He freezes. Snaps his eyes to me. “Wait. What?”
I wink. “I said what I said. Now get out of my way before Manda disqualifies me.”
“Bry.” He refuses to remove his hands from my door, and though I roll the car forward, he walks with me. “Dude. Don’t play with that shit. This isn’t one of those dares you gotta go with just for the sake of saving face.”
“Not a dare.” I flash my headlights when people stand between me and the starting line. “You’re not a Kincaid, so you can’t understand. But I’m gonna need you to get your mitts off my car now before I run you over.” I slam my fist onto his fingers, and laugh when he bounces back with a shout. “I have to race. But also… you’re up before me. You might wanna hurry the fuck up and get your bike.”
“I’m what?” His gaze whips to the front of the line. To the single bike that sits and waits, and the empty space beside it where he should be. “Ah fuck!”
He darts away on a fast, arm-pumping sprint, only to jump onto his bike and rev it so loud that everyone turns in his direction.
I continue moving forward, and in my mind, I think about irony. I think about myth, and family stories passed down over the years. I think of my grandma, and though I never met the man, I think of my grandpa. I roll forward and leave my stereo on low, and think of my mom and dad. I think about how Daddy swears he saw a girl from across the room and he knew. He knew she was it for him.
Mom claims he’s full of shit, and that it took until the first date for them to know. But I prefer the way he tells it.
Distracted, I slam my foot to the floor when another car skids into the tiny space ahead of me and cuts line.
“Fuckin’ Price,” I growl.
He barely missed clipping some of the folks milling around the cars. Barely missed taking out my front bumper. He barely missed hitting Madilyn, as she approaches from the left and skips back a step when his wheels throw dust and dirt.
She still wears my hat, but I see her eyes beneath the curved brim. I see her rage at his near miss.
She stands all alone among a crowd of hundreds, but when Price presses his hand to the horn in demand, I slide my car into neutral and vow to teach this motherfucker some manners.
“Stop.” Tuck’s hand slams to my doorframe like earlier. But this time, he sits on his bike and breathes heavily beneath his red helmet. “Stay in your fuckin’ car, Kincaid.”
“He nearly hit her, Tuck!”
“She’s fine.” He lifts the visor on his helmet and stares into my eyes. “She’s there, she’s fine, and she sure as hell didn’t cry out for you. She’s a stranger to you, Bry. Leave it alone.”
“He could have hurt her,” I seethe. “Now he thinks he gets to blow his horn and demand attention like she’s a fuckin’ dog? That’s not how this is gonna work.”
“She’s not yours, Bry! She has never been yours.”
He turns to watch as she approaches Price’s passenger window. Much the same as how she came to mine last week, she folds at the waist and speaks to him through the window.
Tuck’s eyes come back to mine. “That’s her man. It doesn’t matter if you like it or not. And it doesn’t matter if you think the universe has turned all divine and shit and she’s supposed to be yours. For as long as she goes to him, for as long as she’s unharmed, you need to stay the fuck away.”
“So we wait for him to hurt her?” I snap. “Reactive, rather than proactive?”
“Jesus, Bry. She ain’t your damsel.”
“Morris!” Manda’s voice cuts through a lot of the noise surrounding us. “Twenty seconds.” She waves him toward her. “If your front wheel ain’t on the line, you forfeit.”
“Fuck.” Tuck looks to me and grits out, “leave her be. Let me finish my race before you force me into a war I didn’t start.”
“I never tell you to wade in, moron. You throw yourself in, then claim to be a victim when it’s all done. Go!” I wave him forward. “You’re about to get yourself onto Manda’s shit-list. You don’t want that heat.”
Tuck knows I have no qualms about fighting. He knows I have a thing for saving damsels. He knows a hell of a lot about me that most others don’t. But he can’t forfeit a race. It’s against his religion or something.
“Ugh!” He flips his visor back down and revs his bike. “Wait for me, motherfucker.”
Then he takes off with a roar, skids to the line with so much speed that Manda skips back a step and eyes him with a dangerous, lifted brow, but then I forget about him as I go back to staring at Maddi’s ass while she leans into Price’s car.
I’d give almost anything to hear what they’re saying. I’d give even more to be able to hear what she’s thinking.
The girl in the hot lane stands between Tuck and his competitor. She raises her hand high in the sky, taunts the racers with a little wiggle and a grin. The bikes rev so loud that it’s impossible to speak. Impossible to hear the radio. Tuck sits atop his dirt bike with his head and shoulders down low. His eyes pointing straight ahead as he studies the flat he’s about to hurtle along with nothing for safety except a helmet.
Then the woman drops her hand.
They take off with a scream, engine versus engine, but one is a street bike made for racing; the other was once a frame and a broken engine left in the trash. One was bought with a trust fund, and the other was built on blood, sweat, and hard fucking work.
I try to keep one eye on Maddi, and one on Tuck. But she’s not bent into Price’s car anymore. It’s too loud, too much adrenaline, too much excitement.
She rests back on her heels, drops her hands into her back pockets, and while Tuck tears up the track and leaves the other guy in his dust, I watch Maddi.
Her tight jeans, the sparkling pretties on her back pockets. She wears sneakers, black, with green camo stripes, and a top that matches. Her hair dangles to the middle of her back, though those gentle curls pull it up a little.
She watches Tuck, her eyes glued to the bikes, and in the car, Price studies me in the rearview mirror.
Busted.
I was staring at what’s his, and he knows it.
His eyes bore straight into mine, but because I get off on being a prick, I reach up and readjust my hat.
I didn’t arrive here tonight with it. But I have it now. And I wonder… does he know his girl held onto it for me? Does he know she went out of her way to bring it tonight?
When his eyes narrow, I fix it on straight and flash a grin that screams, “Fuck you.”
I don’t hear anything, I can’t over the bikes and the shouts of everyone around us, but Maddi hears something. She hears him. Because her gaze whips to the left with a fast jolt. Now she’s in profile, her angular face, her almost elvish ears, and her perky nose. She doesn’t smile for him, but I remember the shape her lips make when she’s happy.
She’s never given me that look. But I’ve seen it.
She leans closer as the bikes circle around and come closer. They get noisier, their movements create a type of vibration in the air, so she leans in, in, in further, until without warning, he throws his arm across the passenger seat and snags her wrist. He pulls her in until her hips smack against the doorframe.