Racing Hearts

Alina lived for the rush. The roar of her motorcycle, the wind whipping through her hair, and the adrenaline that surged with every race. Speed was her drug, and winning, her only purpose. On and off the track, she was untouchable, fiercely independent, and too focused on her next victory to even think about love.

Then came the crash.

It wasn’t severe—just a slip, enough to bruise her pride and scrape her prized bike. Frustrated, she limped into the nearest garage, her mood black as the oil stains on the floor. That’s when she met **Rory**, the laid-back mechanic with grease-streaked hands and an infuriatingly calm demeanor. 

“Got a minute?” she barked, arms crossed as she waited.

Rory glanced up from under the hood of a car, barely acknowledging her sharp tone. “Depends on what you need fixed.”

He didn’t seem fazed by her reputation, her impatience, or the steely edge in her voice. As he slowly examined her bike, Alina’s irritation grew. 

“You’re never gonna win any races at that pace,” she snapped.

“Good thing I’m not racing,” Rory shot back, his eyes still focused on the work.

It wasn’t love at first sight. It was more like a collision of wills. Alina wanted speed, efficiency, instant results. Rory? He moved at his own deliberate pace, careful and methodical, refusing to rush anything, especially when it came to her bike.

But there was something about him that kept her coming back, despite her annoyance. His steady hands, the way he treated each machine like a piece of art—there was a quiet confidence in his approach that intrigued her. She found herself lingering longer after each visit, watching him work, even as they argued over everything from racing techniques to the music playing in the garage.

Weeks passed, and what started as constant bickering softened into something else. Alina began to appreciate Rory’s way of doing things, the way he saw her bike—and her—more clearly than anyone else had.

One evening, after a particularly heated exchange, Rory said something that shifted her world. “You’re always chasing speed,” he said, leaning against her bike. “Ever tried riding just for the sake of it?”

Alina rolled her eyes. “What’s the point of riding if you’re not racing?”

Rory smiled, shaking his head. “Meet me tonight. I’ll show you.”

Curiosity got the better of her. That night, under a canopy of stars, Rory took her to a secluded stretch of road—no crowds, no pressure, just the hum of their engines and the cool night air. For the first time, Alina wasn’t racing anyone. She was simply riding, and the freedom of it stirred something new in her.

When they finally stopped, sitting on the hood of his truck, Alina felt a quiet she hadn’t known she needed. Rory didn’t see her as the unbeatable racer, the woman everyone else feared or admired. He just saw her.

As the biggest race of her career loomed, Alina found herself pulling away. She needed to focus—love was a distraction she couldn’t afford. Rory noticed the shift, and one evening, he confronted her.

“Why are you pushing me away?” he asked, his voice low, but the hurt unmistakable.

“Because I can’t afford to be distracted,” she said, arms wrapped defensively around herself. “Racing is all I have.”

“That’s not true,” he said softly, taking a step closer. “You’ve got more than that—you just won’t let yourself see it.”

Race day came, and Alina was at the starting line, her heart pounding as the signal went off. She surged forward, faster than she’d ever gone, but something was different. The thrill wasn’t there. No matter how hard she pushed, it felt empty.

Halfway through the race, it hit her. She wasn’t racing to win anymore. She was racing to escape—to outrun what was happening inside her heart. In a split-second decision, she pulled out of the race and gunned it toward Rory’s garage.

When she arrived, breathless and still shaking, Rory stood there, surprise flashing in his eyes.

“You’re insane, you know that?” he said, a grin tugging at his lips.

“Maybe,” Alina said, stepping closer. “But this—racing, winning—it’s not enough anymore. Not without you.”

Rory’s smile softened, and he pulled her into a kiss that felt like finally crossing the finish line.

In that moment, Alina realized that love wasn’t a distraction. It was the real race—and one worth slowing down for.