Lola POV
Sneaking out at night?
Yeah, that’s never been my thing.
Not even back when Mom and Dad were alive. I never had to. They always trusted me, gave me the kind of freedom most kids had to fight for. And I never gave them a reason not to.
But here I was now—pulling on black pants, a fitted black top, tying my hair up into a tight bun so it wouldn’t get in my face. Quiet. Calculated. Like I was planning a jailbreak.
Cassian had changed the locks.
He’d been keeping tabs on me like I was a prisoner, not his sister. Always watching. Always questioning. Always making sure I didn’t breathe too close to a certain someone.
The good part? He was finally taking volleyball seriously again.
He came to practice on time. He followed plays. He trained hard. It was… weird. A little relieving, but also frustrating. Because the only reason he started doing all that again?
Because I made out with Jace.
I had to make out with our rival just to get my brother to give a damn again. Let that sink in.
The whole thing was so messed up.
But tonight wasn’t about Cassian.
It was about him.
Jace.
He’d texted me thirty minutes ago: You up? Want to go for a drive?
And even though my brain screamed all the reasons why I shouldn’t, my fingers typed back: Where to?
His next message came ten minutes later.
Does it matter? I’ll make sure you don’t regret it.
I didn’t even ask what he meant. I just knew I wanted to go. With him, the world was… quieter. Slower. It didn’t make sense—but somehow, everything did.
I wasn’t even sure what to call this thing between us. Was it love?
Could rivals even fall in love?
Should they?
Probably not. But my heart clearly didn’t care.
I was zipping my hoodie when my phone buzzed again.
I’m outside.
I grabbed my backpack, tiptoed across the hallway, then opened my window. I climbed out slowly, landing with a soft thud on the roof below, then carefully dropped into the garden. The grass was cold against my bare feet, and the night air was thick with crickets and rebellion.
Under the tree at the edge of the driveway, there he was.
Jace.
Sitting on his black-and-silver motorcycle, one foot resting on the ground, a helmet slung on his arm. His hoodie was half-zipped, and his hair stuck out in all the right places like he didn’t even try.
I walked over, arms crossed.
“You’re trying to kill me?” I asked. “On that thing?”
He chuckled, low and warm. “Come on, Sinclair. I love my baby more than you.”
“Oh?” I smirked. “So you do love me.”
He rolled his eyes and shoved the helmet into my hands. “Wear that.”
“You didn’t deny it,” I said, teasing.
“You don’t love me either,” he shot back.
I raised my eyebrow. “Didn’t say that.”
He leaned in, grabbed my face, and kissed me. Slow. Delicious. Like he was making a point.
When he pulled away, he whispered, “I love you like a sore tooth.”
I laughed, loud and unfiltered. “That’s disgusting.”
“And honest,” he said, swinging his leg back over the bike. “Get on.”
I slid behind him, wrapping my arms around his waist. The engine roared to life beneath us, and just like that, we were gone.
The wind hit my face like a rush of adrenaline. My hair whipped behind me. The world blurred into streaks of streetlights and shadows. And all I could think about was how this—this—felt better than any win I’d ever had.
“Hey!” I yelled over the wind. “If we crash, I’m blaming you!”
Jace laughed without looking back. “That’s fair. But you’ll still look good flying through the air.”
“Shut up, Reyes!”
“Make me, Sinclair!”
We rode like that for a while, down long empty roads with no destination in sight. Eventually, we turned off the main road, onto a rougher, gravel path. My arms tightened around him.
“Where are we going?” I asked, leaning forward.
“Sit tight,” he said. “You’ll see.”
Trees rose up on either side of us. The road curved and dipped. Finally, he slowed down in front of a tall gate.
He pulled out a key from his pocket, unlocked it, and pushed the gate open with a loud clang.
I frowned. “What is this?”
He smirked and rode us through.
The space opened up wide—an enormous stretch of packed dirt, hills, jumps, and tire marks carved into the earth.
“Welcome,” he said, parking the bike and taking off his helmet, “to my second home.”
I blinked. “What… is this place?”
Jace turned to me, his expression soft but proud. “This… is the racing track.”
My breath caught.
“Racing track?” I repeated, stepping off the bike.
He nodded once. “Yeah. I’m a racer.”