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idkdudethisisntpermanent

Oct 2, 2025

Over the Limit-pt.vii

jenna ortega x female reader

summary: More parties, races, and heart felts?! Go Bruins!

word count: 9k

————

The diner on campus buzzed with life, sunshine poured through the windows, casting everything in a golden glow, like the universe itself was saying, “Hey look at this beautiful day full of endless possibilities!”

It was the kind of morning that screamed optimism.

Maybe someone would ace a test they didn’t study for. Maybe someone else will finally make a move on their crush. Hell, maybe that one guy in the corner would finally figure out how to eat a breakfast burrito without it falling apart.

But maybe optimism wasn’t the theme at a certain table.

“Can someone pass the syrup?” Hunter asked, breaking the silence.

No one moved.

“Cool, I’ll just go fuck myself then.” He inconveniently reached across Aliyah for the syrup bottle.

Aliyah was quiet, bouncing her foot up and down while her sister was zoned out staring at the patterns students’ have carved on the table while waiting for their meal.

The tension at the table was unbearable, and you weren’t even there yet. Finally Jenna had enough of her sister’s leg bouncing and blurted out, “Aliyah what is it!”

“Did I fuck up Y/s/n?” She says without missing a beat.

“Y/s/n?”

"Yours and Y/n's ship name."

"There is no me and Y/n," Jenna says calmly.

"Yeah not anymore," Hunter says with a mouthful of food, entering the conversation.

"I told you to let loose, you wouldn't have danced with that guy if it weren't for me!" Aliyah panics, feeling immense guilt for the events of last night.

Jenna looks between her sister and Hunter bewildered with their words. "Oh come on guys! It's not like I fucking kissed the guy!"

————

The poolside lights shimmered on the water as Jenna sat with Markus. She wasn't the happiest when the group got separated, but her main priority was to keep an eye on Aliyah. Her brother had urged her to meet some of his friends and she complied. With the whirlwind of her life back in Summer Valley, she definitely missed a lot of his life in the last 2 years. The least she could do is get acquainted with his friends.

She hadn't missed the way you stiffened once she took her jumper off. You immediately turned away, hands flying to the back of your neck. It was quite adorable, you were a mess, and her wearing a bikini had been the cause of your unwinding. She had to thank Aliyah for the outfit later.

But you too had returned the favour, shedding off your extra layer, revealing parts of your body that were usually covered in a plain tee or rugged jacket. She couldn't believe you were hiding all that from her, and maybe it's the drink she's slowly sipping on talking, but she was having curious thoughts about your abs.

While one of Markus' friends was talking about something she could care less about, her gaze drifted to the bar.

She noticed the group of girls watching you like hawks, their attention fixed and intentions clear. Her focus shifted to you, standing near the bar, talking to the host of the party. Jenna raised her brow. Did it not bother you that he had openly expressed his interest in her? She thought she saw your jaw clench in frustration when he had taken her hand, but here you are in deep conversation with him.

Jenna felt a pang of something she wasn’t ready to name.

Aliyah slid onto the lounge chair beside her. "You're way too tense for a party. Live a little, girl." She nodded behind Jenna, where a guy had been eyeing her for the past ten minutes. "Go. Have fun. You deserve it. Who knows? It might push a certain someone to action," she smirks.

Jenna rolled her eyes and hesitated but eventually stood. She wasn't interested in the guy. Her thoughts kept wandering back to you. As he led her to the dance floor, she scanned the room, trying to find you, wondering if you could see her right now. Her heart jumped when she caught your eyes following her briefly before you turned back to the bar.

She moved with confidence, sauntering across the floor as though it was her stage, but her motive wasn't as bold as it appeared. All she really wanted was your attention. She didn't know how to ask for it directly—how to confront you and say what she felt. This seemed easier.

And then after some dancing she had to force herself to partake in—she spotted you.

You were on the dance floor now, with a girl pressed close to you. Jenna's heart sank. This wasn't what she planned. She wanted to provoke you, to make you react. But seeing you with someone else? She felt her blood run cold.

Her jaw tightened as she watched the girl drape herself over you, her hands trailing your chest, her lips dangerously close to your ear—maybe even brushing them. She laughed at something you said, and Jenna's stomach twisted. It took everything in her not to storm over, shove the girl away, and scrub every trace of her off you.

Jenna's retaliation out of jealousy was instant. And then so was yours. She hated the current circumstances, but she couldn't help but admit the slight giddiness she felt. Your retaliation meant that you cared. That you wanted to get a rise out of her, just as she wanted to get one out of you. Maybe you were jealous? And maybe the extent of your relationship was more than just racing politics.

But those thoughts quickly vanished as soon as her sights fell back on the girl slithering all across your body.

Jenna had enough. She turned back to her dance partner, got up on her tippy toes—god she curses herself for choosing a freakishly tall dance partner and stumbles as she places her hands on his shoulder so she doesn’t fall and whispers in his ear, “I got what I needed buddy, thanks for the dance.”

As soon as Jenna left the grasp of the guy she spun around with a new motive. She was done with the games. This back and forth was maddening, and she wanted to end the night with you, not someone else. She was going to dance with you. It was clear that this little bit both of you had going on was for each other. But once she glances at you, she stops in her tracks.

You were frozen.

The girl you’d been dancing with had stopped too, looking at you in confusion. Your expression was impossible to read—shock, hurt, maybe even relief. Whatever it was, it stopped Jenna in her tracks.

It was clear you had some big emotions going on, and Jenna was confused. You both were doing the exact same things? What caused the reaction?

Before she could process it, you turned and walked off without hesitation.

“Holy shit!” Aliyah’s voice pulled Jenna out of her daze as she sprinted over.

Markus joined moments later, wide-eyed while Hunter walked over to you.

“That was the scariest thing I’ve ever seen.” Markus said, his voice shaking. “And I’ve seen Aliyah try to parallel park.”

Jenna frowned, confused. “What just happened? Why did she—what’s going on?”

None of them answered. All Jenna knew was that something had changed, and it was big.

————

"Wait does she think I fucking kissed him?" Jenna panicked looking at Hunter and Aliyah with wide eyes. "What did you two talk about?" She fires at Hunter, hoping to get some more insight of what was going on in your head.

"Why would it matter if Y/n thought you kissed him?" He asks, taking a sip of his orange juice and turning to the girl.

Jenna sputtered, her mind racing. "Because—because it's not—" She paused, realizing what Hunter was doing, and the dangerous territory she was entering.

But Hunter wasn't done. "Come on, Jenna," he pressed. "If you wanted to make her jealous, you've got to own it. You're both obviously playing some game here, but at least admit it to yourself that you care."

"You know what?" Jenna said, shaking her head. She was ready to end the night with you last night—to dance with you. Admitting this to her friends wasn’t going to kill her. "Fine. I do care. But the point is, I didn't kiss that guy." She shot a sharp look at Aliyah. "Does she think I kissed him?" she asked Hunter again, her patience running thin.

Jenna huffed, her face flushed with the weight of her own admission. She couldn't shake the feeling that part of her hoped you'd walked off because you were jealous, that you were feeling the same rush of frustration and desire that had been building up inside her. But then another, more terrifying thought crept in. What if you thought she'd kissed the guy and now wanted nothing to do with her? The idea left a bitter taste in her mouth.

But the part that really scared her—the part she didn't want to acknowledge, was the chance that maybe you didn't care about her the way she wanted you to. That maybe it was foolish of her to even think you'd walk off because of her, or because of anything related to her. The thought of it twisted something deep in her chest.

Hunter sighed. "I think you're both just too stubborn to admit what's obvious to everyone else." He glanced at Aliyah, who nodded, silently agreeing. "You two are so clearly wrapped up in each other's heads. Just talk about it already."

Jenna's fingers were gripping the edge of the table. Her heart was pounding. All she knew was that she couldn't keep pretending this didn't matter.

Hunter frowned, noticing the girl's distressed state. "Look, the last thing I want to do is to put words in Y/n's mouth, but don't worry, she knows that you didn't kiss that guy. I think she was just feeling overwhelmed. I don't know how she's feeling this morning after everything but I urge you to talk to her, because I am sick of this shit."

And with that Markus and you both walk into the diner.

————

You sat rigid, your coffee untouched, the events of last night replaying in your mind on loop. Everyone had hoped that a night's rest would dampen the feelings of the night prior. You were pissed last night, so much that you didn't even spend the night at Markus' dorm once the party was over. You crashed the night at Darius'—the host of the party, and Markus joined you since he didn't want to leave you alone. Darius was unsurprisingly very understanding as he saw what happened first hand.

When you and Markus arrived at the diner to meet the rest of the group for breakfast, your eyes immediately found hers.

She looked up at the same time, like she’d been waiting.

You forced yourself to break eye contact, and slid in the booth next to Hunter while Markus grabbed a chair to sit at the head of the table.

Jenna cleared her throat, her voice softer than usual. “Hey.”

You hummed, nodding once. Not cold, not dismissive, just careful.

"I feel like we're always eating pancakes," Aliyah says, trying to make small talk. Opting for some safe conversation, knowing what she said makes absolutely no sense since this is only the second time you've all had pancakes together.

"Everyone loves pancakes. They're neutral. Safe. Unlike, oh, I don't know... last night." Hunter shrugs. Aliyah groans, burying her face in her hands. Of course, he would turn the simplest of words related to the topic everyone was trying to avoid.

Markus mutters, "Honestly, I'm kind of impressed by how bad that was." Hunter grins, unbothered. "Thank you. I try."

Jenna’s eyes never left you. “Y/n,” she tried again, more cautious this time. “Can we…talk? After?”

Your chest tightened. The part of you that wanted to keep her at arm’s length wrestled with the part of you that had spent all night thinking the moments you shared this last month, her laugh, the undeniable chemistry between you both, her moves on the dance floor, the way her eyes had searched for you before everything went sideways. You quickly looked at Markus, who gave you a nod, alluding to the conversation you, him, and Darius had the night before.

You finally looked at Jenna, really looked. Her face was a mix of nerves and determination, like she was ready to fight if she had to, but terrified of losing you in the process.

And you couldn’t be mad at that. Not when she looked at you like that.

“Yeah,” you said quietly, clearing your throat, you add. “We can talk.”

Jenna’s shoulders eased, with a slight smile.

Hunter smirked to himself. Aliyah kicked him under the table. They both knew what this meant. The ball was finally rolling.

Jenna kept looking at you, clearly itching to say more—anything to air her frustration from last night or spark a reaction she could use to get more words out of you. But you didn't so much as glance her way after that. Instead, your focus was glued to your phone, your fingers moving steadily as you texted someone. Her annoyance simmered into anger, her mind racing with possibilities. Who were you texting? Was it that girl from last night? Did you get her number? The thought alone made her grip her fork tighter.

"Anyways," you mutter. "I think it's time we have the conversation that we tried to have yesterday morning."

"Uhm yeah sure," Aliyah agrees to your suggestion breaking the awkward silence at the table.

You take a deep breath, your focus sharpening. "I was just texting Madison. Apparently there was a break in at the garage," you say, directing your words toward Hunter.

His expression shifts instantly. "What the fuck?" he mutters, caught off guard. "Do they know who did it?"

Jenna doesn't react to the break in at all. She's too focused on the mention of this Madison character.

"Nope," you say, shaking your head. "Of course, the cameras only seem to work when I bring a girl to the garage." You roll your eyes, nodding toward Jenna, who still hasn't said a word.

"They take anything?" Aliyah asks.

"Surprisingly no," you admit, flipping your phone around to show them the image Mikey had sent just moments ago. A dark red smear stretches across one of the empty walls of the garage, the paint thick and uneven—almost like blood.

'Back Off'

The table falls into an uneasy silence. There's no mistaking what this is. A threat. A warning.

"Damn, is this play about us?" Aliyah mutters, breaking the tension.

"Probably," you exhale, running a hand down your face. "After that meeting, I doubt it's about anything else. Apparently the crew's ready for war, and Anton? He's losing his fucking mind."

The silence around the table is thick. You exhale, steadying yourself. "And there's more."

Jenna and Aliyah exchange a glance, already sensing where this is headed. But you know they don't know the entirety of it.

"So, the meeting," you start, your voice low. "What we heard there? That was real shit. Pushing Ghostsmoke onto our streets—it's gonna affect our families. And I don't know what this means for the crew," you glance at Hunter. "I have no idea what it means for Brimstone. And I sure as hell don't know who's gonna get caught in the crossfire."

"Did you recognize any of the guys there?" Aliyah asks, glancing between you, Hunter, and Jenna. "The Raven douche," you roll your eyes. "The one who was hitting on... the one I raced against." You quickly correct yourself, glancing at Jenna and back in front of you.

"And of course, Percy was there too," Jenna adds with a slight sneer.

"How do those two know each other?" you ask her, genuinely curious. "Do Vipers and Ravens have history?"

Jenna feels a pang in her chest at how easily you're talking to her now. It's like nothing happened. No tension, no jealousy. Just... normal. She pushes the hurt aside and tries to stay logical. You both are single, you both are allowed to dance with others. You don't owe each other anything. You're allowed to act like this.

"It's always just been friendly competition with the Ravens," she says. "Nothing like the tension with the Sinners though. But I've always thought the Ravens had some sort of grudge against us."

"What? Why?" Hunter asks, raising an eyebrow. "It's just always been a thing," Jenna shrugs. "Anyone from Ridgewater and Summer Valley—it's like a rivalry. Every town around here hates each other. Don't worry, Brimstone isn't the only one."

Markus speaks up then, breaking his silence. "I don't know much about what's going on right now, but I do know that it's always been about money. Summer Valley's always been top-tier, the richest of the rich. Ridgewater's a close second, but being second place stings more than being last like Brimstone, you know?"

He shoots a playful glance at you and Hunter. "It's like they're almost there but just can't quite get over the line, so they stay polite, keep up the rich people front like they're supposed to, but it's clear. They can't stand being second."

The gravity of the situation settles in, and for a fleeting moment, the tension between you and Jenna feels like it's been pushed aside, though the unspoken weight of it lingers in the background. Neither of you is sure where this fragile truce will lead. You take a deep breath, steadying yourself. The next part wasn't easy to say, but they needed to hear it. The stakes weren't just abstract—they were personal.

"There's something else," you begin, your voice faltering slightly. "Families have already been caught in the crossfire of this operation." Hunter's expression hardens, a flicker of understanding crossing his face. You hesitate, your gaze lingering on Jenna a moment longer than necessary. She doesn't break eye contact, her searching eyes piercing through your defenses like she was trying to decode every one of your thoughts.

The oldest Ortega had already mentioned to you in passing that she told her younger siblings about your father and Anton's being the founders of the Sinners. So you were grateful they weren't missing too much context.

"...they started it for fun but it became a way to survive, to give Brimstoners a chance at something better," you explain, your tone heavy with meaning. "But...they're both gone now. And I can't help but think that what happened to them wasn't just bad luck." You make note of their concerned faces and continue. "During that meeting, they mentioned something about not wanting a repeat of Bullet and Apex," you continue, your fingers tapping lightly against the table. "Did either of you catch that?"

Aliyah nods. "Yeah. Didn't think much of it at the time, though." You glance at Jenna before looking down at your hands. "My dad's racing name was Bullet. And my uncle, he was Apex." Your voice falters, but you push through, the weight of the memory haunting you.

"For the past eleven years, I believed it was just a freak accident. My dad was driving—it was during one of those crazy races he was known for. He always pushed the limits, reaching speeds that no one else dared to. Anton's dad was riding passenger that night. I thought... I thought he just lost control. That's why they crashed. Those are what the reports said."

Jenna's eyes widen, a flicker of realization sparking in her gaze. It clicks—something she hadn't connected until now. She remembers watching you during the Raven race, noticing how deliberate your driving was. You weren't reckless, weren't pushing the pedal to the floor like everyone else around you. Even in all the times she's ridden in the car with you, she recalls how meticulous you were, never straying above the speed limit. And now it all made sense. You don't go over the limit. Not on the track, not on the road, not anywhere. It wasn't just a choice—it was a line you refused to cross, a boundary etched deep into who you were. And hearing it now, understanding why, gave the phrase a weight she hadn't realized before. It wasn't just a habit, it was a scar.

She didn’t realize how bang on her read on you was, the night you both stole the Aston.

"I'm sorry, I don't even know if I'm rambling or making any sense," you lightly laugh at yourself, unable to get your thoughts in order. "I don't have all the pieces yet, but I'm starting to think their deaths weren't accidents. That this whole...Ghostsmoke thing? It's connected."

You pause, your gaze flickering toward Jenna without thinking. Her expression once frustrated, now carries a softness you hadn't expected. Concern lingers in her eyes, and though you hadn't intended to, you find yourself drawn toward her, seeking an anchor in her presence. "It's not just about the drugs," you finally say, your voice firm despite the tremor underneath. "It's bigger than that. It's about control. About power. And somehow, my family—my dad, my uncle—they're at the center of it."

Your goal today wasn't to scare them, it was to protect them. It always had been. You dragged everyone into this mess, and they deserved to know that lives were at stake.

Aliyah frowns, her voice hesitant. "Are you sure you're ready to dig into this? If what you're saying is true, it sounds like some dangerous people are involved." You glance at Jenna one last time before responding, her quiet presence giving you the strength to say what needed to be said. "I don't think I have a choice anymore."

Then, turning to the group, you add your final words to the discussion. Though directed at everyone, you mean them for one person in particular. "More importantly, I need you all to know that it's okay to back out now. This is my problem. I don't want anything happening to you—" you hesitate, correcting yourself, "—to you guys."

"We're in," Jenna says immediately, her voice steady. Her siblings exchange glances before nodding in agreement. She knew she didn't have a choice anymore either. She cared about you.

————

"I don't even know if I have the right to be upset with her anymore," Jenna sighs.

After paying the bill at the diner, the group decided to take a walk through UCLA's campus, letting both the meal and the weight of their conversation settle. Naturally, they split into two groups—Jenna and her siblings lagging behind while you and Hunter walked ahead, about twenty paces in front.

"Why not?" Aliyah quirks a brow. Jenna squints at her sister, dumbfounded. "She literally just opened up about her dead dad. About how our lives are in danger. We have way bigger things to worry about!"

Aliyah shrugs. "People fall in love during the apocalypse, Jenna. If Katniss could have a romance while the world was literally crumbling, then so can you." She pauses, letting that sink in before continuing. "Besides, she's not innocent in this either. You're both dancing around each other, even with all this Sinner drama. If she truly thought now wasn't the time for a love life, she wouldn't have indulged in whatever this is."

"And look—she doesn't even seem that upset!" The three of them glance ahead. Hunter is practically bouncing on his feet, grinning about something you just said, while you shake your head with a small, reluctant smile.

"Just have a chat with her," Markus mumbles, offering his two cents. "But you're allowed to be upset." Suddenly Aliyah stops walking and pauses. The other two turn to look at her in confusion.

“You do technically realize that you and admitted you have feelings for Y/n right?” Jenna ignores Aliyah's romance comment, but Markus's words linger. Her thoughts drift back to last night—to you spending the night with Markus and the host of the party. There's no way you didn't talk about her. She turns to Markus' retreating figure. "Tell me everything that happened last night."

————

“I’m proud of you,” Hunter pats you on the back. “I know that wasn't easy, opening up to the group like th—"

"I have feelings for Jenna," you interrupt.

Hunter blinks. And then he blinks again.

He lets out a short laugh—because for a second, he thought you just said you had feelings for Jenna. But when you don't take it back, don't laugh it off as a joke, and you just stare at him confused, his smile falters.

"Oh. Oh, you're serious?" Hunter stops mid-step. "Finally!" He throws his hands up like you just told him the best new of his life. "Halle-fucking-lujah!" He shouts jumping up and down.

"Bro, chill," you mumble, trying (and failing) to hide a smile. "She's right there."

Hunter ignores you, too busy basking in the moment. But then, as if a thought suddenly hits him, he freezes and squints at you. "Okay, hold up. As happy as I am to finally hear you admit it, this is coming outta nowhere." He points at you. "I've been trying to get you to say this forever, and just yesterday you were still in full denial mode. What the hell happened?"

You sigh, he was right and admitting this outloud was already so difficult for you and so out of character. You were aware you were a flight person not a fight. And after acknowledging your feelings you realized how in denial you were, neglecting your own feelings. "I guess last night was a slap in the face," you admit. "And I don't know... just seeing her with that guy, I—I couldn't stand it, man. It was killing me. I didn't want to see her with anyone else. I wanted her to be with me the way she was with him."

Hunter nods like he's soaking in every word. "I'd just like to point out that I have been telling you to bag your girl before someone else did. But please, continue."

You roll your eyes with a laugh. "Anyway. Markus and Darius were talking to me about everything. And Darius kind of touched on it at the party, but I guess I have the thing all these college kids are chasing. He was saying how I was about to lose one of the best things to ever happen to me just because I was too stubborn to accept it. And that if I actually did something about it earlier, she probably wouldn't have danced with that guy."

Hunter nods again, looking way too pleased. "Ah yes, wise words. Also exactly what I've been telling you this whole time. But hey, I'm so glad all it took was a trust fund frat boy to finally get through to you."

"Awh are you jealous Hunt," you nudge him teasingly. "But hey relax it wasn't just that. Ever since the meeting, I've been thinking. And when Mikey sent me that message last night about the break in. I realized I have to stop being scared. This is my problem. I can't keep cowering away from the questions and uncertainties. I need to know what happened to my dad Hunt."

"I’m glad you’re ready to face this. Avoiding it was only holding you back. But don’t you think you’re changing a little too fast?"

"Time’s not on my side, man. I’ve already wasted too much of it being scared and confused. I need to act," you say, voice firm, though you aren’t sure if you’re talking about Jenna or street racing.

Hunter watches you carefully, pleased by your determination but still finding your sudden shift strange. He decides to let it slide—for now.

"So… you’re not mad at Jenna?" he asks.

"Oh no, I’m fucking livid. What the fuck! I thought she was actually gonna kiss that bastard," you fire back, exasperated.

Hunter bursts out laughing. "Dude, it did not seem like that at all. You did not look like you cared," he points out with a shrug.

"Yeah, because I also realized she has the right to do whatever she wants, Hunt. She’s not mine," you mutter the last part. “And I had this whole plan to show up this morning all angry, but I saw her face… and—yeah,” you sigh with a smile shaking your head.

"By the way, who was that chick?" He smirks, amusement dancing in his eyes. "That was so unlike you." He chuckles, clearly enjoying this way too much. You just groan wishing you could jump forward to the time where you don't have racing drama and girl drama.

You dismiss Hunter’s question, not wanting to entertain the idea of this other girl. And he immediately fires his next question. "So when are you telling her?"

“When are we telling who what?” Aliyah’s voice suddenly interrupts, as she shoves her way in between you and Hunter. And before you knew it, you three were the ones lagging behind, as Markus and Jenna were now ahead.

“Uh-uhm when are we gonna tell the group that we have an entire day to kill and have nothing planned? Yeah nothing planned,” Hunter awkwardly makes up, shooting you a wink that equated to nailed it, she suspects nothing.

You roll your eyes and look ahead. Up front, Jenna was all smiles while talking to her brother. She was skipping and hopping side to side, all over the path you were on pointing at buildings and signs, speaking animatedly about god knows what.

Never has she smiled like that in all the time that you’ve known her. Not once in Summer Valley nor Brimstone.

“She sure does know her way around here huh?” You say to no one in particular.

The younger Ortega sighs. “She probably misses it. Even though she was only here for a semester.”

“Wait Jenna went here?” Hunter asks, stealing your exact thoughts.

“Briefly. Then all that Percy stuff happened, and she dropped out to come back home to me.”

Hunter noticed the guilt in the girl’s tone and immediately changed the subject.

But all you could think about was how there was this completely different side to Jenna. A girl with plans, college dreams, and something beyond street race crews. For a second, the thought almost spooked you. There was a time when that kind of discovery would’ve sent you running, it was proof that you didn’t really know her. But instead, you found yourself leaning in. Curious. Wanting to know it all. What she studied. Why UCLA. If she joined clubs. If she had a favorite corner of campus.

You wanted to know everything there was about her.

Somehow while aimlessly following Markus and Jenna, the group ended up in an empty lecture hall. Markus explained that since it was the summer semester now, more classrooms were bound to be empty.

Like troublemakers, you and Hunter bolted up the steps to the back row, collapsing into seats side by side

“Did you ever wanna do college?” You ask Hunter, getting comfortable in your seat.

“Yes and no,” he smiles. “Not for education. I wanted the parties. The hookups. The freedom. Just… being reckless without consequences, you know?”

You hummed in agreement. That tracked. He flicked the question back at you.

“If anyone in Brimstone was gonna make it out, it was you,” he laughs, knocking your noggin. “Being the mechanic that you are with no formal training is insane.”

“I don’t know what else I’d even do,” you admitted. “The freedom here sounds nice, but… I wouldn’t know what to study. What I’d even be here for.”

“Well in an alternate reality you’d be driving up to see your hot college girlfriend,” he muses while looking at Jenna down at the podium with her siblings.

“That would be nice.”

“Damn, no defensiveness?”

“No,” you mumble into your arm. “I’m really tired Hunt.”

He looks at you sensing you’d elaborate.

“Even though last night made my heart drop to my ass. It felt nice having my biggest problem be that the girl I liked was dancing with someone else. I felt like my age for once. It wasn’t only about survival.”

“Hopefully soon it’ll all blow over. I have a feeling it will,” your best friend offers with a pat on the back. “And worst case scenario, you boost another car and we leave the city driving off in the sunset,” he laughs.

“We?”

“You’re not ditching me,” he says sternly.

Before you could argue, Jenna started up the steps towards you and Hunter as her siblings left the classroom. You look at your hands, wanting to avoid eye contact.

“Hey Hunter, is it cool if…?” She starts.

“Absolutely,” Hunter said, way too quickly, and practically launched himself down the steps.

It was then just you and Jenna in the dim lecture hall. Surrounded by over 500 empty seats. You wait for her to say something, but it doesn’t come. And for some reason you recall the Jenna you met on day one. The one full of sass and comebacks, and not letting you let your guard down for even a second. That’s the same girl who can’t even get a word out to you right now.

“Aliyah told us that you used to go here,” you break the silence.

The shorter girl smiles, “Yeah, two years ago before it all went down with the street racing stuff. Only for a semester though, I didn’t even get to write my finals.”

“What’d you study?”

“English.”

That surprised you. You turned to look at her fully. “Really? What was the plan after that?”

She hesitated. “Write things, I guess.” A blush crept into her cheeks. She was protective of this, you could tell. “Articles. I wanted journalism. But committing to something that specific? It felt too final. So… English.”

“I can see that, you always have an opinion. Always piecing things together, speculating, pulling threads. You’ve already kinda been doing the whole insider thing journalists do, getting the hot goss,” you teased, trying to ease her nerves.

She just hums with a polite smile, not really present in the convo. Before you can ask what’s wrong she speaks.

“Why aren’t you angry with me?”

“Do you want me to be angry?” You raise a brow at her.

Jenna groans putting her face in her hands. “I want you to tell me or at least show me what you feel.”

“I don’t have the right to be upset,” you sigh. “You don’t owe me anything Jenna.”

“You know I didn’t kiss that guy right?”

Oh. So we’re doing this, you tell yourself.

“Yeah I know,” you say calmly, staring back into her eyes that were looking at you.

“Then why didn’t you come back to Markus’ dorm last night?” Her frown deepened, scanning your face like she was bracing herself.

You inhaled sharply, weighing every word like it might tip the scale between building something with her and wrecking it completely.

“I think I was scared.”

Jenna looks at you intently waiting for you to continue.

“I thought you were going to kiss him,” you admitted.

Her gaze drops to her hands, her jaw tightening with shame, like the admission alone hurts her.

You take a breath, steadying yourself. “But what scared me wasn’t the idea of you kissing him. It was how much it scared me. It made me realize just how much I care about you. And that… that shook me. I didn’t know what to do with it. So I panicked. I walked away because I thought if I stayed, you’d see right through me—and I wasn’t ready for that.”

There’s silence, the kind that sits heavy. Jenna lifts her head then, her expression soft and vulnerable in a way you’ve never seen before.

“I didn’t kiss him,” she whispers, almost pleading. “I didn’t want to. The only reason I even danced with him was—god, it sounds so stupid—because I wanted your attention. I wanted you to look at me and care enough to do something about it. And when you walked away… I thought I’d ruined everything.”

Your chest aches at her words. “You didn’t ruin anything. I was just… overwhelmed. I’ve been through a lot, Jenna. Survival’s always been the only thing on my mind. But last night? For a second, the biggest problem in my world was the girl I like dancing with someone else. And that scared the hell out of me. Because it felt… normal. And normal isn’t something I know how to hold onto.”

Jenna’s lips part, her breathing uneven as she takes you in. She looks like she wants to reach out, to close the space, but she doesn’t. Instead, she lets her hand hover on the desk between you, close enough that you can feel the warmth radiating off her.

“I like you too,” she finally says, her voice trembling but firm. “More than I should. More than I know how to admit most of the time. And it sucks, because all I want to do right now is kiss you and forget about everything else.”

Your eyes drop to her lips instinctively. For a long, suspended moment, you’re both caught there, gravity pulling you together. But neither of you move. You both know why.

You force yourself to lean back, though every nerve in your body screams against it. “Maybe… after all this racing shit blows over, we can give it a real chance. You and me. No distractions. Just us.”

Her eyes soften, but the disappointment lingers, clear and heavy. She nods slowly, swallowing down the same ache that’s pressing against your ribs. “Yeah. After. But don’t think for a second I don’t want it now too.”

The words hit you like a sucker punch. Heat rushes up your neck so fast you swear you’re going to combust. Want it now too? You’re dying. Absolutely dying. Your brain short-circuits, your heart sprints like it’s doing laps around the track

You manage to force out a weak laugh, though it sounds more like a wheeze. “Cool. Totally fine. Not dying at all over here.”

“Oh and just so you know I’m pissed you danced with that girl.” Jenna rolled her eyes giving you a playful shove.

You were going to say something in defense, but she smiles at you, that quiet, knowing smile—and you know you’re done for.

————

The walk back from the lecture hall was quieter than you expected. You found yourself lagging behind Jenna just a few steps. She walked confidently to the group, but there was a softness in her eyes now. You kept your hands stuffed in your pockets, pretending to be casual, but your chest felt heavy.

She wants it too. She wants me too. And she can’t have me right now.

And it was your fault that nothing is happening now. You were the one that told her to wait till you deal with the racing politics.

Every step was a battle between wanting to turn around, grab her hand, and just kiss her, and the knowledge that now wasn’t the time.

Hunter, ever perceptive, threw a glance your way. “You okay, man?”

“Yeah, fine,” you muttered, trying not to sound like you were dying inside.

Jenna, a few feet ahead, glanced back at you. You felt heat rise to your cheeks and quickly looked forward again. God, you could die here and now from the sheer idea of this girl returning your feelings.

The rest of the day passed in a blur. The group snuck into some lectures. Lunch was light and awkward, you couldn’t stop thinking about her.

Hunter tried to keep the mood light, teasing you whenever you drifted off into thoughts that had nothing to do with lunch or campus tours. “Man, you’re a wreck,” he said with a grin. “Relax. She’s just a girl. A really, really distracting girl, sure, but still.”

Distracting doesn’t begin to cover it.

By late afternoon, the group decided to hit up one of Markus friend’s small backyard get together—string lights, music low enough to talk over, the smell of burgers on a grill. You trailed behind Jenna again, trying to pretend you were casually observing the setup. But you couldn’t help noticing how one casual sip from her drink made her seem lighter, more daring. Her eyes caught yours for a brief moment, and she tilted her head, a tiny smirk tugging at her lips.

One drink, and she’s already dangerous, you thought.

It soon became late, and the string of lights shone brighter against the dark night sky. Although you thought it was a small get together. The party was packed with college students, all looking for another night out.

You took a slow sip of your soda, leaning against the porch banister beside Hunter.

“So…you and Jenna, a thing now?” he asked, cracking open a fresh beer with a grin.

“Nope,” you said, letting the straw slip with an obnoxiously loud slurp.

Hunter groaned. “I hate you. One step forward, five hundred steps back!” He shook his head. “Seriously, what’s holding you up now?”

You don’t answer Hunter immediately as your phone starts buzzing, you check to see if it was anything important and pocket your phone. Giving your attention back to the party. You shrugged, eyes drifting toward the Ortega siblings laughing on the front lawn, each with a drink in hand. “I told her we should wait until all this racing shit blows over.”

Hunter whistled low. “Man… I can’t believe you. Tomorrow’s never promised.”

You turned to watch Jenna across the yard, the string lights making her glow as she animatedly talked to someone else. Guys were clearly circling, trying to catch her attention, but she wasn’t looking at any of them. And yet… she liked you.

You couldn’t help but laugh, a mix of disbelief and stunned amusement bubbling out. “Look at her… all those guys, vying for her attention. And she likes me?!”

The laugh felt like it released some of the tension you’d been holding all day.

————

Somehow you found yourself on the lawn with the crew. You laughed at something Jenna said, and for a brief moment, she leaned a little too close, brushing her shoulder against you. Your heart stuttered, and you felt your face heat up like a furnace. You shifted slightly, kicking your foot against the grass. She caught the movement and smirked, a teasing glint in her eye.

“Careful,” she said softly, leaning back just enough to give you a sliver of space, “or I might think you have a crush on me.”

Your brain short-circuited, and you mumbled something incoherent, your foot still nervously tapping. She laughed lightly, the sound warm and soft, before turning back to the group.

But before you could fully process the moment, Hunter shouted for you to help him grab some more beers. By the time you and Hunter started walking back to the group, arms full of drinks, a distant roar caught your attention.

You and Hunter looked at each other.

You really couldn’t escape this shit anywhere you go.

Cars. Multiple cars, engines revving in unison, tires squealing against the pavement, music blasting so loud it rattled the windows. Your stomach dropped—you didn’t even have to see the cars yet to know something was about to go down.

You pushed through the crowd, adrenaline kicking in as the noise grew louder. From a distance, you could hear the guys leaning against their cars, voices full of bravado.

“Who’s even gonna touch us tonight? No one’s beating this lineup,” one said, tossing his polo clad shoulders back with a smug grin.

You finally got a clear view as they circled in front of the house. Collars popped, pastel polos clinging to muscles they barely earned, sunglasses perched on their heads—even though it was nighttime. Total wannabe-bad-boy energy.

The entire party was quiet, watching what was happening. Then Jenna’s laugh cut through the tension, sharp and amused. “Oh, please. You act like no one outside your little frat lane could touch you.”

The guy’s smirk widened as he sized her up. “And what, you know someone who could?”

Jenna didn’t flinch. She took a casual step forward, her drink dangling lazily in one hand, eyes locked on him. “Yeah. I do.” She jerked her chin toward you before you even had a chance to react.

Every head swiveled your way.

Your stomach dropped. “Jenna—”

She just smirked, like she’d already won the argument. “She’ll smoke you.”

The guy laughed, but it was strained, irritation creeping into his tone. “Her? Please. I’d eat her alive out there.”

Something snapped in you at the condescension, maybe pride, maybe the way Jenna’s gaze burned into your side, daring you. Your mouth moved before your brain caught up.

“Then line it up. Let’s see if your car’s as loud as your mouth.”

Jenna’s grin widened, eyes sparkling with mischief. “Oh, this is gonna be fun.” She glanced at you again, that same teasing glint in her gaze that had you both dying a little inside just moments ago.

The guy’s friends muttered amongst themselves, clearly impressed—or terrified—but he just scoffed, clearly not used to being challenged like this.

You felt Jenna’s hand brush yours briefly as she leaned in, whispering just loud enough for you to hear, “Don’t hold back.”

Heat rushed to your face, your heart racing. You were sober, focused—but damn, her confidence and closeness had your nerves on fire. This was the Jenna you remembered meeting on the day of the Sinner Viper race. The one that didn’t care about the concequences.

The tension was electric, and you could tell this night was about to get messy…and exhilarating.

————

“Where the fuck am I gonna get a car?” you mutter under your breath, eyes scanning the driveway. The frat boys were already circling, revving their engines like they owned the streets, blasting music and showing off. Your stomach twisted, half dread, half excitement.

“Need a car?” an unfamiliar voice cuts through the chaos. It’s the host of the party, leaning casually against the garage door with a smirk. “I’ve got a car in the garage that’ll do the trick.”

You glance at him, skeptical. “Yours?”

He laughs. “Yeah. And between you and me, I’ve been waiting for someone to put these wannabe bad boys in their place. Everyone at this party is sick of their shit.” He gestures toward the frat guys, who are still strutting around like they own the block. “Go on, take my car. Show them what happens when you actually know how to drive.”

You dap the host up, and make your way towards his garage with your group. Was it just a UCLA thing, but why were these party hosts so hospitable? You shake your thoughts as soon as your eyes land on the car. A dark blue 95’ Volkswagen Jetta.

Hunter hollers in excitement, and you couldn’t help but grin. You were worried, not knowing what the host was offering up. But these killers were reliable, and you just confirmed your win.

The host claps you on the shoulder. “Trust me, they won’t see it coming. And bonus, if you win, you get to watch them squirm.”

Jenna rushes to you and takes hold of your bicep, with a spark in her eyes, “Go on. Show everyone here why they shouldn’t underestimate you.”

Everyone leaves the garage except Hunter. He lingers, hands shoved in his hoodie pocket, still looking at the Jetta like it’s holy ground.

“Dude, you cannot lose,” he says, grinning but dead serious.

You roll your shoulders, shaking out the nerves. “I won’t.”

He steps closer, lowering his voice like he’s asking something heavy. “Want me riding passenger? You know, backup hype man. Just in case.”

You glance at him, then at the Jetta. For a second, you consider it. But no—you need focus. Just you, the car, and the street.

“Nah,” you shake your head. “Not this one. I gotta do it solo.”

Hunter studies you for a beat. He gives your shoulder a squeeze before heading out.

————

The street was already coming alive, the crowd shifting to the sidewalks to clear the makeshift track. Engines roared, headlights cutting through the night, and the bass from someone’s speaker rattled windows.

Jenna stood near the start line, arms folded loosely, her drink forgotten somewhere inside. People shouted over each other, someone was going over the “rules”—basic stuff like: first to the end of the block and back wins, stay in your lane, no intentional ramming. The crowd was eating it up.

But Jenna wasn’t listening. Her eyes were fixed on you. The way you moved around the Jetta with sharp focus, adjusting the seat, checking the mirrors, rolling your shoulders like a fighter stepping into the ring. The nerves were there, but underneath them was something else—something that made her pulse quicken just watching.

Hunter sidled up next to her, arms crossed. He was grinning like a maniac.

“She’s about to experience the craziest racer’s high of her life,” he said, nodding toward you.

Jenna’s brows knit, lips tugging into a half-smile. “Racer’s high?” she asked, tilting her head.

Hunter just smirked knowingly, eyes still on you. “Yeah. You’ll see.”

————

Engines snarl side by side, headlights burning into the dark. The crowd closes in at the edges, phones raised, voices echoing across the street. Your palms are slick against the wheel.

Across from you, the frat boy revs obnoxiously, music pounding so loud his whole car rattles. He’s leaning out the window, flashing that smug grin at the crowd like he’s already rehearsed his victory speech.

The host of the party steps onto the street, arms raised high and explaining the track. The noise dies into a tense hum.

Your heart thuds. The wheel vibrates under your grip. You fix your eyes straight ahead.

Arms drop.

You launch. Tires shriek, smoke billows, and the car kicks forward hard enough to slam you back in your seat.

The frat boy lurches ahead, pedal to the floor, engine screaming like it’s begging for mercy. His car jerks side to side before he stabilizes, raw power but no finesse. You keep steady—smooth, measured, pulling just enough out of the Jetta to keep pace.

The street opens up in front of you, neon signs and streetlights streaking into blurs. People are screaming from the sidewalks, the sound muffled behind the glass, but you feel it vibrate in your chest.

Gear shift. The Jetta growls and surges, sliding closer, bumper to bumper with him now. He glances at you, throws a cocky little salute, and pushes harder. His car bucks forward, tires squealing dangerously.

You let him have it. For a second.

Then the turn comes.

He slams the brakes too late, his car fishtailing wide, cutting into the opposite lane. Gasps ripple through the crowd as he scrambles to pull it back under control.

You take it clean. Hug the corner like the street belongs to you. Tires grip, body leans, the motion sharp and fluid all at once. When you come out of the bend, you’re already ahead.

The frat boy’s still wrestling his car, but he guns it, desperate, clawing back the distance. You can hear his engine straining behind you, louder and louder, like a beast clawing at your heels.

Your veins light up.

It’s not fear. It’s something hotter. The rush. Every nerve on fire, every muscle alive.

Another stretch. You slam into the next gear. The world sharpens into streaks of light and shadow, and the Jetta roars like it was born for this moment.

The frat boy surges up beside you again, his face twisted, jaw tight. He’s reckless now, swerving too close, trying to scare you, shake you.

Instead, you smile.

And push just enough.

The finish is closing in—Aliyah’s voice booming in the distance, people screaming, waving, phones flashing.

You breathe, steady, and cut him off on the inside. Clean. Precise. A move so tight it leaves him choking on your taillights.

The line flies up fast.

You blast across it, brakes slamming, the Jetta sliding sideways in a sharp, controlled stop. The crowd erupts—cheers, laughter, someone even screaming “That’s how you do it!”

The frat boy screeches in a few seconds later, his car groaning like it might fall apart. The look on his face—red, humiliated—is worth every second

And then you see her.

Jenna’s already pushing through the crowd, eyes wide, lips parted like she can’t believe what she just watched. She doesn’t look at the frat boy, doesn’t look at anyone else—only you.

Your pulse kicks even harder, but it’s not just from the drive. It’s her. The way she’s walking toward you like there’s no one else here.

The racer’s high hits. A wild, dizzying cocktail of victory, adrenaline, and something hungrier, sharper. The world is still roaring around you, but all you hear is your own heartbeat. All you see is Jenna. You curse yourself, it was the exact same feeling you felt when you had your first race against the raven. But this time it was different. You didn’t need to control it—did you?

She stops right in front of you, close enough to touch, her chest rising and falling fast. For a second, you just stare at each other, the tension snapping tight.

And then you don’t think. You don’t plan. You just grab her face and kiss her.

The crowd howls, but it all fades when her lips press back into yours. Soft but certain. Electricity sparking between you, hotter than the race, stronger than the win.

For the first time tonight—ever, you feel like you’ve completely lost control, and you don’t care one bit.

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