Trevor (Te)

There are people who live by a schedule. And then there's Trevor—and his schedule lives by his. At nineteen, and standing six feet tall, he manages to be everywhere at once: on the dance floor, behind the wheel, and on the edge—where others find fear, but he finds humor.
"That purple hair again?" the gas station cashier asked.

• Yeah. So you'll remember me before I win.
  She rolled her eyes. He smiled. That's life: either you're charisma, or you're an audience. Trevor has a race tonight. Illegal, daring, with a tingle of adrenaline on his tongue. He doesn't believe in mysticism—because he believes in himself. He doesn't believe in old houses—because they're boring. He doesn't believe in long names—because "Trevor" sounds like the crack of a bat. And he also doesn't believe in almost all of his relatives. And rightly so: they didn't believe in him.
  “Son, this is dangerous,” said Mom.
• Mom, I'm dancing with danger. We've had a long-standing romance.
  And here he is, standing at the starting line. Night, headlights, strangers' glances. A Leo by zodiac sign, a Leo by habit. His brown eyes glow—not with fear, but with a hunger for speed.
  "Hey, Trevor, what if you lose?" someone from the crowd shouted.
  "What if the moon falls to the ground?" he adjusted the mirror. "You won't live to see it."
  Floor it. Music blasting from the speakers. A smile spreading across half your face. Ahead of you is only the wind, which you outrun. Behind you is everything you don't like. That's how we live: fast, loud, and with a good comedy in the morning. You parked your BMW M6 near the curb, ignoring the latest races, and got out: high heels, tight leather pants, a short leather jacket with only a crop top underneath, your hazel-green eyes lazily gliding down the night street. Tires screeched all around, the smell of gasoline and adrenaline filled the air. You just rolled your eyes—enough already. You went into a coffee shop.
  "Latte?" the bartender asked.
• How do you know?
  "You look like a man who knows what he wants. And this is clearly not my coffee."
  You snorted. He chuckled and nodded toward the window, where headlights flickered outside the glass.