The finish line loomed just ahead, and both racers had their pedals practically glued to the floor. Even the strategically ced hurdles didn''t make them ease up one bit.


    The final moments of any race are always packed with tension and thrills. Both cars were neck and neck, and the slightest dip in speed from either would spell only one oue: losing.


    As they closed in on the finish line, Mirabe''s fingers danced lightly on the steering wheel. She suddenly called out, "James."


    Her voice, just a whisper over the headset, caused James to ease off the gas for a split second, long enough to shoot a nce at Mirabe.


    Catching his eye, Mirabe shed a sly smile and started counting down, "I just wanted to say... looks like I''m about to win."


    With that breezy deration, Mirabe steered around thest obstacle and floored it, her car crossing the finish line first in a burst of speed.


    The screech of the brakes announced the end of the race with a cocky flourish.


    James''s car rolled to a stop just half a secondter. He nced at the time on the dashboard and chuckled quietly to himself.


    Mirabe cut the engine, tossed her helmet onto the passenger seat, and climbed out. Leaning casually against the car door, she shot a look over at James, still in his car, and raised an eyebrow, "I won."


    James took off his helmet and stepped out too.


    As he approached Mirabe, his handsome face showed not a hint of


    disappointment. Instead, with his usual calm and depth in his eyes, he nodded


    and said in a clear voice, "Congrats on your win."


    Mirabe touched her nose, unable topletely suppress her grin, and


    murmured, "All''s fair in love and war."


    James arched an eyebrow at her, paused, and gently smoothed down her slightly


    tousled hair before saying, "Well, now you owe me."


    Mirabe paused, then quipped, "...I''m broke."


    James chuckled softly, a ssic Mirabe reply.


    Mirabe faked a cough and nced at her watch, steering the conversation elsewhere, "It''s gettingte, let''s head back."


    James gave her a thoughtful look and agreed.


    Curtis and Wyatt strolled over, and James tossed them the keys to the sports car, giving them a few quick instructions before heading to the car he had driven there with Mirabe.


    As the car pulled away, Wyatt stood there, arms crossed, watching them leave. He couldn''t help but admire, "Ms. Mirabe''s quite something. Our James actually lost."


    Curtis, who had just unlocked the car, paused at Wyatt''s words, fixed him with a look, and scoffed, "And that''s why some folks can''t find a date."


    Didn''t you see he let her win on purpose?


    Even if he couldn''t take the win, he could''ve at least tied it.


    Wyatt''s cheeks twitched as he turned back to Curtis, "Why do you always end up


    getting personal? You talk about me, but what about you?"


    Curtis, uninterested in continuing, opened the car door and got in.


    Wyatt rubbed his nose, slightly embarrassed.


    **


    An hourter, they were back in the neighborhood.


    Mirabe had been resting her eyes since they got in the car, and eventually, she dozed off for real.


    James parked outside the vi and turned to her sleeping figure. He didn''t have the heart to wake her, so he switched off the lights and quietly turned up the heat.


    The only sound was her gentle breathing, and the car was wrapped in a serene stillness.