She smiled at him from the passenger seat. He was racing some new guy, she hadn’t bothered to catch his name. She only remembered the winner. Dominic. Everyone else called him Dom, they said Dominic was a mouthful. Her heart was pumping loud and hard, like the engine of his ’70 Charger. The sound of its engine was terrifying and exciting. She’d only wanted him to want her, then leave the next day. That’s how it worked. She got what she wanted and left. That’s nowhere near how it played out.
She’d been watching him for months. She’d turned down everyone else at the race. She looked behind her as someone bumped into her to congratulate the winner. When she turned back around after glaring at the older man, her prey was gone. She froze. Shit. Looking around her, she stopped short when someone whispered in her ear. A low, gravelly whisper.
“Looking for something?”
“You could say that.” He chuckled and stood straighter as she flipped around, hair hitting her bare shoulders. She’d worn shorts down to her mid-thigh and a cropped camisole. Her boots were tight around her calves, the leather hot in the sun. She looked away from his muscular body. Stay cool, dumbass.
“You know, if you wanted to meet me, you could have just said so.” He stuck his large hand out to her. “Dominic Toretto.”
She hummed. “Y/N Y/L/N.” She shook his proffered hand.
She smirked. “A bit. Not in a while.”
“How long’s a while?”
“Why don’t you find out?”
It’d been months since they’d met that summer. She raced more often now. She hadn’t won that race, or the one immediately after, but she’d caught up eventually. And she never wanted to back down. The car swung around as the race was finished, Dominic the winner, as always. She grabbed him before he could get out. He looked at her.
“I love you.”
“I love you, too.”
Who said it first? They’d never tell.