Chapter 7
The morning of the race arrived with an almost unbearable tension hanging in the air. Alex stood in front of the mirror, adjusting his helmet and trying to force a smile. His reflection stared back at him—eyes too wide, nerves barely contained, but the facade was in place. He was going to be fine. He had to be fine.
His racing suit fit snugly, the familiar weight of his helmet felt like a shield against everything that was going on inside him. The logo of LNC was boldly emblazoned across his chest, a reminder of how far he'd come to get here. Yet, beneath the bravado, his heart was hammering. He couldn’t show that though. Not here. Not now.
As he walked to the track, he made sure his steps were firm and confident, his posture straight, giving off the appearance that he was in control. He wasn't going to let anyone see the doubt crawling up his throat, or the crushing weight of his insecurities. He wasn't going to admit how badly he wanted to back out, to stay in the shadows and pretend he wasn’t even in the race at all. He'd made it this far, hadn't he?
"Hey, rookie," came the familiar voice of Johnathan, breaking through Alex’s mental spiral.
Alex looked up, forcing a grin. "Don’t get too excited, old man. I’m here to win this thing."
John gave him a sidelong glance, the smirk on his face hiding a deeper understanding. "You sure you’re ready for this? You looked a little... off last night."
"I'm fine," Alex snapped a bit too quickly, though he quickly recovered with an exaggerated wink. "I’m always ready. I don't need anyone's help."
John’s expression softened, but he said nothing. Instead, he just gave a half-shrug. "Alright. Just don’t go too hard, okay?"
Alex hated the concern in his voice, the way it made his stomach twist. He hated the idea that anyone might think he wasn’t good enough to handle this. "I’ve got this. Trust me."
He turned away, wanting to escape before the layers of vulnerability began to peel away. He didn’t want to hear it. He didn’t want to feel like someone was waiting for him to fail. Not today.
The buzz of the crowd and the roar of the engines filled the air as Alex climbed onto his bike, gripping the handlebars a little too tight, like it was the only thing keeping him grounded. He adjusted his gloves with quick, almost robotic movements, his eyes fixed on the starting line. The track stretched out before him, challenging and dangerous, but it wasn’t going to stop him. He didn’t care about anything but winning—anything but the pressure to prove he belonged.
The countdown began.
Alex could feel the adrenaline surging through his veins as he revved the engine. He was ready for this. Ready to show everyone that he could do it. The words that John had said, the soft way he’d looked at him, the concern—it was all just noise now. Alex wasn’t about to let anyone see how badly he was struggling. He couldn’t.
Three. Two. One.
The race started.
Alex shot forward, the wind whipping past his helmet as he tore down the track. His body moved on autopilot, the speed of the bike matching the rush of his thoughts. Everything else faded—the crowd, the other bikers, even the growing tension in his chest. All that mattered was the track, the turns, and the speed.
He flew through the first few laps, faster than he’d ever gone before, riding on pure instinct. The engine roared beneath him, and for a split second, he felt invincible.
But then it hit him. The pressure. The expectation. The thought that he was never going to be enough.
A flash of doubt crossed his mind as he took a corner too tight. He fought the urge to pull back, to slow down, but the moment was gone too fast. He pushed harder, determined to ignore the aching in his muscles and the pounding in his chest. He wasn’t about to stop now.
Around him, the other bikers were catching up. Johnathan was already ahead, a blur of red and black against the track’s backdrop. Alex grit his teeth. No way was he going to lose to him—not today. Not when he had something to prove.
The sound of the engines around him, the crowd’s cheers, it all blurred into one single noise. Alex’s mind started to unravel, thoughts spiraling, but he clamped down on them. He couldn’t let them win.
He hit a jump at full speed, his stomach lurching as he sailed through the air, a fleeting moment of weightlessness before gravity yanked him back down. When he landed, his tires skidded, and for a split second, Alex thought he was going to crash. His heart jumped into his throat as his bike lurched, but he steadied himself at the last second, gritting his teeth in determination.
He was going to keep going.
The finish line loomed in the distance, and Alex pushed himself harder, the desperation in his chest growing with every second. He could hear Johnathan’s engine roaring beside him, the distance closing. No. Not like this.
He pulled ahead. Just barely.
And then, with a final burst of speed, he crossed the finish line, coming in second.
Alex barely registered the fact he’d lost to Johnathan again. The crowd cheered, but all Alex could hear was the pounding in his head, the feeling of failure swirling in his chest. The ride was over, but the emptiness remained.
He peeled off his helmet, breathing heavily, and stood there, trying to keep his expression neutral. As the others celebrated around him, Alex felt like he was drowning.
He had acted confident. He had told himself he didn’t need anyone. But now, standing in the aftermath, he couldn’t shake the feeling that he was wrong. And no matter how many races he won, that feeling wasn’t going away.
Alex stood there for a moment, the weight of his helmet still heavy in his hands. The sound of the crowd, the roars of his fellow competitors, felt distant. He could still hear Johnathan’s engine in his head—the sound of him winning, of his effortless skill. For a brief, frustrating second, Alex wanted to throw his helmet on the ground and walk off, but something else clawed at him, something more defiant, something that wouldn’t let him just slip away.
He slipped the helmet back over his head, tightening it with determination. Without a second thought, he revved his bike, the engine roaring back to life with a vengeance. He wasn’t done yet. Not like this. He didn’t care about the place he’d finished. He didn’t care if he came second again.
He gunned the throttle, his bike launching forward with unexpected speed. He darted through the crowd, cutting past the other bikers with a fluid grace that caught the eye of anyone still watching. The track was still hot, the dirt a perfect canvas to prove he wasn’t just another rookie. This time, he wasn’t racing to win. This time, he was racing to remind everyone that Alex was someone.
His bike swerved in and out of turns like he’d been riding it for years, every twist of the throttle, every shift of his weight, precise and controlled. The moves came naturally, almost as if the bike and the track had become an extension of himself. Alex took the hard turns with ease, clearing jumps with enough style to make the crowd pause in admiration. His focus narrowed, a grin forming beneath the helmet as he felt the familiar rush of control take over.
Johnathan, who had been walking toward the pit area, stopped dead in his tracks. He turned his head just in time to see Alex zipping past, cutting across the track with an arrogance that felt both familiar and infuriating.
“Hey!” Johnathan yelled, his voice laced with annoyance as Alex weaved around another turn. “What the hell do you think you're doing?”
Alex didn’t answer. He didn’t need to. Instead, he swerved past him again, this time doing a daring jump that made the crowd gasp, landing with a skill that made even the seasoned racers take note. The attention was no longer on Johnathan. It was all on him.
For a brief moment, the tension that had been building inside Alex snapped into a burst of exhilaration. He could feel the eyes of the crowd on him—on them, on his every move. The crowd cheered, a few shouts of admiration thrown his way, and Alex's heart raced faster than his bike ever could.
He didn’t need validation. Not really. But the joy of outshining Johnathan, even for just a moment, sparked something in him. Something that had been buried for too long.
Johnathan’s annoyed face appeared in his peripheral vision as Alex made his way around the track again, pushing his bike to its limits, savoring the feeling of outpacing everyone. He could see the tension in Johnathan’s jaw, the narrowing of his eyes as he watched Alex steal the spotlight.
Johnathan’s footsteps were heavy as he made his way toward Alex’s bike, arms crossed, a frown pulling at his lips. Alex, still buzzing with adrenaline, slowed down and came to a stop in front of him, the playful smirk slipping across his face.
“You’ve got a serious ego for a rookie, you know that?” John said, irritation thick in his voice.
Alex shrugged casually, not hiding the glint of satisfaction in his eyes. “What can I say? Gotta make sure everyone remembers who I am.”
John raised an eyebrow, his lips twitching as if trying to fight off a smile. “You’re a pain in my ass, you know that?”
Alex couldn’t help but laugh, the tension melting away for a brief moment. “I know, but you love it.”
John’s expression softened, just for a second, before he shook his head with a sigh. “You’re lucky you’re good.”
“I’m more than good,” Alex shot back with a wink, his voice playful. “But I’ll take the compliment anyway.”
John glanced over at the pit crew, then back at Alex, his tone suddenly serious. “Just don’t get too cocky. You’ve still got a lot to prove.”
Alex leaned forward, his smile unwavering as he looked at John. “Who says I’m not already proving it?”
And for the first time that day, Alex felt a little more like himself.