Chapter Seventeen

Lance felt beads of sweat slip down his forehead beneath his racing helmet. His eyes narrowed as he shifted his gaze from side to side, sizing up his opponents. To his left was Todd Frasier, an opponent that used to give Lance attitude. He was all talk. Even though Lance had beaten him numerous times, Todd still claimed to be a better racer and more deserving of the title. The corner of Lance's mouth twitched up in a smirk at the idea of Todd being a champion.

To his right was Danny Wylde. Lance burned his gaze on the racer, trying to memorize every detail of the driver and his speeder. Wylde was dressed very stealthily. His full-faced helmet was black and aerodynamic. He wore a sleek black vinyl racing suit with matching gloves. Wylde's frame was smaller than Lance's, almost like it was another tool for him to use. Lance took note as the racer's head seemed to briefly turn in his direction. Before he could respond, the warning lights up ahead blazed to life.

Lance slipped his helmet shield down, leaning forward on his speeder. His hands twisted on the control handle, revving the speeder's engine. The roar of the other speeders coming to life drowned out the cheering crowd of the stadium. Lance's breathing slowed as he concentrated on the glow of the amber lights ahead. Everything around him slowly faded away as he only allowed the vision of the track to play through his mind. The meditation skills he learned in Tai Chi were applicable just about anywhere.

The amber lights suddenly switched to neon green. The racers at the line lurched forward on the track, Lance's speeder far ahead than most of the others. Wylde's silhouette was seen just inches behind him. Lance felt the presence behind him, deterring his mind briefly. He shifted his body on the speeder, taking the inner line on the first turn. Chalk one for me, zero for Wylde.

Lance forged ahead on the straight-away, downshifting the speeder to accelerate faster. It seemed Wylde did the same, almost clipping the back of Lance's speeder. The second curve of the track came up. Lance pressed his body into the speeder, making himself as dynamic as possible. Feeling Wylde bearing down on him, he prematurely shifted the speeder in anticipation of the turn.

Wylde's blurred image slipped in front of Lance.

Shit!

In the boxed seats of the stands, Allura heard the same curse word in her inner monologue. She reflexively grabbed Keith's arm. Glancing up at him, she noticed his vision was intently fixed on Lance's speeder, his lips pursed tightly together. Feeling her hand upon his arm, he covered his with his own.

Losing today is NOT what he needs, Keith thought to himself. Perhaps he shouldn't have had him take Black up today. The imperfect test must have distracted Lance. Keith knew he had been apprehensive of facing this Wylde character. He gave a quiet sigh, feeling he had made a mistake.

Allura's hand gently squeezed his arm. She knew that Keith took every move of his teammates to heart. No doubt he had found a way to wriggle his mind into making Lance's slip up Keith's fault. She gave a quick, empathetic smile up at Keith. The sensitive man that would be her husband was completely tense. It was like he was willing his own energy into Lance.

Lance's breathing quickened as adrenaline began pumping through his veins. He was beginning to lose his cool. Inhaling as deeply as he could from under the stiffness of the helmet, he felt a sudden surge of calm and clarity slip over him like a warm blanket. His sketchy vision cleared like the sky after a summer downpour. Lance watched the minute movements of Wylde's speeder as it was shifting side to side over the hurdles. His mind copied the pattern, and at the first opening, his speeder shot forward, running parallel to Wylde.

The finish line was meters away. Lance felt the burning gaze of Wylde on him. He downshifted again, his speeder launching itself forward across the line, Wylde mere centimeters behind him.

The crowd erupted in cheers as he race ended. Allura jumped up in her seat and clapped her hands together gleefully. Keith's body slumped back in his chair, feeling a sudden loss of energy. A happy grin spread over his face, somewhat relieved of the win. After a moment, he stood and joined Allura in applauding the racers.

Lance raised a gloved fist in the air, encouraging more cheers from the crowd as he took a victory lap. Wylde wasn't far behind him still. Lance steered his speeder into his docking station. He switched off his craft and slid his helmet off his head. He wiped his arm across his forehead to absorb sweat, a permanent grin slapped on his face. Wylde's figure slowly drove up next to his dock, the black front of his helmet reflecting Lance's face back at him.

Standing from his speeder, Lance stepped toward Wylde and extended his hand.

"Helluva race," was all that Lance could muster. Wylde's helmet tilted down to stare at the hand. Lance blinked after a moment passed. Just as he prepared to drop his hand away, Wylde's gloved hands came up to remove the racing helmet.

Lance gasped inwardly, taking a stumbled step backwards. Dark almond-shaped eyes with plush lashes stared intensely at him. Rich auburn hair spilled out over Wylde's shoulders, gleaming in the sunlight. Crimson lips twisted up in a very familiar smirk, emphasizing perfectly-placed cheekbones. Lance's eyes roamed down over the petite frame, everything suddenly falling into place. He could now make out the gentle curves of Wylde's body.

"W-Wylde?" he stammered.

"Call me Danny," a honeyed voice dripped out words.

Lance realized he must have looked wretched after the race. He blinked his eyes, returning their size to normal, and ran a hand through his mop of hair. He felt suddenly nervous.

"Um, I'm Lance," he offered out his hand again, rather awkwardly.

"Yes, I know," she answered, slipping her hand into his. Lance lost himself in her eyes for a moment before he found some words floating around his mind.

"You race like a real pro out there," he spurted out the words, suddenly regretting them. Surely he could've found something better to say than that.

"Thanks. I must say, I rarely ever lose. But this time I don't mind so much," she smiled intriguingly at him. Lance felt his pulse skip a beat.

"Usually I don't have a problem keeping first the entire race. I appreciate the challenge," he tried to be as casual as possible. It backfired. I sound like an ass! "Um, I mean, uh…you're really good out there."

"Yes, you did say that before. Well, Lance, pleasure meeting you. I'll see you at next week's race," Danny removed her hand from his and started her speeder up again.

"You'll be back next week?" Lance double checked. Danny gave a sharp nod.

"Well you do have something I want," she gazed seductively at him. Lance felt like someone punched him in the head as he went dizzy for a moment.

His lips parted, seeking for words. "Um…"

Danny smiled mischievously at him. "Your title." She grinned and sped away. Lance stood like a lump on a log, watching her leave. The wind played through her thick hair as she sped away.

"Hey Lance!" Keith's voice summoned him back to earth. Lance wrenched his eyes away from Danny's fading form to turn to his friends.

Smiling lightly, he patted Keith on the shoulder. "Hey Cap!"

Allura gave him a brief hug. "You were amazing, Lance!"

That left the door wide open for a smartass response. "Four words I've always wanted to hear from you, princess!" Lance jested. Keith scowled as Allura blushed.

"Uh huh, in your dreams, Lance," Keith stole a quick kiss from Allura.

"Every night!" Lance quipped, shrinking back to avoid Keith's swinging hand.

"Alright you two," Allura stepped in between them and held her hands out, pretending like they needed to be separated. She turned to face Lance. "Who were you just speaking with?"

Lance took a breath. "That," he said. "Was Danny Wylde." He put his hands on his hips, still dumbfounded.

Keith raised a dark eyebrow. "Wylde's a girl?"

"Apparently," Lance answered. Keith recognized the glint in his eyes. This time it was slightly different. He knew his best friend never met a beautiful woman he'd say no to, but this time there was a different fire in his gaze. Lance had beaten her in the race, but he still felt like he lost something when she left. Her lithe figure still burned its image into his mind's eye.

Keith waved a hand slowly in front of Lance's face. Startled, Lance blinked back at him. Keith grinned. "Uh oh."

Lance scowled. "What 'uh-oh?'" He crossed his arms over his chest in a protective manner.

"I think someone has a new interest," Keith replied. Lance mumbled something incoherently and turned to tinker with his speeder. Keith and Allura exchanged a knowing glance before snickering softly.