by A. J. Logan
The races stopped for a few weeks, even Andrew told Kyle to cool it because of what had happened, but it didn’t take long for the crowd to return and the king to reclaim his tarnished crown—I’d held my breath the entire race.
“Come on, Sadie. It’s boring without you there. Parker is always making the rounds in the crowd instead of hangin’ out with me.” Willow gives me her notorious puppy-dog-eyes pout that she knows I can’t resist.
“Why do you go then?”
“Hot guys and fast cars,” she grins.
“Does Parker know that?”
“Of course, but he knows I’m just enjoying the show.” Her expression tightens a bit as she glances around. “And he knows I need the money.”
“What?”
“I don’t always place a bet, but I have a few times when I needed some extra cash.”
I raise my brows, eyeing her, surprised she would actually gamble after fussing about the guys being crazy to risk their money on ‘amateur wannabe racers.’
“Don’t give me that judgy look, Sadie. It’s easy money, and there have been times I really needed the cash. And, as much as it pains me to admit it, Kyle is a damn good driver—even if he is a ginormous asshat.”
“You could’ve asked me for money. I don’t mind helping if you’re low on funds.”
“But I mind asking. Besides, the guys are dumb enough to bet their money, so I’m going to cash in and use it to my advantage.”
“All right.”
“So, why don’t you come. I’m not gambling on the race tonight, just going for the hot guys and fast cars.”
“Sure,” I concede, knowing I won’t get any studying done because I won’t be able to focus. It’s been the theme lately, so I doubt it’ll end soon. Besides, maybe getting out will take my mind off of other things. And I do miss going to the Dome sometimes. It was one of the few times I felt like I was partaking in my life. Kyle will be too busy to even notice me there, so I should be able to slip away before he wants to hang out afterwards. His victory spin usually goes well into the night in the form of drinking and bragging for hours with the crowd. Maybe we don’t need to run away to join the circus after all, we have one ready and waiting on us at the Dome. And Lord knows, some nights the racing scene is way crazier than any circus I’ve ever heard of.
9
Dylan
Swiping the card across the elevator’s keypad, it beeps, lighting up green as I push the number to the penthouse. It’s not a surprise that Bryce elected to go for the biggest, most expensive room available in the hotel.
The car doors slide open and I step out, walking to Bryce’s room. I swipe the keycard again and the door’s lock disengages. Pushing it open, I step into the main room, glancing over at Bryce. He’s walking around in a pair of jeans, his hair wet as he towel dries it.
“Did you not hear me say to lay low?”
“I am. Just not literally laying low. What’s lower than the highest, off-limits room in the hotel?” Bryce tosses the towel on the massive couch as he sits down.
“Was this really necessary?” I hold up the keycard envelope that has DYLAN (stripper) written on it.
“Nah, but I thought it was funny as fuck.” As he laughs, and I have no doubt he enjoyed every second of picturing the hotel’s concierge handing the envelope to me when I asked for it at the front desk.
“Thanks for that.”
“No prob,” Bryce says, amusing only himself because I’m unable to find humor in anything around here. “You know, there’s plenty of room if you want to stay here instead of that miserable excuse for a crash pad you have.”
“The apartment is fine.”
“Okay. Well, when you change your mind, just use your stripper key.” Bryce jumps up, disappearing from the room as he walks through the doorway into what I’m guessing is a bedroom.
From the floor-to-ceiling glass wall, I look out over the small town, noting the university off in the distance, its football stadium in full view. There’re lights on at the stadium, the field is lit up but empty.
“Not a bad view, right?”
“Nope, not bad at all.” It’d be a great one if I were here for any other reason. “You almost ready? We need to get to the Dome soon.”
“How’d you score an invite so fast? I figured it’d take a while for them to warm up to you.”
“Nah. I found my in pretty quick.”
“Of course you did. Who can resist that hot stripper bod.”
“I doubt that’s what he had in mind when he invited me out to the race tonight.”
“Never know, but I’m glad you found a way in. Are you going to challenge?”
“Not tonight. It’s only practice runs. Tomorrow night is the one that counts. Just want to get a feel of the drivers … and the place.”
“Are you sure this is what you want? Once you go there, there won’t be any undoing it.” Bryce’s serious tone is more alarming than the fact that I have no hesitation.
“It’s already done,” I say flatly, stepping away from the window.
Bryce nods, staring out over the view of the town. “Let’s go show them Haine boys how it’s done.” His hand slaps my shoulder, and we walk to the door, exiting the penthouse to step onto the elevator.
As we’re walking through the lobby, Bryce glances over at the concierge desk, returning a quick wave to the clerk as he mutters, “I should’ve stuffed some ones in your pants for the walk of shame.”
“Just meet me there and try to stay out of trouble,” I say, walking towards my Subaru.
“No promises,” Bryce’s voice echoes in the parking garage as he slides into his Nissan. The GT-R roars to life and he speeds out of the garage as I’m barely making it to my car. Asking Bryce to stay out of trouble is pointless, but hopefully he picks the right kind of trouble to get into—just as I plan to do tonight.
10
Sadie
Stepping onto the uneven dirt field, my eyes study the years of wear and tear on the abandoned dome-shaped hangar as music blares from the speakers of a car parked near the starting line. Once a private airport that didn’t see much traffic in the small college town, it now serves as a temple for the local drag racers. Word is a former student purchased the land for the sole purpose of racing, but no one knows who owns it. Everyone pretty much treats it like the illegal scene that it is, keeping fairly quiet about it in hopes that no one gets caught, just in case. People in town seem to know all about the races, though, including the police, so it’s safe to say they don’t plan on breaking up the festivities. If zero happened after the accident, there’s nothing that will bring them out here. I’d been certain the Dome would get shut down, but from the looks of the crowd, which appears to have more than doubled since my last visit, it’s going strong. Hopefully, it stays that way and everyone has a good time and stays safe.
“Sadie,” Willow calls out, waving me over to where she’s standing next to Parker’s car. He hasn’t raced since the accident, and I wouldn’t blame him one bit if he never races again.
“Hey, you’ve finally returned,” Parker says, draping his arm over my shoulder as he leans forward to whisper in my ear, “Glad you’re back.”
“Me too.” I give him a pitiful excuse for a smile, but there is part of me that’s glad to be back here, hanging out like a normal person instead of hiding away in my room. Although, the other part of me wouldn’t mind going home. Why do I feel like two different people? How do I decide which is the real me and not just the show? I want to be here. Letting out a deep breath, I make a choice to have a good time. I’m here, so why not. Just enjoy the night. That’s the one and only goal. It’s not about Kyle, or Willow, it’s about finding some normalcy and deciding what I want my new normal to be.
The smile quickly fades when I spot a familiar STI pull up next to the gathering vehicles. It shouldn’t surprise me; he shows up everywhere when I’m not ready for him. But what does shock me is I want to know where’s he been all day. This is the fi
rst time I’ve seen him in person today … I’ve seen him in the corners of my mind all day, but that’s not the same. Shit.
“What’s he doing here?” I ask, watching as he steps out of his car. His fingers run through his dark brown hair, and my fingers itch to replace them.
“Hm. No clue.” Willow’s humorous tone isn’t lost on me.
“You knew he was going to be here, didn’t you?” I give her an accusatory look that her smirk answers.
“Parker might have mentioned that he invited Dylan tonight.”
“This is not helping anything.”
“Oh, I beg to differ,” Willow jokes, pointing over to Kyle who has his sights set on Dylan but is walking my way.
Wrapping his arm around my waist, Kyle pulls me to him, pressing his lips to mine. It’s odd for him to even notice I’m here, with his fan club present and all, so this takes me by surprise, and it’s a moment before I’m able to respond by pushing him away. “What are you doing?”
“Just getting a pre-victory taste,” he whispers in my ear, but I know for a fact his decision to kiss me was all about marking his territory. “We’re still on for tonight, right? We can celebrate all night.”
The thought makes my stomach turn. Thankfully, Kyle removes his hand from me as Andrew pulls him aside. The pair speak quietly for a moment before walking away. Between my stomach turning at the thought of him touching me and the relief that blooms as he moves away, I know the right decision where he is concerned. I just need to tell him. It feels like it’s been over for a while, like we’re both clinging to something that hasn’t existed since my mom died. I now know why I was clinging to him, and I can’t help but wonder why he doesn’t see it too. We have both changed.
Willow leans over, interrupting my thoughts. “Dylan’s watching you.”
Instinctively, I glance over, locking eyes with him. I don’t make a move to look away. It would be pointless because I’d still see him in my head, even though I shouldn’t. “It doesn’t matter.”
“Um. I think it does. He’s a much more appealing choice than the current.”
“I haven’t even broken free from the current so another one is out of the question. There’s enough going on without adding more BS to the pile.” I give Dylan one last glare before looking to Willow. She’s not buying what I’m selling.
“For now, but there’s always tomorrow.”
Reflexively, the words leave my mouth. “No, sometimes there isn’t tomorrow.”
A lump forms in my throat, but I swallow it down, taking a deep breath. I remember the moment my mom literally walked out of my life for the last time. Who would’ve thought a trip to the grocery store would’ve ended her tomorrows? I sure as hell hadn’t, and I know she hadn’t either. Looking down the runway, I think about the night Willow told me about the crash, another reminder that tomorrows aren’t guaranteed.
“Come on. Let’s watch from your car.” Willow loops her arm in mine, thankfully disrupting my dreadful reminiscing, and we walk behind the concrete barriers lined along the drag strip where vehicles are backed in.
Stopping behind my Mustang, we lean against the trunk, taking in a good view of the drag strip. It’s much better than near the starting line where people cluster together.
“Sadie, I didn’t mean to upset you,” Willow says, her pity damaging my already broken heart.
“You didn’t do anything wrong. Well, other than jump too quick to play matchmaker again.” Dylan isn’t the first guy Willow has nudged me towards. I’ve always known it’s because she hopes for a replacement for Kyle, but I’ve never wanted nor considered a replacement … until now, that is. Damn it. I definitely can’t admit any such thought to Willow. She’s already pushing the boat away from the dock without me on board. If she even had an inkling that I was interested in anyone other than Kyle, she would go all out. And even if there is a hint of interest towards Dylan, I’m really not ready yet.
We’re both focused on the track as the burnouts begin. It’s a welcome distraction to watch the car tires spin, throwing a cloud of smoke behind them before the drivers get in position for the race. Soon the race begins, quickly leading into another round. Both competitors complete the drag safely, and with each race that ends without a disaster, I relax and try my best to enjoy the night.
Fortunately, there’s only one instance when Dylan pierces my thoughts. I wonder if he’s going to race. Knowing he drives a STI, it wouldn’t be a far stretch for him to test it out on the track. Or maybe he just likes watching. Damn him and his stupid words for putting inappropriate thoughts into my head.
When it’s time for the final race, my question is answered, Dylan isn’t racing. Kyle, on the other hand, can’t go one night without defending his title, and he does just that as he effortlessly beats a Thunderbird down the track, leaving it behind from the launch. I should be happy for him, but all I feel is dread, knowing his head will only get bigger.
Willow and I make our way onto the track and are weaving through the crowd when Kyle spots us. Surprisingly, he heads my way. Pulling me into a hug, he swings me around before I can shove back from him. And though I’m leaning away from him, he tries (unsuccessfully) to plant a kiss on my mouth. Really, how has he not picked up on my vibe?
Anger flashes across his face as his arm tenses around me. “I’m sick of this hot and cold shit.” His disgruntled, harsh tone takes me by surprise, as does the volume with which he speaks. As in loudly—for everyone around us to hear. And they all glance over as he releases me.
“Me too.” But I’m not agreeing with him. It’s his hot and cold that I can’t get used to. He blows off his own wrongdoings but nitpicks mine, then quickly forgets them and acts like everything is the same as it was before. It’ll never be the same again. Ever.
A smile curls on his face as he steps back, looping an arm around the closest girl within reach. He wraps her in a celebratory hug, his eyes watching me. Then he leans down, giving her a quick kiss on the lips. It should piss me off. It should make me upset. It should make me feel something, right? But it doesn’t. The only thing I’m remotely feeling is annoyance at his childish ploy to make me jealous, or whatever he’s trying to provoke. No matter what his goal was, he failed.
“What a dick,” Willow says, grabbing my arm as she hauls me away. I nonchalantly follow her, still trying to figure out why I’m not angry. Willow is having more emotions about it than I am. No doubt she’s pissed on my behalf, figuring he’s just hurt me again, but still. Maybe I’m numb now and can’t feel anything anymore—except regret and loneliness. Those feelings are chronic. “I’m sorry I made you hang out here tonight.”
Turning to face her, I say, “It’s fine. I’m good, really. A little too good actually.”
Willow gives me a confused look as she glances over my shoulder to the crowd we just left behind. “Are you sure?”
“Yes.” I hesitate, but I can’t help asking the question out loud. “That should’ve pissed me off a little, right?”
“Um. Yes.”
“What’s wrong with me? It didn’t. I’m not upset at all. We’ve dated for years, and all I was thinking was I felt sorry for that girl.”
“That should tell you everything, because ‘that girl’ is you.”
Ugh. She has a point. I’ve been that girl for years.
“Let’s go home. I have to be up early for a 7 a.m. class that some lunatic signed up for.”
“Sounds good to me.” I follow her as she heads to the Mustang. She’d come with Parker but says she’ll let him know she’s leaving as she drops into the passenger seat of my car.
“On second thought, how about we grab something to eat before we head home. Either way, I won’t be good in the morning, so I might as well enjoy the night, good company, and some yummy food,” Willow suggests cheerfully.
Yummy food and good company sounds like what we should’ve done in the first place, but at least one good thing happened—I have no doubt what the next step is and who won
’t be coming along.
11
Dylan
Her Mustang drives out of the lot, disappearing into the night as I remain propped up against the driver’s door of my car. I knew Kyle was a piece of shit, but that display between the two of them tells me more than I need to know. She just calmly walked away after watching him kiss another girl. Either she doesn’t give a shit about him or herself, one or the other since she allows him to keep treating her that way.
Kyle slowly approaches, but I don’t make a move to acknowledge him. He stops a few feet away, folding his arms across his chest as he widens his stance. “You don’t belong here.”
I take my time, methodically tilting my head to look at him. For someone who covets strength and confidence, he sure is a pussy about owning it. I see right through the piss-poor front he puts up. Behind the weak-ass bravado is nothing but fear and misery.
“I said … you don’t belong here.” His pseudo-confidence slips as frustration laces his tone. He’s not used to someone not jumping at his command and his pitch borders on that of a moody child. He really should prepare himself because me following his orders wouldn’t be in the cards even if fate hadn’t already dealt the hand.
“Shouldn’t you be with your girl, celebrating your great victory?”
Anger covers his expression, confirming what I already knew, control is his vice and Sadie is his weak spot. I plan to exploit both to make him as miserable as he makes everyone else, Sadie particularly.
