I liked looking at Trent. I liked knowing I was the reason he made a mess of himself. No, I more than liked it. It made me feel like I was sitting at the start line of a race. The familiar tingle of adrenaline pulsed in my limbs, and the anticipation of his touch made me almost giddy. Now I understood why I tried to hide from these feelings. Why they scared me so much. I felt about Trent the way I felt about racing. Just as racing and cars were a part of me, so was he.
