"Would you like to go out with me this Friday?"

Well, that happened fast. Is this how it normally happens? It took me a minute to comprehend that he just asked me out like it was a casual thing. It was a causal thing, I reminded myself. Was it? 

"Is this a... date?" I faltered.

"Yeah, that's what I was thinking," he let out a laugh.

"Oh, well, I'll have to think about it." I looked down at my hands that still had remnants of grease on them.

"Just let me know, okay?" he patted my knee and stood up from the bench.

I sat there for a few a minutes after he left. It was weird. I'd met Michael a few times before and he'd always seemed indifferent to me. Nice of course, but indifferent.

Either way, what about me? Had I done anything to encourage him? We danced one dance for heaven's sake. I bit my lip. But I can't say no to a date. Saying no to a guy like Devin was one thing, but rejecting a great guy like Michael was another. 

I furrowed my brow in frustration. Why do I keep comparing Devin to Michael?!  One is nice, one is not. One asked me on a date, one would laugh at the thought it. STOP IT LIS. 

~~~

The next day I was resentfully doing a full check on Devin's car before he went out for his one o'clock training session on the track. 

As much as he claims to be a "safety-conscious man," I'm pretty sure he likes making lower positioned employees do continuous checks every day just because he can. And what do you know? I'm about the lowest you can get around here. 

Even though routine checks were necessary, a lot of racers checked their cars themselves; especially when they trained at the track every day. It barely took ten minutes and didn't require a seasoned mechanic to make sure the car wasn't going to explode when you drove it. 

But Devin? Goodness gracious no. Got to have those trusty assistants help the busy man out. 

Just as I closed and locked the engine cover, Mr. Devil himself walked into the garage. I wiped the baby-hairs that had clung to my forehead in the heat and looked up. 

Nicole stood next to him in her apparently signature short skirt and high heels. Busy man, my foot. She gave me a condescending smile, which wasn't hard to do considering she was 5'8 with heels and I was pushing 5'2. Not to mention standing there in my work boots didn't exactly make me feel overly distinguished. 

She leaned into Devin and kissed him.

I crossed my arms and stood there waiting. 

"See you later," she smiled at him and walked away, putting on a conscious show of her model steps and swinging hips.  

Devin turned to me. "Hi there."

I ignored his greeting and raised my eyebrows, turning back to the car. "You move faster than an excessively caffeinated rabbit."

"What do you expect?" he opened a cabinet and took out some gloves. "I'm a racer."

"Yeah I can see that alright," I nodded sarcastically while making sure the bolts on the fuel vent were tightened. "Cheesy line, by the way," I added.

He put on the gloves. "You got something against that?"

"What? The cheesy line or the caffeinated rabbit?"

"The caffeinated rabbit," he said with a smile pulling at the curves of his mouth. 

I paused and looked up at him. "As a matter of fact, yes, I do have something against that."

We stood there for a moment; him waiting for a further answer and me waiting for him to give up. I sure as heck wasn't about to speak my mind. I can vent what I want inside my head. No need to get fired. 

Devin lowered his head a little. "You got something else to say?"

"Yeah, but you wouldn't want to hear it," I spoke carelessly.

"Try me," he said, zipping up his jumpsuit.

I walked over to the work bench and leaned my back against it, folding my arms. "Slow and steady wins the race."

"Okay, Miss Aesop. Got any other worthless wisdom for me?" he joked. 

"Plenty. Not sure it's worth wasting on you, though," I smiled flatly.

Devin opened his mouth to say something when Michael popped his head in the garage. 

"Hey," he said to me and nodded politely to Devin.

"I got a 5 minute break," he continued, sounding a little out of breath. "So, are we on for Friday night?"

Of course you come in and ask me that now, of all times. "Y-yes, we are," I hesitated ever-so-slightly but out of the corner of my eye could still see Devin's amused smirk. 

"Okay," he pulled a piece of paper out of his pocket, "Here's my number. Text me later." 

I took it and smiled as he waved goodbye, silently thanking him for not having the time to figure out the details right then and there in front of Devin. It was bad enough having him be the first to know about it, instead of my best friend. Oh my gosh. I haven't told Kaity yet. She's going to flip. I smiled. She is going to flip. 

My expression must've betrayed me and led Devin on to wrongly presume what I was thinking because he chuckled for a moment and said "I see your game, turtle." 

I jerked my head at him in confusion. "What?" Game? Turtle? Did I miss something?

"The fable. 'Slow and steady wins the race.' You're the turtle and I'm the hare. The turtle wins the race."

"What?" I repeated with a slightly less befuddled tone. 

He looked at me as if waiting for a light-bulb to click in my brain. 

"Oh," I paused, "It's actually a tortoise, and no, that's not what I was getting at."

"But you do think that," he smirked dully. 

"If you're talking about the resemblance between you and the hare, and me and the tortoise; then yes, I do think that," I stated simply. 

Devin stared at the ceiling. He was either refraining from rolling his eyes or cursing my name to the wind. I couldn't tell. 

An awkward grunt came from the door and I looked up to see Dad standing there. "Am I interrupting something?"

Yes, and I love you for it. "No, I was just finishing up on Devin's car. It's ready to go."

"Good, because we're running behind for your two o'clock session," Dad informed him. 

Devin nodded, brushing his caramel colored hair back before putting on his helmet.

Dad motioned to the car. "Go ahead and get in, son. Lissa and I can push you out there."

"Are you sure?" he questioned slowly. His eyes traveled away from Dad towards my general direction. 

I'd like to think he hesitated because he was a gentleman and didn't want a lady to push his car with him sitting in it, but that would be too heroic of an intention for Devin. He was probably worried I'd somehow manage to push him into a wall, which didn't sound like such a bad idea at the moment. 

Never mind, I thought. Work's work and I'm sure Dad would appreciate it if I didn't purposely wreck a million dollar piece of car. 

~~~

As we pushed him out to the track the wind picked up and my ponytail fell out. Is this the punishment I get for using a scrunchie?  

I stopped to pull out the hair that was getting caught in my mouth. 

"Lis why did you stop?" Dad asked. It sounded more like an accusation rather than a question, though. "Getting tired?" he had the nerve to add. 

"No. Hair. That's why," I replied in annoyance, still trying to harness the hair that was blowing in the wind back into its ponytail. 

"If you just chopped it off, we wouldn't have this problem," he shook his head and sighed. "Women." 

My eyes pierced through him as I realized Devin was probably up there in the cockpit having a ball hearing my dad treat me the same way he did: like an immature little girl who didn't belong here. 

I came close to lashing out a snide comeback but instead scowled and returned to pushing, harder than before. For the first time in forever, I had an impulse to stop throwing back wit and start kicking everyone's egos and doubts in the you-know-where. 

Darn right I'm gonna go on that date with Michael. Darn right I'm gonna finish Junior year. And darn bloody right I'm gonna put Devin in his place. 

~~~