Page 29 of The Girl I Once Loved

She fucking hates me, and hate is as far from a sentiment of indifference as there can be.

I can work with hate.

Because her hate has always tasted a lot like love to me.

Yeah.

I can definitely work with hate.

Chapter Six

Noah

It’s been years since I've been in this place—the heart of the underground street racing scene in Thatcher's Bay. The dimly lit alley reeks of gasoline and anticipation, and the familiar revving of engines creates a cacophony that drowns out the world. I stood amidst a sea of racers, my fingers gripping the handlebars of my motorcycle, feeling the vibrations of the powerful machine beneath me.

The last time I'd been here, I was a reckless teenager with nothing to lose, desperate to get some money to pay my mother’s debt. Now, I was a man burdened with the weight of memories and regrets, haunted by the ghost of a love lost—by Sky.

I'd told myself I'd never come back to this place, that I'd left it all behind. But tonight, I needed something to drown out the relentless thoughts of her. The ache in my chest, the way her memory haunted my dreams—it was a torment I couldn't escape. I needed this race, this rush, to remind myself that I was still alive.

I glance around at the other racers, their faces obscured by helmets, their bikes gleaming in the dim light. Some were old faces, others new, but they all shared the same hunger for victory, the same desire to prove themselves in this unforgiving world.

"Hey, Noah," a voice calls out from behind me. I turn to see a racer I vaguely recognize, his helmet adorned with a skull motif.

"Long time no see," he continues, his tone dripping with sarcasm.

I nod in acknowledgment, not in the mood for small talk. "Yeah, it's been a while."

"You’re not the king of the streets anymore," he says, a hint of challenge in his voice, even though I had definitely never called myself that.

I clench my jaw, memories of my past glory flashing before me. "That was a lifetime ago."

He chuckles, a dark and bitter sound. "Well, things have changed. There are new contenders now, and they're hungry. It’s not the old days anymore."

I don’t respond, my focus on the race ahead. I’m not here to prove anything to anyone else, and certainly not to some fuck head I can’t even remember. I’m here for one thing: to drown out the memories of Sky that are literally chasing me from my bed.

I can’t get it out of my head…the way she’d responded to me in my room. The flash of her eyes. The exhale of her breath. The feel of her pressed against me.

It’s everything I’ve been obsessing over, every single fucking day. Everything I couldn’t forget.

The signal’s given, and we’re off, the roar of engines and the screech of tires filling the air. The world around me blurs into a frenzy of lights and shadows as I tear through the streets of Thatcher's Bay. The adrenaline surges through my veins, and for a moment, all thoughts of Sky fade away. There’s only the race, the rush, the thrill of pushing my limits.

As we speed through the winding streets, I find myself neck and neck with another racer, his bike a sleek machine of power and precision. The corners come fast and sharp, and I lean into them with a practiced ease. My bike's tires squeal in protest, but I hold my ground, refusing to yield an inch.

We race through narrow alleyways, dodging obstacles with a reckless abandon that comes from years of experience. The memories of my past victories and defeats come flooding back, and I embrace them, drawing strength from every one.

The race continues, a relentless battle of wills and skills. I push my bike harder, faster, determined to maintain my lead. The other racers are close behind, their engines roaring in my ears, but I refuse to let them catch up.

In the final stretch, I surged ahead, my bike's engine screaming in protest as I push it to the limit. The finish line is in sight, and victory’s within my grasp. The world around me fades away, leaving only the road and the sensation of speed.

As I cross the finish line, triumphant and victorious, a surge of adrenaline and emotion washes over me. I pull my bike to a stop, the engine still revving as I bask in the familiar rush of adrenaline. The onlookers who have gathered cheer, their admiration and awe palpable. It was a heady feeling, one that I only got nowadays when I was out on the water.

As I dismount my bike, the other racers approach, their faces a mixture of respect and envy. "Good race, Noah," one of them says, extending a hand.

I shake it, the rush of victory still coursing through my veins. "Thanks."

Another racer claps me on the back. "You've still got it, man."

I smile, a sense of pride swelling within me. "Yeah, I guess I do."

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