"BLECH—"
The sports car pulled over to the side of the road. Nina Walsh immediately unbuckled her seatbelt, dashed to the grassy median, and bent over, vomiting.
Milo Preston was stunned for a few seconds before getting out of the car. He handed her a bottle of water and chuckled. "This is the first time I've ever seen someone make themselves sick from their own street racing."
'This woman is full of surprising contrasts from head to toe. She looks so quiet and gentle, but behind the wheel, she's wilder than any street racer I've ever met.'
As Nina Walsh tilted her head back to drink, Milo Preston noticed her face was a little pale. "Are you that sick?" he asked with concern. "Should we go to a hospital?"
Nina shook her head and explained, "No, it's fine. I've never driven that fast before. That guy on the overpass who cut us off almost ran us off the bridge. It was just the adrenaline. I lost control for a moment. Thinking about it now is a little terrifying."
