Love on track

Chapter three

Applause faded as Coach Oliver’s booming voice died down. Ruby kept her eyes lowered, heart racing, still reeling from the revelation that the man she’d stormed out on last night was Theodore Wester, the racing prodigy and the son of the competition’s sponsor.

Of course. Fate couldn’t just let her slip by unnoticed.

“Enough introductions,” Coach Oliver barked. “Time to see what you’re made of. We’ll divide you into batches. Each team will run a friendly match. No eliminations today, just demonstration. We want to see your control, your precision, your instincts.”

The racers buzzed with excitement. Engines already roared in the background as the cars were rolled onto the track. Ruby’s palms itched just looking at them, the sharp scent of gasoline pulling her into a place of calm determination.

Oliver’s voice cut through her thoughts. “Batch one. Ruby Avelino and Theodore Wester.”

Ruby’s breath caught. Heads turned. A murmur rippled through the group. She could feel Lana’s eyes widen beside her.

Ruby forced her legs to move forward, her pulse thrumming in her ears. She slid into the driver’s seat of her assigned car, the leather cool against her palms. Across the lane, Theodore lowered himself into his vehicle with effortless grace. His hazel eyes flicked briefly to her, unreadable, before he snapped his helmet on.

“Show me what you can do,” Oliver commanded.

Engines roared to life. Ruby tightened her grip on the wheel, every muscle in her body alive. She remembered her uncle’s words: Control, Ruby. Always control.

The flag dropped.

They shot forward like bullets. The world narrowed to the curve of the track, the sound of tires biting asphalt, the rhythm of gears shifting beneath her fingertips.

Theodore was fast, blisteringly fast. But Ruby wasn’t about to be left behind. She leaned into every curve, braking at the perfect instant, accelerating with instinct honed from years of training on back road tracks with her uncle.

The crowd roared as they thundered past the stands. Ruby kept her eyes ahead, refusing to be intimidated by the legend racing beside her. She was not just some rookie. She had come here for her mother, for her father’s memory, for herself.

Lap after lap, Theodore pressed harder. Ruby matched him, turn for turn. Her pulse raced, adrenaline coursing through her veins, but her focus was razor sharp. On the final stretch, she spotted the opening, just a fraction of space, as Theodore swung wide on a corner. Ruby seized it.

She surged ahead, her car slicing past him by a breath. The finish line blurred beneath her wheels.

She won.

Silence fell for half a beat before the stands erupted in shocked cheers.

Ruby slowed, heart slamming against her ribs. She had beaten Theodore Wester.

She pulled off her helmet, her hair damp with sweat, and glanced across the track. Theodore’s car skidded to a stop beside hers. He removed his helmet slowly, his jaw tight, his hazel eyes locked on her with an intensity that made her pulse stumble.

Murmurs rippled through the group of trainees watching from the sidelines. Some looked impressed. Others, condescending.

“Who does she think she is?” Ruby heard one mutter.

“She actually beat Theo? No way.”

“She won’t last long.”

Ruby’s stomach twisted, but she held her chin high. She had earned this.

Theodore stepped out of his car, crossing the space between them with long, purposeful strides. Ruby braced herself.

He stopped close enough that she had to tilt her chin to meet his gaze. His voice was low, edged with something sharp. “I see your little hometown knows one or two things about racing.”

Ruby blinked at him, trying to decipher if that was an insult or a reluctant acknowledgment.

Her voice came out steady. “Look, if this is still about last night, I’m deeply sorry. I don’t know what other way you want me to say it.”

Theodore’s jaw flexed. His eyes burned into hers, unreadable but heavy. He was furious. She could see it in the tightness of his posture, the way his lips pressed into a line. Furious that she had beaten him. Furious that she had stolen the spotlight he had never shared with anyone.

And yet, beneath the fury, there was something else. Something he didn’t want to admit. He was impressed.

It infuriated him even more.

He leaned closer, his voice dropping to a near growl. “Enjoy it while it lasts, Avelino. Because you won’t take what’s mine again.”

Ruby’s fists clenched at her sides. “Maybe it’s not yours anymore.”

His eyes narrowed.

For a moment, the tension between them coiled, so tightly Ruby thought the air itself might snap. Then she turned abruptly, refusing to give him the satisfaction of seeing her falter.

She stormed off, her pulse still thrumming.