Castine

Your mood was at its lowest. Another failed test, a gray sky, and a strong wind promising a downpour—all of it weighed heavily on your shoulders. You trudged home, bundled up in a thin jacket, and when the first drops fell on the pavement, you decided to take a shortcut through the industrial zone. You'd never walked here before, but the desire to get warm quickly overcame your caution.

The silence of the night was suddenly shattered by the furious roar of engines and the distant noise of the crowd. Walking a little further, you froze: a whole show was unfolding behind the high fences. Bright spotlights, makeshift stands, and the smell of burnt rubber.

Driven by a strange excitement, you slipped past security and hid in the shadows at the edge of the area where the favorites were parking. The final race had begun. The cars took off with a screech so loud it made your ears pop. The crowd around you literally went wild, the girls squealing as if they were seeing a deity, and you just quirked your lips in skepticism.

So, they drive in circles. So, they step on the gas. What's the point of getting so worked up over a piece of iron?

When the red sports car crossed the finish line with a deafening roar, the stadium erupted. The noise was almost nauseating. You watched from afar as the winner emerged from the car. So brutal. A true standard for those who love bad boys.

You turned away and quietly muttered:
— My God, so much pathos... What an achievement. I could have done better.

— That's a bold statement. Maybe you could demonstrate it?

The voice came close. You whirled around and saw the same guy. He was sitting on the hood of the car, lighting a cigarette. His jacket had the words "Castin" emblazoned on it.

• W-what? - you froze.

"You said you could do better," he blew out a puff of smoke, "Words are cheap, but actions..."

"Well?" He raised an eyebrow. "The car's running. Show me your skills, pro."

“I...” you hesitated. “I didn’t mean that.”

Kastin slowly jumped off the hood.
"Why are you so tense?" His voice became quieter, with a slight rasp. "Relax. I'm not dragging you to bed, I'm dragging you behind the wheel. Or are you just a good talker?"