race-ending disaster. A blown tyre, a failed thruster . . . just like that, you’re out.
But that didn’t mean the race wasn’t fun, right?
“I have fun,” I argued, my pout doing most of the talking.
“I’m sure you do, champ.” Jax patted my shoulder with the exaggerated care you’d give a sulking toddler. “But you should join the fight once in a while. Gets the blood pumping.”
“Maybe I will join the fight sometime . . . if anyone is ever good enough to overtake me.”
Jax snickered. “Okay, cocky. I can think ofsomeonewho might give you a run for your money.”
“Who? The rookie?” I scoffed, folding my arms over my chest.
My gaze dropped back to the abandoned dumpling. If he didn’t eat it soon, I was kidnapping it and holding it hostage in my tummy.
Jax held up his hands in surrender. “I didn’t say a word. But it sounds like Rev has taken up some prime real estate in your head.”
Fucking stars.
If only Jax knew how right he was.
Blood is Thicker Than Engine Oil
Rev
After the first race, my family decided it was the perfect time to throw a party, so here we were in my childhood home on Zyphar, the most populated planet in the galaxy. We’d squeezed around the small dining table to enjoy someluzari’eth—my favourite dessert.
I might’ve moved out after signing with Zenith, but that didn’t stop me from making the twenty-minute walk to their apartment for Grandma’s cooking several times a week.
I’d already been here for a few hours by the time we got around to talking about the race. Mum and Dad had watched it live on CSN, but they still insisted I share my account between mouthfuls of luzar fruit, velvety cream, and sweet nebula honey.
“I can’t believe you finished fourth!” Mum gushed, spooning more dessert into her bowl.
The party might’ve been in my honour, but this was a treat for everyone. The ingredients were pricey, so we only had it on birthdays or duringLiora’shenn—the galaxy-wide festival of light and remembrance.
“I can,” Dad said. He smacked my back hard enough that I almost deep-throated my spoon. “Our boy was made to race in the ASL.”
As he dived into an analysis of my “quick thinking,” his tone swelled with pride, like it was the best thing he’d ever seen. Warmth crept up my neck. The markings on the back of my hands glowed amber-gold, drawing attention to my mild embarrassment.
I wanted to brush it off, act like it was nothing, but the subtle violet gleam threading through the markings gave me away. A quiet admission that I liked it. That I craved the praise from those who mattered most.
Then Grandma clocked me on the head with her heavy-duty copy ofGalactic Expectations.
“What was that for?” I whined. The spot on my skull pulsed with a dull throbbing sensation, and I was sure a lump was already growing.
She tossed the book aside, the cover slapping against the floor with a flat smack. “You could’ve died,va’tari!” Her pet name for me—”star-born spirit”—was sweet, but it did nothing to ease the pounding in my head.
