One Hour before the Race...

Brian surveyed the bustling grandstand in awe. Nearly every seat was already filled, even though the first race wouldn't be for almost another hour. He had to admit; he had been a little skeptical about whether this sort of event would hold his interest, but there was an exciting energy to the place. He watched as several jockeys; no, drivers, he recalled Justin saying, led their horses around the perimeter of the track in practice; others were either grooming them or just standing next to them as they conversed with each other. He strained his neck in hopes of seeing Justin, but to his disappointment, so far he hadn't seen any sign of him. The smell of cigarette smoke, boiled peanuts, beer, and various concession stand items filled the stands. He wrinkled his nose at the pungent aroma of what smelled like horse dung mixed in with all the other smells. Not surprising, though; everywhere you looked there were stables housing horse after horse and trailers of every make and model.

His eyes finally settled on a trailer with the name "Windswept Farm" written on it in script letters, and his heart skipped a beat. It was parked next to one of the stables, so obviously Justin must be nearby somewhere.

"Can't go back there without a pass," Vic replied quietly beside him; Emmett had gone in search of some fried pickles, one of his guilty pleasures, after pecan pie, anyway. Brian had looked at him aghast at the mere thought, but Honeycutt had merely offered him a silly sort of grin and shrugged before he scampered off in search of his prize.

He turned to look over at the older man with a frown. "What did you say?"

Vic smiled. "If you want to see him, you'll need one of these or they won't let you back there." He reached inside his pants pocket to retrieve a rectangular-sized, laminated piece of bright orange paper, with the

words 'Stable Entry Pass' written on it. He handed it to Brian as he nodded his head toward the trailer. "Headstrong's in the 4th stall on the right." Brian hesitated for a moment, not wanting to get Justin into trouble or make him nervous by his presence. He also wasn't sure how Justin's father would react to him hovering around him just before the race.

"Well, go on," Vic prodded him. "I'm sure he'd like to see you before he races. And...If you are thinking about his father, well, he has this long-standing superstition about not being back at the stables beforehand. He spends his time before the race in the grandstand clubhouse with Jennifer. You can set your clock by him; he will be out precisely fifteen minutes before the race, and will walk over to his reserved seat over by the finish line. So you don't have to worry about him." He winked. "I'll even save your seat for you. You won't want to miss Justin in his element."

"I'm not worried about his father," Brian told him gruffly. Secretly, though, that was precisely his concern, not so much for him but for Justin. He didn't want to make things harder for him. On the other hand, he wasn't about to stop seeing Justin, either, no matter what his father thought about their relationship.

Trusting that Vic knew what he was talking about - and wanting badly to see his lover - Brian nodded as he rose from his seat ten rows up and proceeded down the concrete aisle to the ground level. It took him a few minutes - including some tense seconds as the armed, uniformed security guard studied his pass before motioning him through - before he headed into the straw-covered stable toward the fourth stall on the right. As he neared his target, he noticed a plaque hanging up close by, and stopped for just a few seconds to read the inscription, surprised to realize it was about his cousin, Dale. He was suitably impressed by his cousin's track record and his accomplishments; apparently, he had been quite a formidable competitor. His main attention, however, was drawn to the familiar voice he could hear from several feet away as he smiled in recognition, his pulse quickening as he approached Headstrong's stall. A simple, wooden bench was perched just beside the stall door, with a couple of water bottles sitting on top next to Justin's helmet.

"That's it," Justin was cooing to Headstrong. "You're looking good, Boy. You're going to do just fine today," he was saying softly. "That's my pretty boy."

Brian pursed his lips together to keep from laughing as he walked up to the stall gate and peered inside. Justin had his back to him as he petted the majestic-looking animal and whispered encouraging words to him; he could hear Headstrong chuffing softly as Justin spoke. Apparently, his lover had a magical effect on all kinds of male species.

Justin turned around as he heard the stall gate squeaking a few seconds later, and his face lit up into a surprised but delighted smile. "Brian! How did you get back here?"

Brian closed the stall gate behind him as he walked up and slid his arms around the smooth, satiny fabric of Justin's racing uniform, linking his arms around the small of Justin's back. "Vic gave me his pass to use," he explained as Justin nodded. The two of them automatically moved closer together, Justin's arms sliding around Brian's neck as the two of them kissed, their lips parting so tongues could tangle to taste each other's unique essence. A soft sigh of contentment escaped Justin's lips as Brian angled his head to deepen the kiss, his hands slowly traveling up and down Justin's back.

Brian's hands were flat against the younger boy's back and felt hot against the thin, slick fabric as their bodies ground together; he had to bite back a moan of his own as his dick twitched in response to the sensation of denim on satin. Finally, with great reluctance, he broke off the kiss to stare into Justin's eyes, eyes that continued to captivate and enthrall him. "I just wanted to see you before you raced. I know you're going to do great out there today," he told Justin earnestly as he lightly held him in his arms, his voice soft but confident as he smiled at him.

Justin beamed, blushing in response as he replied, "Thanks. I still get nervous before each race, though. You never know what's going to happen out there."

Brian's face clouded over for just an instant; he didn't want to think about something going wrong. He had to be positive, for both him as well as Justin. "Nothing's going to go wrong, Hot Shot. You've got your lucky charm here with you today, after all."

Justin's eyes widened as if in surprise before he smiled. "How did you know?" he asked as he reached inside his pocket and retrieved a small rabbit's foot on a beaded keychain and waved it in front of him playfully.

Brian laughed. "Not that, you asshole! Me!" He curled his lips under as Justin nodded with a smile.

"Ohhh, how could I forget that?" he deadpanned with a grin. He paused for a second before he told Brian, "I knew what you meant, you idiot! And just for the record, you ARE my lucky charm. You were from the start. Well, almost from the start, at least once we got past a few things."

Brian snorted as Justin grinned back at him impishly. "Well, I'm glad we took care of those issues," he told him. He couldn't help smiling over at him softly, however, as he informed him, "I'll be sitting about ten rows up in the center section with Vic - and Honeycutt." He grimaced. "He was gone when I left - something about going in search of fried pickles."

Justin laughed as his eyes lit up. "I love fried pickles! I'll have to buy you one to sample out of my winnings after the race is over."

Brian looked horrified. "Uh...no...Going to the town social and seeing all sorts of odd bake sale items being auctioned off was more than enough trauma for me." He stared into Justin's beautiful face as he curled his lips under like a little boy and told him, "You are right about one thing, though."

"Just one?" was the innocent-sounding reply. He yelped as Brian smacked him on one, satin-clad ass cheek. "Hey!"

"You deserved that, you cheeky little shit," Brian told him.

"Well, you got the cheeky part of it right, anyway," Justin told him, clearly enjoying himself.

Brian harrumphed. "Okay, just for that snarky comment...Never mind."

"No, tell me!" Justin begged, somehow needing to know what Brian was thinking.

Brian sighed. "I was just going to tell you that you WILL have winnings when you get done; you just won't be using them for those disgusting, fried pickles." He shuddered at the thought. "At least not for me, anyway. And if you wind up eating some of those monstrosities yourself afterward, then..." He left the sentence hanging.

"What?" Justin pressed as he squeezed the sides of Brian's waist to urge him to talk; surprised when the older boy actually giggled and flinched at his touch. "Oh, my God! You're so ticklish!" he shrieked in mischievous delight as Brian grabbed his hands to stop him. Justin laughed at the twisted look on his face.

"If you ever divulge that deep, dark secret to anyone, I will take your Jockey shorts and pull them down over your fucking face," Brian promised him.

Justin grinned with unconcern as Brian pulled him against him, locking their hands together behind Justin's back. "You'll have to get them off me first," he replied with a sexy, little smile that made Brian's body tingle in anticipation of doing just that. "Now let's see, what were you saying?" Justin asked innocently. "Oh, yeah, if I eat fried pickles after I win today..." He tilted his head expectantly.

"If you eat any fried pickles after you win today, don't expect me to kiss you until after you've brushed your teeth - and used mouthwash; twice," Brian firmly told him.

Justin shrugged. "What makes you think I'd even want to kiss you then?" he asked. "I'll have tons of money after the race; I could find some other guy to..."

Justin didn't get to finish his statement; one second later, he heard a sort of growl escape Brian's mouth as the other boy promptly plastered his lips against his to show him what he would be missing if he did. He whimpered at the passion and intensity in that kiss as his fingers tightened their grip in Brian's clutch. He actually felt slightly dizzy in reaction, until at last Brian detached his lips from his with a decided popping noise.

He smirked over at him smugly. "That's how I know," he told him simply, noting the dazed look on Justin's face and the sweat on his brow. "First time someone's worked up a sweat just over me kissing them, though," he bragged as Justin snorted back at him. He laughed as he reluctantly let him go, noticing Headstrong fidgeting behind them. "Looks like someone's getting impatient."

"Don't be so damn cocky," Justin chided him. "I can wait until after the race to kiss you again," he told him.

Brian guffawed. "Not me; the other male in the room." He indicated Headstrong with a nod of his head as Justin blushed.

"Oh," he said in realization. "Yeah, he's normally out on the track by now, but someone distracted his driver this time."

Brian shrugged with a grin. "Admit it, Farm Boy. It was so worth it - at least to you."

"So incredibly humble as always," Justin commented dryly. He straightened out his clothing, now bunched up in intriguing places. "Yeah," he admitted then. "I think he minded it more than I did." He reached to grab Headstrong's reins and his gloves lying nearby as the horse whinnied softly in anticipation, knowing what those gestures meant. "I really do need to get him ready for the race, though," Justin explained. "He still needs to be hooked up to the sulky."

"And YOU need to have time to inspect it thoroughly," Brian reminded him firmly, not willing to risk having anything happen to Justin like it had with his cousin.

"I have plenty of time," Justin assured him. "And I always do a complete walk around to check it out, too, so it'll be fine," he informed him as Brian nodded in relief.

"Well..." Brian found that he hated to go; he thought Justin looked a little flushed as he stared over at him, but he thought it merely had to do with their 'pre-race' activities. "I guess I'd better get back out there, then," he told him regretfully. He did fervently want to see Justin race; everyone that had spoken about it just raved about his skill and grace out on the track, and how he and Headstrong worked in tandem as a team so perfectly, and he couldn't wait at last to see it for himself.

Justin nodded back at him as Brian opened up the stall door, poking his head out to make sure that Craig wasn't making an unexpected guest appearance; he was relieved to see that apparently Vic knew what he had been talking about - there were a few drivers leading their horses outside, but no sign of either Justin's mother or father.

"Is the coast clear?" Justin asked amused in a stage whisper.

Brian rolled his eyes as he turned to look back at the other boy grinning at him. "Yeah, your father is apparently still at the clubhouse; Vic clued me in earlier. Good thing he's so predictable."

Justin nodded as Brian held the stall door open to allow him to lead Headstrong out into the main aisle of the stables. "Well, I'd better get going," Justin told him as Brian nodded. "Oh, hand me my water, will you?" he asked Brian.

Brian nodded as he walked over to retrieve a half-full, plastic bottle of water. Handing it to Justin, he stared into his face. "You sure you're feeling okay?" he asked him as Justin took a couple of big gulps of the liquid; he swallowed his desire as he watched the other boy's Adam's apple bob up and down against the pale, supple skin.

"Yeah," Justin told him as he wiped his mouth. "Just nerves," he assured him. "I always get a little tense just before it's time." He took a deep breath before letting it out. "I, uh, guess you'd better walk on ahead, just in case my father decides he wants to break from tradition today."

Brian nodded. "Yeah. We've just now reached the 'he's no longer wanting to kill me and he's tolerating me' stage. Better not press my luck, then." Brian looked around furtively, glad that the horse partly obstructed everyone else's view. Leaning over, he gave Justin a quick kiss on the cheek as he whispered, "Go get 'em, Farm Boy. I'll be up there watching you, so make it good."

Justin blushed as he nodded with a smile, feeling excited about Brian finally getting the chance to see him race. "I'll see you afterward?" he asked softly.

"You bet," Brian told him before, with a quick squeeze of his shoulder, he murmured, "Count on it. See you later."

"Later," Justin whispered back with a smile as Brian turned and slowly walked toward the front of the stables. He turned around when he got to the end and, with one short wave, he headed out toward the grandstand.

"Come on, Big Fella," Justin told the horse as he watched Brian go. "Time for us to show him what we've got."

Headstrong seemed to somehow understand him as he bobbed his head up and down seemingly in agreement as Justin laughed.

"Showoff." His body charged with adrenalin, he felt another, brief flicker of dizziness wash over him. He hadn't told Brian that he had experienced one other, similar episode about fifteen minutes ago before he showed up. What the fuck? He wiped his brow with his gloved hand and stood there for a moment until the feeling passed, before, pressing his hand against his forehead to try and shake off the odd feeling he had, he tightened his hold on Headstrong's reins and resumed his walk toward the track.

Vic nodded with a smile as Brian walked back up to join him. "Find him okay?" He really didn't have to ask, though; he could somehow tell by the look on Brian's face that he had.

Brian nodded as he handed the pass back to him. "Yeah. Thanks," he murmured a little self-consciously. Was he that transparent when it came to Justin? He supposed by this time he was. He couldn't help it, though; there was just some quality about Justin that made him react to him, that made him want to be with him 24/7 and want to protect him.

Vic smiled. "Glad to hear it. How's he doing?"

"Seems a little nervous," Brian reported. "But I noticed he's the odds-on favorite, at least according to the betting stats."

Vic nodded. "He always is," he told him as he looked out onto the track to see Justin walking over to his sulky with Headstrong. "He's quite the competitor, and he always has had an affinity, a natural instinct, for it. It didn't take me long to pass on what I knew to him. He took it and ran with it - and never looked back."

Brian followed his line of sight, his heart skipping a beat as he noticed Justin leading Headstrong over to their sulky to get ready. "You mean since Dale died," he corrected him quietly as he turned to look at Vic.

Vic sighed. "Yeah. That was a damn shame. That kid was such a talented rider - and a nice boy to boot. He didn't deserve to have what happened to him. And...Your uncle's never been the same since." He turned to look at Brian. "Although...Lately I've seen just a bit of his old self; mainly, I think, because of you."

Brian frowned. "Me? Why?"

Vic studied him. "Because I think in a lot of ways you remind him of Dale. Oh, not physically; you really don't look anything alike. But in mannerisms. Dale was a nice kid, but he always had a bit of a rebellious streak in him. He was kind of like French bread: crusty on the outside, but soft on the inside." Vic smirked as Brian rolled his eyes.

"Great. Always wanted to be compared to something stale."

Vic smiled. "I think you catch my drift."

Brian glanced out at Justin to see him attaching the sulky to Headstrong as he quietly told Vic, "Justin filled me in on what happened that day." He turned to look at him again. "What do YOU think? Do you think it was just some freak accident? Or do you think it was something more? Justin told me this horseracing business can be very cut-throat."

Vic snorted. "Cut-throat doesn't begin to describe it. Some of those drivers down there wouldn't think twice about poisoning one of their competitor's horses, just to get them out of the way. They don't care about anyone or anybody except themselves and their greed. And Justin's definitely their main obstacle to that right now."

Brian's heart thumped with concern. "So you're saying it wasn't an accident," he surmised grimly. "Justin mentioned the same doubt to me. He said Dale used to be so careful with his equipment before every race."

Vic let out a ragged breath, rubbing his hand across his face and momentarily pressing his lips together before he nodded. "Yeah, he was. VERY careful. He knew how important that was." He sighed. "I don't know, Brian. It's possible it could have been either one. But I know from talking to Justin about it that's he's not convinced it was an accident - and neither am I. It just didn't make sense. But they never found any proof that it was anything but an accident, so that was the only ruling they could make."

Brian nodded as he gazed down at Justin. From up here, he looked confident as he walked around the sulky to inspect it, but also vulnerable. A lump of foreboding formed in his throat. He knew he was being ridiculous - after all, Justin had been racing for a few years now without any problems - but then again, he hadn't known or cared so much about him then.

"He knows what he's doing," Vic reassured him quietly by his side as if he were reading his mind. "He'll be fine, you'll see."

Brian nodded as he let out a tense breath. Just then, Vic's nephew came bounding up the steps, holding onto a beer in one hand and a paper tray of his prized, fried pickles in the other. His eyes were shining with excitement as he sat down on the other side of Brian. "Look what I found!" he cried out triumphantly. "Want one?" he asked as he held it under his nose.

Brian crinkled his face in distaste. "No way," he told him as he eyed the battered food. There were four, wedge-shaped pickles nestled inside; at least that's what he assumed they were. It was hard to tell WHAT was under all that brown, grease-soaked coating.

"You don't know what you're missing," Emmett sing-songed as Vic grinned at him from the other side. "These are a southern delicacy - I call it Hillbilly caviar," he told Brian as he picked one up and promptly dunked into something that looked suspiciously like ranch dressing as he held it out toward him, deriving way too much glee out of it, too, in Brian's estimation. To Brian, it could have been a chocolate-covered cicada; that might have been tastier, in fact.

Brian thought he would gag. "I'll take your word for it, Honeycutt," he told him as he shuddered. He saw Emmett shrug just before the other boy bit into the crunchy spear and licked his lips as Brian tried to concentrate on Justin's actions down on the track. He watched intently as Justin finished up his inspection and reached to pull his helmet and goggles on, now completely protected from head to foot. He frowned in concern, however, as he noticed Justin reaching to grip the edge of the seat as if he were steadying himself. "Did you see that?" he asked Vic.

"What?" he asked as he snagged one of his nephew's spears and dipped it into the sauce.

"Justin looked like he was dizzy for a minute or something. It looked like he was swaying a little."

Vic turned to gaze down at his young friend, noticing Justin swinging himself up into the seat. "He was?"

Brian nodded.

"He looks okay now. Are you sure?"

"Yeah, it sure looked that way," he maintained, but he noticed that Justin appeared to be okay now. He watched as his lover turned just then to look up into the grandstands, right in the middle section where the three of them were sitting. He could see his head slightly turning from side to side as he looked around until a wide smile broke out on his face and he raised his hand to wave at them.

Brian couldn't help smiling back as he gave him a 'thumbs up' sign of encouragement. Justin nodded as he turned to give the reins a slight tug and Headstrong and the sulky began moving toward the starting gate that was anchored to the rear of a white pickup truck located at the beginning of the starting line.

His heart racing in anticipation, Brian raptly watched as they trotted over to the middle of the starting gate to line up with the other horses; a number '6' was attached to Justin's right shoulder to identify his place at the gate as he trotted up to the next-to-last position and came to a stop. The horses all shifted impatiently in their places at the countdown to start the race began on the scoreboard.

The loudspeaker began to crackle as it came to life, and a sense of excitement permeated the crowd as they began to speak in an almost hushed tone of voice, almost as if they were holding their collective breaths. "All drivers to the starting gate," the male voice instructed as the crowd noise slowly increased in anticipation. "Thirty seconds."

Brian found that he, too, was holding his breath; he watched as the remaining horses trotted up to the gate. They all stood side by side together before a horn sounded and the truck slowly began to creep forward, the horses trotting at the same pace behind it for several yards until the wings of the starting gate folded up and the truck separated from them to veer away into the grassy median. He watched as the horses began to pick up speed, the drivers flicking their whips, not against the horse but against the metal of the sulky, apparently in a signal for the horse to speed up.

"And they're off!" the speaker roared to life as the crowd began to cheer and their voices began to lift in excitement. Brian's heart began to pound as his eyes never wavered from the lithe, green-and-yellow uniformed driver speeding gracefully down the track, just ahead of the other drivers. Headstrong's mane flew in the wind as his strong legs began to pick up speed. Brian marveled at how Justin could be practically lying down in the seat as he sped around the track, but he knew it was normal posture and he appeared to be in full control of his movements.

His throat was dry as he watched with unwavering attention while Justin and another driver a short distance away turned the first curve of the track, practically side by side. He frowned; they looked way too close to him. "Do they always race so close?" he called over to Vic without taking his eyes off his lover.

Vic nodded. "Yeah, that's normal," he reassured him. "Once they get around the next turn, the field will spread out when the slower horses fall back."

Brian nodded, feeling a little better.

"Come on, Baby!" Emmett shouted as Justin began to pull ahead slightly just then. "That's it!"

Brian licked his lips nervously, almost feeling like HE was racing at the moment. "Come on, Justin," he whispered with bated breath. "You can do it, Farm Boy..." He had to admit - Justin was amazing out there. Despite his slighter build, his command of the situation was formidable. No one seemed to control the horse the way that he could; Headstrong seemed to know instinctively what he wanted before it needed to be done. He let out a sigh of relief as the other sulky driver that had been perilously close to Justin fell back ever so slightly as they rounded the next curve, just as Vic had predicted.

From their place in the opposite grandstand, Doug Kesterson watched the race with disgust. "Shit!" he muttered in dismay, wondering how this could be. "Your brother's ahead!" he growled to Jared, who was sitting next to him.

Jared shook his head in aggravation. "I fucking told you, you asshole!" An older couple near them glared over at him due to his language, but he just ignored them. "I told you that Justin would win, didn't I? Why did I let you talk me into betting against him?" He sighed heavily. "Shit, man! That was my last freaking $20, and now it's gone!"

"Chill! There's still a chance," Doug told him as he watched the drama down below unfold with ever-increasing doubt and disbelief. He didn't understand. This was not supposed to happen this way. Damn it, Andrews; get your ass in gear! he silently berated the other driver who was a couple of lengths behind Justin. What the fuck? This wasn't right. "Nooooo," he whispered, his eyes narrowing in annoyance.

Jared watched in exasperation, his brother apparently heading for yet another win. "Damn you, Doug!" he yelled at him amidst the noise surrounding them. "I should have never listened to you! Look what you've done! Now I have nothing!"

"Just wait!" Doug insisted as, all of a sudden, he noticed Jared's brother seeming to hesitate and Headstrong appearing to slow down. "Look!" he cried out as he pointed down at the track and grabbed his friend's arm for emphasis.

Jared watched, perplexed. Justin seemed like he was swaying in his seat almost, and Headstrong apparently was picking up on his indecision. The horse was slowing just a bit, just enough for Robbie Andrews and his horse to begin to catch up with them. "What the hell?" he asked to no one in particular, finding that he wasn't nearly as jubilant as he should have been over the race tightening up. This wasn't like his brother to falter like this. "What is going on down there?"

From down on the field, Justin felt his head begin to swim as Headstrong dutifully trotted rapidly down the track that he knew so well. The crowd noise and the clip-clop of the sulky made the dizziness reappear, and he grabbed blindly onto the seat with his free hand to try and brace himself. He didn't notice at first that he had relaxed his hold on the reins, normally a signal for Headstrong to begin slowing down. When he saw Robbie Andrews coming up out of the corner of his eye, however, and the grandstand speaker announcing that they were now neck and neck coming down the stretch, he pressed his lips firmly together in resolve. He was NOT going to lose this race because of some weakness on his part! Not for his family's sake - who were depending on him to win - and not with Brian watching him race for the first time.

Forcing himself to concentrate, despite the dizziness and sweat now trickling into his eyes underneath the racing goggles, he tugged on the reins. "Come on, Headstrong!" he shouted as the horse took off faster, just as Justin had hoped. The horse almost jostled him so much at that point that he almost fell off; however, he managed to grab onto the sulky just in time to remain upright. He turned his head to see Andrews just a few feet behind him, flashing him a smug sort of grin, and that merely increased his determination not to give the arrogant SOB the chance to triumph over him. At least not today. "Go, boy!" he shouted to Headstrong as the horse picked up his pace a bit more.

As they approached the home stretch, he noticed he and Andrews were now almost parallel to each other. The noise from the crowd, and the excitement present in the voice over the loudspeaker were deafening as they neared the finish line, as Justin's dizziness increased. Just a little more... he pleaded as the two of them rapidly headed toward the end.

From their special box seats, Jennifer and Craig were standing on their feet, both of their faces creased with worry. They, too, realized that something was terribly wrong. It was obvious in Justin's position in the sulky seat and his hesitation before he pulled on the reins and shouted for Headstrong to move that there was a problem of some kind.

"What's going on?" Jennifer called over to Craig, who watched their son intently with ever-growing worry. "I don't know," he told her tersely. "But something's definitely wrong." He watched as Justin and the other driver rumbled toward the finish line, the other boy close on his heels. Unlike Justin's normal races, it was evident that this would be a sort of 'Hail Mary' finish; it was anyone's guess who was going to win this one.

"I'm going down there," Craig decided as he turned to start hurrying down the aisle situated next to them. Jennifer quickly followed, both of them watching the last few seconds of the race playing out before them and both holding their breaths as they hurried down the steps at the same time.

"You're going to be eating my dust, Taylor!" Robbie Andrews yelled over at Justin as their horses raced toward the finish line.

That only spurred Justin on more, though, as his lips pressed together and he gave Headstrong's reins one, last flick with his wrists. That's it, he thought with pride as his horse found one, last ounce of strength to increase his lead ever so minutely, finally pulling ahead just as they came to the finish line. It was only by the barest of margins as they crossed the mark, but it was enough to claim victory.

As the crowd erupted in excitement, Justin's felt his head swimming with disorientation and his eyes rolling back in his head as he promptly toppled from the sulky, directly down onto the hard, dirt surface of the track.

A/N: There will be another part to this coming up. Did not want to wait any longer to post what I had so I could get it updated for readers. Hope everyone is still enjoying this one! Would love to hear your thoughts. Thanks to my beta, also, Boriqua 522.;)