Chapter 2 - The Racetrack
Chapter 2 - The Racetrack - August 7, 1993
The drive south from Bosk Farm Lane took them about thirty minutes, winding through rural roads that opened up into farmland before the entrance to Frost Raceway appeared. The sun was already beating down fiercely, and the air around the track hung thick with the smell of exhaust, burnt rubber, and the faint, greasy scent of concessions. This particular NHRA sanctioned event wasn't just any race day; it was one of the biggest and most attended for this smaller, local drag strip, promising high-stakes runs and, later, a special Top Fuel Dragster exhibition after dark.
Matt loved drag racing. The raw noise, the blur of speed, the pure adrenaline rush – it was all a language he understood. He’d been looking forward to this event at his home track for weeks, already imagining the day he'd get his own car built to launch down that track himself. He'd arrived early, spending the morning exploring the pits, admiring the racecars up close. Now, he waited by the concessions stand at their agreed-upon time of noon.
Paul had agreed to meet Matt here. Back on the porch on Bosk Farm Lane, Rita had practically begged Paul to take her and Katrina along. She’d even promised to do his laundry for a month if he would just let them come. Paul rolled his eyes, feigning reluctance, but he'd already planned on saying yes to his little sister. He loved Rita and always had a hard time saying no to her, bribe or no bribe. Agreeing to let Katrina come too wasn't met with enthusiasm, but he conceded.
Katrina had never been to a drag strip before. She’d seen drag racing on TV but wasn’t sure what to expect. The racing part didn’t really matter to her, anyway. She was mostly there because of Paul, and maybe a little because of the unexpected pull she'd felt towards his friend, Matt, a few weeks ago.
When they went to leave for the track, Katrina had slid across the bench seat of Paul’s F-150, settling herself right beside him. The gear shifter between her legs was enough to make Paul shift uncomfortably in his seat, a subtle reaction he hoped she didn’t notice, even if he pretended he wasn’t as into her as he once was. That effortless confidence, the way she always took up space like she belonged there, still got to him.
They parked in the sprawling gravel spectator lot, the stones crunching under their feet as they all hopped out. The noise from the cars revving in the distance was already a physical presence, reverberating through the metal stands they passed. They wandered through the crowd by the concessions, finally spotting Matt, beers already in hand, one for himself and one for Paul.
"Matt!" Rita called, her voice bright, cutting through the general hum of the crowd.
Matt looked up, a flicker of surprise crossing his face as he saw the girls. He hadn't expected them. His eyes landed on Rita first, then shifted past Paul, straightening up beside her, to Katrina. A different flicker, quick, undeniable. He recovered smoothly, offering a faint smile.
"Hey," Matt said as they approached, handing a cold beer to Paul. "Didn't know you guys were coming."
Paul took the beer with a quick, nonchalant nod. "Rita bribed me." He shrugged, taking a long pull from the bottle, letting the brief, awkward silence pass. He wasn't about to make a big deal out of it.
Katrina offered a polite smile. "Hope you don't mind," she said, looking directly at Matt. "Rita insisted."
Matt met her gaze for a second. "Nah, it's cool. The more the merrier." He looked towards Rita then, a brief, friendly smile for Paul's sister.
Rita was on edge, a nervous energy vibrating just below the surface, trying to appear casual, trying to match Katrina's seemingly effortless ease. Katrina, trying to play it cool herself, just gave a quiet hello.
"So, stands are probably packed," Paul said, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. "Matt, you thinking the hill?"
"Yeah," Matt confirmed. "Best spot. Cooler, usually get a breeze." He gestured towards the starting end of the track, beyond the metal stands, where a large grassy hill sloped upwards, shaded by a line of tall pine and hardwood trees.
They made their way over, navigating the edges of the crowd. The hill was still popular, but they found a spot on the soft grass under the edge of the trees. Matt sat down first, Rita quickly settling beside him. Katrina paused for just a beat, a subtle hesitation, before sitting beside Rita. Paul sat on the other side of Matt. As she settled onto the grass beside Rita, Katrina couldn't help but notice Paul had deliberately avoided sitting next to her, choosing the spot on Matt's other side instead.
The initial races began – local cars, loud but not the earth-shattering roar of the professional circuit. The heat was intense, and even under the trees, the air felt heavy.
Katrina was already bored. Drag racing local style was repetitive, long, and frankly, not that exciting compared to the TV broadcasts. She tried people-watching for a while, noting the characters scattered across the hill and in the stands – the serious racers, the rowdy fans, the families. But even that lost its charm. Her face, usually so expressive when her guard was down, showed the clear signs of her boredom.
Matt, watching her, noticed it. He leaned slightly past Rita. "Just wait," he said, his voice low but audible over the engine noise. "Trust me, it's going to get better after dark." His eyes held a flicker of genuine excitement.
Rita was not thrilled that Matt was focusing his attention on Katrina. Jealousy flared up, a hot, quick sting she felt just under her skin. Unlike Katrina, though, Rita had learned to control her outward expressions, to hide her reactions behind a carefully neutral face. She did her best to refocus her attention on Matt, willing her irritation at Katrina to subside.
As dusk settled and the track lights began to hum to life, Paul got up abruptly. "Be back," he muttered, barely glancing at the group before heading down the hill toward the pits. He had spotted a girl he’d met at the bar the week before, someone who held more immediate interest for him tonight than the complicated dynamic unfolding on the hill.
Katrina watched him go, a wave of disappointment rising in her chest. She had needed Paul there, needed his presence as a buffer, a distraction from the unwelcome pull she felt toward Matt. Losing him felt like losing a shield. Staying out of deep entanglement with Matt was crucial – not when Rita's feelings for him ran so deep. That was a line Katrina was determined not to cross.
It was dark now, and the track lights flooded the strip, making everything feel sharper, more alive. The loud, local races gave way to a new kind of energy as the exhibition Top Fuel dragsters began to line up. Their engines rumbled with a deeper, more menacing promise.
Matt leaned forward, his blue eyes sparkling with anticipation as he glanced past Rita at Katrina. "You might want to plug your ears now," he said, his voice raised to be heard over the growing hum of the crowd and the increasingly loud idle of the powerful engines.
Before either girl could fully react, the first pair of Top Fuel dragsters, a special exhibition for the fans, launched. The sound wasn't just loud; it was a physical impact, a massive, concussive wave of noise that seemed to punch straight into their chests. The ground beneath them trembled violently, and Katrina's breath caught in her throat as the vibrations slammed through her body, seemingly rattling her bones. Instinctively, she threw her hands over her ears, but the sound and vibration still vibrated through her entire body, leaving her with a buzzing, almost electric feeling that was both thrilling and disorienting.
A moment later, as the first cars screamed down the strip and the noise subsided slightly, Katrina threw her head back in unabashed, pure laughter. It wasn’t forced or calculated. It was shock, thrill, and pure joy. She glanced over at Matt, her face illuminated by the track lights, eyes wide and sparkling with the thrill of it all. She caught his gaze, and in that shared moment of exhilarated shock, her heart skipped a beat, and so did his.
But then she saw the look on Rita’s face—narrowed eyes, lips pressed into an unhappy line. Katrina’s laughter faltered. She hadn’t done anything wrong, just reacted honestly to the incredible noise and power, but it was clear Rita wasn’t enjoying the moment, wasn't sharing her joy. The sparkle in Katrina’s eyes dimmed just a little as she reeled herself in, forcing her attention toward the next set of cars lining up, muting the spontaneous joy.
Matt looked confused, unsure of what had shifted between the two friends, but he didn’t say anything. He just leaned back against the hill, letting the noise roll over them again as the next cars prepared to run.
The rest of the night passed in a blur of powerful engines and shaking ground. Katrina did her best to focus on the roar of the dragsters, the sound of the crowd, anything but Matt. She was also annoyed at Paul for taking off to be with that girl from the bar. He was supposed to be there for her distraction, for her shield. It was pretty clear he wasn't coming back.
Rita realized it too. Katrina watched as Rita leaned toward Matt and asked, in the sweetest voice imaginable, her eyes fixed on Matt, “Paul left with that bar girl. Would you be able to take us home?”
“Wait, he just left?” Matt asked, blinking in genuine surprise. He had been absorbed in the racing.
Rita nodded. She wasn’t mad at Paul—not really. Just… resigned. “Yeah.”
“Of course I’ll take you both home,” Matt said. His mind swirled. Paul had actually left them there.
This time, Rita slid into the middle seat of Matt’s ’88 Ford Ranger. The gear shift pressed awkwardly against her thigh, and Matt couldn’t help but wish it was Katrina sitting beside him instead. But it wasn’t. It was Rita, trying to make small talk, while Katrina sat by the window, looking out into the darkness, lost in her own thoughts, the earlier sparkle dimmed.
The radio played a Pam Tillis song, low and crackly through the old speakers. Katrina began to sing along—softly, almost without thinking, a natural reaction to the music. Her voice matched the one on the radio so perfectly that Matt froze for a second. It was clear, sure, and sweet, and it hit something deep in his chest, a different kind of unexpected pull. He smiled without meaning to, turning his head slightly towards her voice.
Rita noticed. Sitting right next to him, she saw the way Matt’s attention shifted—and it wasn’t in her favor.
Rita
The sun beat down on Frost Raceway. The place buzzed with energy, and Matt had said something about how much he loved drag racing the last time she saw him. Loved the noise, the speed, the raw adrenaline of it all. One day, he swore he’d have his own car built to fly down that track.
It was Matt’s thing, not really Rita’s. But she liked seeing how happy it made him.
Matt had invited her brother to meet him there, and she had practically begged her brother to let her and Katrina tag along. She even promised to do his laundry for a month. Paul had rolled his eyes, but she could tell he was never really going to say no.
As for Katrina coming too, Paul didn’t say much about it, but Rita caught the little pause, the way his jaw tightened just slightly before he agreed. She knew there was history there. Paul had really liked Katrina a couple of years back, and Katrina... well, Katrina had liked the attention.
Katrina had told Rita that didn't know that much about racing and wasn't all that interested in it but Rita knew her best friend well enough to know what she was interested in—getting her brother's attention so that was the carrot she dangled to get Katrina to go. It had always been like a little game to her. Back then, she’d let Paul get close enough to hope. Though neither of them actually said as much to her, she was pretty sure they had made out with him a few times, maybe even done more. Then Katrina turned around and dated Seamus—their too-old for her too-cocky douche neighbor. Rita still doesn't understand what Katrina ever saw in him.
Rita had felt bad for Paul, but he’d moved on. Or at least, that’s what he claimed.
Katrina, though... Katrina could flip the switch on her charm like it was nothing. Sometimes it was calculated, other times she didn’t even seem to realize she was doing it. But Rita recognized the glint in her eye the second they piled into Paul’s truck that afternoon.
And maybe she should’ve said something. Maybe she should’ve warned her best friend not to play around with her brother again.
But she didn’t.
Because honestly? She wasn’t worried about Paul getting hurt this time. He wasn't going to let that happen.
And maybe—just maybe—she didn’t mind seeing Katrina try a little too hard and not get the reaction she was used to getting for once.
Rita had never been great at flirting.
She wasn’t oblivious—she saw how Katrina worked a room, how she could tilt her head just the right way or laugh like she wasn’t trying at all. It was natural for her, like breathing. But for Rita, trying to copy her best friend’s charm felt clunky, like walking in shoes that didn’t fit. When she tried to mimic Katrina’s breezy confidence, it rarely landed right. She’d end up overthinking her smile, her posture, her tone—until whatever moment might’ve been there fizzled into awkwardness.
Still, she tried sometimes. Even when she knew it wouldn’t feel right. Even when she knew she didn’t have to.
Because deep down, Rita never quite believed she was enough—not as she was. Not without trying harder.
She’d picked out a soft pink V-neck that morning, one that made her skin look a little warmer in the sunlight. Black cotton shorts. Flip-flops. Simple. But she’d added her gold hoops and the cross necklace her grandmother gave her for confirmation, the one that always caught the light and made her feel just a little bit bolder. Her black-framed Ray-Bans gave her an edge she didn’t usually feel.
When Katrina slid across the bench seat of Paul’s F-150 like she owned it, Rita just watched. Her best friend made even sitting look cool. Tank top hugging her in all the right places, those thrifted cutoffs hugging her in even more right places, and those worn-out Keds like she’d walked straight out of a summer commercial. It didn’t matter that she bought everything at Walmart or secondhand—Katrina always found a way to look like she belonged.
She hadn’t missed the way Paul shifted slightly when Katrina settled next to him, or the flicker of something in his expression. Most people wouldn’t have caught it, but Rita knew her brother. That look wasn’t nothing.
She also knew that history between them hadn’t totally gone cold. Not really.
But Rita didn’t say anything. She just sat quietly in the truck, picking at a loose thread on her shorts, wondering—not for the first time—what it would feel like to be the kind of girl who made people shift in their seats.
They parked in the gravel lot and stepped out into the chaotic hum of the racetrack. The air was thick with the scent of gasoline and frying meat, the kind of mix that clung to your skin and hair. People buzzed around in tank tops and baseball caps, cups of beer in hand, and the roar of engines thundered through the stands like a heartbeat.
It took a while to find Matt in the crowd, but there he was—posted up by the concessions like he’d been waiting just for them. He had that familiar crooked grin on his face, a beer in each hand, one of which he handed to Paul with a nod.
Matt looked like Matt always did—relaxed, sun-kissed, like he belonged in this world of rubber and roar. His Levi’s were soft from wear, and the Big Johnson shirt he wore probably should’ve been retired years ago, but somehow it worked on him. He had a way of making even the most ridiculous T-shirts look like part of his charm.
“Matt!” She heard herself calling out without even thinking. He looked up quickly, a flicker of surprise—and something softer—crossing his face when he spotted them.
“Didn’t know you were coming,” he said to her and Katrina while handing a beer to Paul.
She smiled, tilting her head slightly. “Last minute decision.”
Really, it hadn’t been last minute. She’d wanted to come all along. Wanted to see Matt. Wanted him to see her. And she’d asked Katrina to come too, because everything just felt easier when Katrina was around. Like her best friend absorbed some of the awkwardness, which gave her just enough courage, for what, she wasn't sure of just yet.
Paul didn’t say anything—just took the beer from Matt with a nod that barely registered. Matt looked past them at her, Rita could feel the shift in the air, the weird little pause that made her skin prickle. There was something there between him and Katrina. Rita had seen the way they'd exchanged looks on her porch. They hadn’t asked about it, but she’d noticed. She always noticed.
They made their way up the hill behind the starting box, choosing the soft grass over the crowded metal bleachers. Matt dropped down into a spot first, and Rita wasted no time settling right beside him. Her shoulder brushed his just slightly. She hoped he noticed.
Katrina plopped down on the other side of her, and for a moment, Rita felt sure Paul would follow and sit beside her. But no—he took the spot on the far side of Matt instead. Huh. Interesting.
Rita could already tell Katrina wasn’t enjoying herself. Her face gave everything away—always had. Katrina THOUGHT she was good at controlling her facial expressions but she wasn't as good as she thought she was. Rita thought for a second how nice it was that Katrina wasn't perfect. Right now her friend looked hot, restless, unimpressed. Rita smirked a little to herself. She couldn’t help it. Katrina might be pretty, but she wasn’t exactly built for loud crowds and dirt and cars that smelled like gas and adrenaline. This wasn’t her scene.
Rita was pulled out of her thoughts when Matt leaned past her catching Katrina’s eye. “Trust me, it gets better after dark.” Rita stiffened.
She hated how easily he smiled at Katrina. Hated how Katrina’s bored expression softened in response. It wasn’t fair. Katrina didn’t even want to be here. Rita had invited her. And now she had to sit there pretending not to care while Matt, her Matt, chatted up her best friend.
She stared out at the track instead. It was easier than watching them.
When Paul wandered off without a word, Rita noticed Katrina’s posture change, her expression clouding just a bit, and she felt a tiny flicker of satisfaction. So maybe Paul wasn’t the solid distraction Katrina thought he’d be. Maybe she'd have to sit with that disappointment a little.
The sky dimmed, the air cooling as the sun dipped away. The track lights kicked on, casting everything in an electric, artificial glow. The smell of burnt rubber filled the air, and the sound of engines revving climbed higher.
“You might want to plug your ears now,” Matt said, loud enough to be heard over the building roar.
Rita turned toward him, lips parting to respond—but the words were lost as the first Top Fuel dragsters exploded down the track.
The sound hit her—deep and physical, like thunder straight to the chest. It vibrated in her bones. She flinched, reflexively bringing her hands to her ears. Around her, the crowd roared, the energy shifting from idle anticipation to full-blown excitement.
Beside her, Katrina laughed. Not a fake laugh, not one of those light little chuckles she gave at parties when she was pretending to have a good time—this was real, unfiltered, loud. Rita turned toward the sound and felt her stomach twist.
Katrina’s eyes sparkled, her whole face lit up, and Matt was looking right at her—not Rita. Her.
And in that split second, something in Rita snapped. Not anger exactly, just…deflation. Like a balloon slowly losing air.
She looked away.
She didn’t want to see that moment—Katrina’s joy, Matt’s attention. She didn’t want to wonder what Matt was thinking, didn’t want to acknowledge the tiny, confused furrow between his brows when Katrina’s expression suddenly dimmed.
Because Katrina had noticed Rita’s look. She didn’t need to say a word.
The rest of the night blurred. The dragsters kept coming, louder and faster, but Rita wasn’t paying attention anymore. Her thoughts circled like vultures, snapping at the edges of her heart. She tried to keep her voice light, to laugh at the right moments, but none of it felt natural.
Friggin Paul never came back.
She waited as long as she could, but had no choice she leaned over to Matt with a practiced smile. “Paul left with that bar girl. Would you mind taking us home?”
Matt blinked, surprised. “Wait, he left?”
Rita nodded, shrugging like it didn’t bother her, because honestly, it didn't. “Yeah.”
“Of course I’ll take you both home,” he said, his voice warm. Concerned.
That was something.
In the truck, Rita slid into the middle seat before Katrina could even try. The gear shift pressed awkwardly against her the outside of thigh, she couldn't bring herself to straddle it like Katrina had done in Paul’s truck earlier, but she didn’t care. It was worth it to be next to Matt.
Katrina stared out the window, saying nothing.
The old truck speakers crackled out a Pam Tillis song, the kind that made Rita nostalgic in a way she couldn’t explain. Then Katrina started to sing—so soft it was almost like she wasn’t trying.
But Matt noticed. Rita felt the shift.
His smile was small, involuntary, and it landed square in Rita’s chest like a punch.
She didn’t say a word.
She just sat there, still and quiet, while the song played and the rest of the ride stretched out longer than it should have.
Paul liked the drag races. Always had. The smell of burning rubber, the roar of the engines, the way the ground shook when the lights dropped and the cars launched forward like rockets. It was the kind of noise that rattled your bones in the best way. When Matt invited him to meet up there earlier in the week—wasn’t racing or anything, just wanted to hang out—Paul didn’t need much convincing. A Saturday at the track beat just about anything else he might’ve done.
Rita tagging along hadn’t exactly been part of the plan. But when she begged him to take her and Katrina—sweetening the deal with a month’s worth of laundry—he couldn’t say no. He never could, especially not to Rita. Truth was, he’d probably have said yes anyway. A free pass on laundry just sealed it.
As for Katrina coming along… well, that was complicated.
She slid into the truck beside him like she belonged there. Close. Too close. She had that look again—that quiet confidence, the sense that she knew exactly what she was doing, even if she’d swear she didn’t. Katrina could flip on the charm like a switch. Sometimes she meant to. Sometimes it just happened. Either way, it worked.
He hadn’t planned on spending the afternoon thinking about the past, but she made it hard not to. A couple years ago, he’d have done just about anything for five more minutes alone with her. She’d been fifteen, almost sixteen. He was barely eighteen. The Ullmans had this patch of land behind their shed, just over the fence. Nobody ever went back there. That had been their spot.
There were nights when things got close—close enough that he thought maybe she’d finally let him in, really in. Emotionally, physically, whatever. But then, out of nowhere, she cooled off. Still smiled, still polite, but the spark was gone. And then came Seamus—that smug prick from down the street, she was 17 by then and he was 6 years olde. Still mooching off his parents, living in their basement, not paying rent, while working part-time at the feed store acting like he was something special. Paul never understood what Katrina saw in him. Maybe it was the car. Maybe it was the swagger. Maybe she just wanted someone who wasn’t Rita’s big brother.
He shifted in his seat. Her bare thigh brushed against his jeans. The gear shifter sat squarely between her knees, not helping anything. He kept his eyes on the road and both hands on the wheel, trying not to look. But of course, he looked. He always looked.
There was still something about her. The ease, the confidence, the way she took up space like she belonged in it. She never belonged to him, though. Not really. She let him close, but never all the way. Somewhere along the line, he stopped trying. Not because he didn’t want her—but because he’d come to understand that wanting was one thing but having was another and he was sure he'd never really have Katrina no matter how much wanted her.
Rita was chattering in the passenger seat, probably about music or who might show up at the track. Paul let the sound of her voice wash over him without really hearing it. He loved his sister. She was funny and awkward and deeply kind. Insecure about her weight, though he couldn’t understand why. To him, she was beautiful just the way she was. She didn’t know how to flirt, not like Katrina. When she tried, he would laugh inwardly at the attempts. He wished she would just be herself. She always came off looking like she was trying too hard.
He wished she knew she didn’t need to.
Paul turned up the radio—some Nirvana and STP—letting the music fill the cab and drown out everything else. But the loud music couldn't drown the scent of Katrina’s perfume. With the truck windows open the sweet, musky, familiar scent curled around him like memory and made it impossible to keep his mind on the road.
They pulled into the gravel lot and climbed out, weaving through the crowd. The place was packed. Engines roared, the sound reverberating through the metal bleachers and into his chest. Paul loved it. Always had. But even with the familiar adrenaline kicking in, his focus kept sliding sideways—toward Katrina, toward these feelings he hadn’t asked for but couldn’t seem to avoid.
Katrina looked too cute for a place like this. Tank top, cutoff shorts, sunglasses catching the light—she looked like summer. She looked like trouble. Like the kind of girl who could wreck you without meaning to.
They found Matt by the concessions, beer in hand. He reached out as Matt handed one to him.
“Didn’t know you were coming,” Matt said to the girls.
Paul took the beer and nodded, keeping it casual. He didn’t know if Matt cared about the girls being there, and he wasn’t going to ask—and truth be told he didn’t really care.
They bypassed the stands and headed up the hill behind the starting box. Matt dropped down onto the grass. Rita followed, settling beside him. Katrina hesitated, lingering like she wasn’t sure where to sit before sitting next to Rita.
Paul wasn't about to make it easier for her. He sat on Matt’s far side and stared straight ahead.
He saw the flicker of disappointment on her face. Tried not to. But he saw it. And yeah, he felt like a jackass.
Still, he wasn’t sure what he was doing anymore—not just with her, but in general. Katrina wasn’t his. Hadn’t been in a long time. Maybe never was. And if she wanted his attention now he wasn't going to make it easy for her. He was going to make her prove that she really wanted HIM. He was going to make her work for it.
He kept his eyes on the track, pretending not to notice the way Katrina’s expression shifted when she got bored. But he noticed that too. He always noticed.
Matt leaned in, said something to her. She nodded. Paul didn’t hear it. Didn’t need to. His jaw tightened.
Rita, for her part, didn’t say anything. But Paul could read her. He always could. Her posture was too still, her mouth too flat. The sunglasses helped hide it, but he knew. She wasn’t thrilled.
That was all it took. Protective brother mode kicked in, slow and steady. The way it always did when he could tell Rita was upset. He didn't need details. Didn’t need her to explain. Her silence said more than enough. And even if she didn’t say it out loud, Paul felt it like a punch—this subtle, invisible sadness that settled over her shoulders. It pissed him off. Quietly. Internally. The kind of mad that simmers beneath your ribs and makes you want to punch a wall—or maybe just do something reckless enough to forget.
Just before dark, Paul got up and walked away. No words, no excuse. He headed toward the pits, toward the possibility of distraction. Maybe that girl he met at the bar last week would be there. Maybe not. Either way, it beat sitting on that hill pretending not to see the war playing out beside him.
Katrina might’ve hoped he’d sit next to her. But Paul wasn’t here to play games.
Not anymore.
Matt liked the controlled chaos of the drag strip. The smell of high-octane fuel, the roar of engines that vibrated in your chest, the anticipation hanging thick in the air before two cars exploded down the quarter mile. It was a world of pure adrenaline, and he felt at home in it. One day, he’d have his own machine tearing up that asphalt.
He’d invited Paul to meet him out here. Just a casual hang, check out the local scene. He hadn’t expected company beyond that. So when Paul’s beat-up Ford pulled into the gravel lot, and Rita and… Katrina… climbed out, it threw him for a second.
Katrina. He hadn’t forgotten her smile on the porch. The way her eyes had flickered when he’d looked at her. There was something about her. An easy confidence that drew you in.
Paul just grunted a greeting, already scanning the crowd. Rita, though, her face lit up when she saw him. “Matt!” she’d called, her voice a little breathless.
He’d handed Paul a beer, a silent acknowledgment. Then his gaze had drifted to Katrina. She looked different here, less polished than on the porch. A faded tank top that showed off the curve of her collarbone, cut-off jeans that made his eyes linger a little too long. Even with worn-out sneakers, she had this effortless cool about her.
“Didn’t know you were coming,” he’d said, trying to keep his tone casual, his eyes flicking between the two girls.
Rita had smiled, that sweet, slightly shy smile of hers. “Last minute decision.”
Katrina had just offered a polite, “Hey, Matt.” But her eyes… they held a spark he remembered.
They’d skipped the crowded stands, opting for the grassy hill. He’d dropped down first, enjoying the feel of the warm earth beneath him. Rita had settled beside him quickly, a little too quickly maybe. He’d felt the brush of her arm and knew it wasn’t accidental.
Then Katrina sat on Rita’s other side, leaving a small space. He’d half-expected Paul to fill it, but Paul had planted himself on Matt’s other side, staring intently at the track.
The initial races were okay—loud, fast—but nothing like the Top Fuel stuff he really came for. He’d noticed Katrina’s boredom. Her expression was easy to read, a mixture of restlessness and polite tolerance.
“Trust me,” he’d said, leaning past Rita, catching Katrina’s eye. “It gets better after dark.”
She’d offered a small smile, but he sensed a lack of genuine enthusiasm.
Rita had stiffened beside him. He’d felt it, that subtle shift in her posture. He knew she liked him. It was obvious in the way she looked at him, the way she always tried to be near him. He felt a pang of guilt for even talking to Katrina when Rita was right there.
Then Paul had just… gotten up and left. No explanation. Just walked toward the pits. Matt had watched him go, a little surprised. That wasn’t like Paul.
Darkness had fallen, the track lights buzzing to life. The air crackled with anticipation.
“You might want to plug your ears now,” he’d warned, glancing at both girls.
Before either could react, the Top Fuel dragsters had screamed to life, a violent, earth-shattering roar. The sound had hit him in the chest, a familiar thrill. He’d glanced over at Katrina and seen her reaction—pure, unadulterated laughter. Her eyes were wide, her face lit up with the sheer force of it. It was… captivating.
Their eyes had met for a split second, and he’d felt a jolt. Something unexpected.
Then he’d noticed Rita. Her expression was… closed off. Disappointed. He hadn’t understood it. Had he done something wrong?
The rest of the night had been a blur of noise and lights. He’d tried to focus on the races, but his attention kept drifting to Katrina. There was an energy about her, a spark that he hadn’t noticed as much on the porch.
He’d been surprised when Rita asked him for a ride home. “Paul left with that bar girl,” she’d said, her voice surprisingly even.
“He… left?” Matt had asked, genuinely taken aback.
Rita had just nodded.
“Of course I’ll take you home,” he’d said, his mind racing. Paul had actually ditched them.
In his Ranger, Rita had slid into the middle seat before Katrina could even choose. The gear shift felt awkward against her leg. He’d found himself wishing it was Katrina beside him, her easy presence filling the cab.
Rita had tried to make conversation, but Katrina had been quiet, staring out the window. Then she’d started to sing along to the Pam Tillis song on the radio. Her voice was clear and sweet, and it had hit him in a way he hadn’t expected. A warmth had spread through his chest.
He’d glanced at Rita and seen her notice. The subtle tightening of her lips. He’d immediately felt like an idiot. He hadn’t meant to react so openly.
The rest of the drive had been silent. He’d kept his eyes on the road, the image of Katrina’s laughing face under the bright track lights replaying in his mind. There was something about her. He just couldn’t quite put his finger on it. Not yet.
Comments
Post a Comment