by CJ Adler
“Typical,” Grey mutters to himself, rolling his eyes at the black car as if he'd expected as much.
A woman in a short skirt and stilettos walks forward, holding a red and white checkered flag. She lifts the flag and all the cars begin to follow the black car, revving their engines violently as if to intimidate one another.
The sound is tumultuous, vibrating throughout the dodge suburbs, probably echoing for miles out.
I watch Jay, only to see that he has his eyes on the prize. He couldn't care less about what he's up against. If anything, he looks too relaxed.
“Ready,” the girl shouts before waving the flag down, “go!”
There's a large gust of wind and a whole lot of noise as they all set off to the streets, Jay taking the lead from the very start.
I smile proudly. He's got this.
When they take a corner and disappear from view, I turn to find Grey glancing down at me with a frown.
Time to change that!
“Hi, Grey!” I chirp ecstatically, the hype of being here getting to me. “Hey, whoever you are,” he greets under his breath, seemingly irritated. “Charming,” I tease, wondering what his problem is. Maybe it's because he's been put on babysitting duty.
“Can't believe JT actually brought someone here.” He glances over at me, taking in my appearance. “Just never expected you to be his type.”
What is that supposed to mean?
“Jay and I are just friends, but he thinks friends are overrated, so maybe it's one-sided. I didn't give him much of a choice. I forced him to bring me here,” I confess. “I noticed you call him JT…he hates it when I call him that. Are you two friends? I thought Jay doesn't have any friends because he likes his solitude. I'm the complete opposite, a social butterfly in actual fact. I don't even know how we get along. Well, actually, come to think of it, we don't get along at all. We constantly bicker and—”
“Woman, woman,” he stresses, interrupting me, “shush.”
“Rude.” I frown up at him, meeting his gaze head-on.
“You talk too much,” he clarifies bluntly. “No wonder he doesn't consider you a friend.”
Without thinking, I stomp down on his foot, hard. He jumps up and cradles his right foot as he hops around on his left foot, swearing his lungs out, dropping the lone wolf act. I can't help but laugh as he yells directly at me. “What the hell is the matter with you!?”
I shrug, mimicking Jay's earlier words. “A lot of things, apparently.”
It's in that deadly, terrifying moment when Grey looks down at me with murderous eyes that I finally take in his appearance. His cool voice matches his dark hair and gray eyes. In actual fact, he's not bad looking at all. He's built well and isn't covered in tattoos or reeking of alcohol like Geezer. He's civil. Jay trusts him and that makes me automatically trust him by default. Other than his entire personality, he seems decent enough.
“I'm stuck babysitting a child when I could be participating for the heck of it,” he complains, settling down after the whole stomping incident.
I stare up at him and let him vent. It seems like he needs it.
“Why are you looking at me like that?” he eventually asks.
“Your eyes are really gray, you know that?” I state with a happy-go-lucky smile. “So is your demeanor. Is that why they call you Grey?”
“They call me Grey because it's my name,” he answers through clenched teeth, clearly still enraged with me.
“Well, that's boring,” I offer my opinion on the matter.
I take the time to look around, only now noticing all the smashed and stoned people lurking around in the shadows. Some of their eyes wander to me in curiosity. It irks me. I stick out like a sore thumb. I don't fit in here.
I'm just glad Grey is here or else I'd be freaking out. It's now clear why Jay never wanted to bring me here in the first place. Chills run down my spine at the thought of them cooking me in a giant iron pot. Subconsciously, I loop my arm through Grey's, hoping for some form of protection from all these unsavory characters.
He stiffens, glancing down at me as if awaiting an explanation. He sees my face and quickly picks up on my anxiety. He rolls his eyes and detaches himself from me. “You're one of those rich, prissy girls, aren't you?”
I tap my chin in mock thought, not giving him an answer. I do not need to disclose my home situation to a stranger. “You have me pegged incorrectly.”
He notices my discomfort, quickly realizing his judgmental error. He reaches up and scratches the back of his neck waywardly. “I'm sorry…” He falters, feeling guilty.
I laugh, not taking him seriously. “Relax, Grey.” I grin. “I promise I don't bite.”
“Probably only marauder on flesh, right?” He cracks a joke, yet keeps a serious face.
“Ooh.” I wince. “That insult was so good that I've lost the ability to see in 3D.”
He scoffs, a grin pulling at his lips as he turns his head to look away.
“So, you and JT friends then?” I ask, changing the subject.
“We don't use the term 'friend' lightly around here. In ancient history, a friend would be someone you'd make a personal covenant with. You'd be prepared to lay down your life for that person. That's what a friend was, and for us, still is,” he explains, and for once, I actually find myself listening.
This guy takes life way too seriously.
“So JT is your friend then?” I repeat, baffled by his first response. “Acquaintance,” he corrects. “Friends are overrated.”
That's Jay's famous line. That confirms it. These two are friends.
We lapse into this weird, uncomfortable silence. Grey seems content with it as he waits for Jay's return. I, however, hate silence. It makes me nervous.
I touch Grey's arm and check the time on his watch. Ten minutes have gone by since the race started. Who knows how long they will still be? All I know is that I have to end this tense silence. Now.
Grey's a racer too. What do you talk to a racer about? “So NOS then? Some fast ass shiznit.” I nod with certainty, sure of myself.
To my surprise, he actually laughs. He glances down at me with a half-smile.
“You're something else.”
Taking that one as a compliment.
“What?” I ask, trying to play it cool as if a racer too. “'Need for Speed' has
NOS in it.”
“That's a game,” Grey points out before actually smiling at me. “I didn't catch your name,” he reminds me, his interest spiked.
“That's because I never threw it to you,” I joke, earning myself another glare.
He doesn't bother asking again. Instead, he checks his timer and hovers his thumb over the 'stop' button. “And in three, two—”
He's cut off by the sound of a strong engine with a ton of horsepower roaring past us.
“One,” he ends with a boastful smirk, pressing down on the 'stop' button just as Jay's red Gallardo flies across the finishing line in style.
I clap my hands in excitement at the sight of Jay rounding his car, doing donuts in the dust as if to show off. I don't even take much note of the black car appearing in second place. Instead, I'm sprinting my way over to Jay, eager to congratulate him on his win.
As soon as Jay steps out of the car, I'm right there, embracing him on impulse. He chuckles, catching me off guard as he returns the hug with affection. Surprisingly enough, he's not shoving me away this time.
“You won!” I squeal, ecstatic for him. “You made it look too easy.”
“Well, obviously,” Grey snorts, interrupting our moment. “JT's a champ.” “Thanks.” Jay grins at him with true modesty in his voice.
Grey returns his grin and pats him on the back, no words needed in order to express his pride in his friend.
The guy that had been competing against Jay, walks over to us. Angry, he wordlessly tosses keys at Jay before nodding at a GT not too far off from us.
“Thanks.” Jay grins at the guy before attempting to hand the
keys to Grey. Grey arches an eyebrow at Jay, puzzled.
“You got yourself a new set of wheels,” Jay explains, holding out the keys to his friend.
Grey's eyes widen as he takes the keys, doubtful. “Are you for real?” Jay just nods. “All yours.”
“Thanks, JT.” Grey doesn't waste another second to go and check out his new ride, forgetting to say goodbye.
Jay throws an arm around my shoulder and leads me back to his car.
“That was fun,” I chirp, making light conversation.
It was definitely worth coming here. This, racing, is his safe haven.
“Always,” he agrees with ease.
“Aren't you ever afraid that you'll crash and burn?” I ask, recalling the day my mother died. There are even greater risks of that happening when it's illegal.
“That got dark real quick.” He chuckles before shaking his head. “I've been doing this for a while. It's my lifeline.”
“You're great and all, but you might slip up and lose control someday,” I express my concerns to him, hoping that he'd at least hear me out.
“Then pray that that never happens,” he answers in nonchalance, unaffected by my words. “I certainly do, every day.”
“You pray?” I find myself asking.
“When you've been through hell, you learn to.” He laughs humorlessly as he reminisces back on something, his gaze hardening at the memory. “Besides.” He shrugs, pulling himself together. “I got to thank someone for my gift,” he jokes.
“Street racing is legendary, but I'm still going to get you out of it,” I tease playfully.
“And I'll be waiting.” He winks at me, not taking me seriously at all.
“Just watch,” I threaten him in the nicest way possible.
“I am.” He humors me. “Front row seat and everything.”
“I'm serious, Jay.” I narrow my eyes at him before looking away, this all meaning a lot to me. “I'm going to save you from yourself, your stubborn, ignorant self.”
I glance up at him a second later when he falls silent, failing to respond.
“Jay?” I nudge him, cautious. “I didn't—” “You already have.”
I furrow my eyebrows in confusion, opening my mouth to say something, but find myself speechless. I rack my brain for anything to say, carefully mulling over his words, but come up short-handed.
“Nonetheless, 'my stubborn, ignorant self' appreciates you looking out for me,” he adds, a smile flickering over his lips.
“Yeah, okay, whatever.” I brush it off in speed, changing the topic at hand.
“Just know that next time, I drive.”
“So long as it's not my car that you're driving.”
***
“So, you wear hats all the time because…” Jay trails off, waiting for me to answer as we enter the bar. It's his shift.
“And you wear leather jackets all the time because…” Boss Man asks Jay as he passes us by, shooting me a wink as he rises to my defense.
Jay rolls his eyes after him, a smile on his face. He turns back to me, still waiting for a legit answer.
“Because,” I simply answer, trying to find a way to divert his attention off of me. I don't like being analyzed and questioned about my personal style.
“I'm not insulting you,” he assures me. “Personally, I think it suits you,” he compliments, walking off before I can react.
My phone starts to ring. I grab it out of my bag and answer it without first checking who it is. “Hello.”
“Hi, Aqueela,” a voice replies. “It's Dylan. I'm calling because I want to ask—”
I cut him off as an unfocused frown takes over my features. “Dylan?”
Why does the name sound so familiar?
“Dylan. Your friend Bella gave me your number because you lost mine.
Dylan, from the ice cream store Dylan,” he reminds me, his tone indicating that he's taken offense.
I snap my fingers at having a lightbulb moment. “Hot, sexy manager dude?!” I raise my voice in recognition, rendering who he is.
“What?” is his reply from the other end of the line.
I try to explain. “Sorry, I—”
“You call me all those things?” he suddenly asks.
I don't answer, well more like can't answer. I have already given myself away.
He lets out a laugh from the other end of the line, obviously finding my names of endearment for him entertaining. “It's okay. Really. I like it.”
Why can't all males just evacuate and find their own damn planet?!
“Anyway, I wanted to finally take you out on that date you promised me. You free tomorrow?”
I have been dreading this very phone call. I don't like him like that. He has no, as Blubber would put it, 'Cool Guy Jay' qualities in him. He will never live up to
Jay, and if I go on this date, I'll be comparing everything he does to Jay all night long.
I need an excuse.
“Well, actually, I'm busy tomorrow. Rain check?” I ask.
“The day after tomorrow?” he asks, his confidence now wavering.
“Also busy,” I murmur into the phone, wincing on his behalf. “Day after that then?” he asks hopefully.
Catch a hint buddy. Why must he be so persistent?
“Well, uhm, I have this, uhm, thing, so…” I falter nervously, losing my train of thought, now sprouting garbage. “I'm busy for the rest of this year and the year after. In fact, the next century really. So—”
Before I can finish my sentence, the phone is suddenly snatched out of my hand by none other than Jay himself. “Hey, man,” he greets into the phone.
I raise my eyebrow in query, momentarily forgetting that Jay enjoys befriending my enemies. Dylan made 'partial enemy' the second he took down my photo and replaced it with a visibly wider photo of Blubber.
“Of course. Nah, we didn't have any serious plans. Aqueela just felt bad on canceling lunch tomorrow with me. I told her that it's all good. So she will see you tomorrow then at seven?” Jay asks, holding a thumbs-up to me.
I frown and shake my head, indicating to him to stop.
“Okay, great, I'll let her know.” Jay grins, nodding at me.
I shake my head profusely, hoping that he'd get the message seeing as Dylan clearly didn't.
“What's that? Is she excited?” Jays repeats after Dylan before casting a glance my way.
I send him a bored glare, picking away at my nail polish.
“Very,” he lies. “She's practically jumping up and down as we speak.” He ends the call after that and tosses my phone back to me. “You're welcome.”
I fumble, almost dropping my phone, but end up catching it just in time. I whip my head to scowl at him. “What the hell?”
Jay shrugs and stuffs his hands into his front pockets. “I got game. I scored you a date with hot, sexy manager dude tomorrow at seven.”
“I didn't ask you to do that,” I point out.
He shrugs before trying to move past me.
I cross my arms and block his only path in escaping. “I don't like Dylan. I don't want to go out with Dylan because I don't like him. You hear me? I don't like him,” I repeat, trying to get it through his thick skull.
“Aqueela, you should go out with him. He seems to really like you,” he replies, averting his gaze as if too ashamed to look me in the eye.
“Fine.” I sigh, leaving the bar in need of some 'me' time.
“I knew I'd find you here.” I jump at the voice as I turn to find Maggot behind me. “Figured you'd be with him.” He motions with his eyes toward Jay who is now serving drinks to a pretty, petite blonde.
If anything, Jay seems out of it. He's unfocused and keeps messing up the tricks he usually pulls off. I turn back to face Mason, a frown set in place on my lips.
“What do you want?” Of all times, he has to grace me with his unwanted presence now.
“I need to talk to you,” he answers, glancing to behind me.
I follow hi
s gaze to see Jay's gaze trained solely on me.
“Alone,” Mason emphasizes loudly as if to make sure Jay hears.
I open my mouth in protest, but he doesn't give me the chance to argue. He grabs me by my hand, pulling me after him.
Mase leads me to the back of the bar. “I've just—” He stops himself when
he sees my face. “Are you okay?” He asks, placing a hand on my shoulder. “No,” I mutter truthfully, taking out my anger on the wrong person. Mason's brown eyes fill with worry as he brings me in for a warm embrace.
He rubs my back gently. I smile against his shoulder, already feeling better.
“Are you actually willingly hugging me?” I tease.
“Don't start with me, leech.” He cracks a smile, pulling away. “What did you want to talk about?” I ask, now curious.
He pauses for a second before blurting out the unthinkable. “I'm breaking up with Bells.”
Slap!
It was on impulse. Mason rubs at his cheek as if having already predicted that slap. I grab him by the shoulders and shake him violently, trying to drive some sense into him. “Listen here, Maggot, and listen well—”
“Aqueela—”
“You will, and I repeat, you will not break up with Bells. Do you understand? You will not crush her and break her heart! Not, not, not! Never ever! You're marrying that girl and starting a family with her whether you like it or not!” I snap in a dark, threatening tone, a tone that I didn't even know I was capable of using.
“Actually…” Mason scratches the back of his neck as he shifts position, “I already broke up with her.”
Slap! Slap! Slap!
“Are you out of your mind?!” I shout at him, blowing both our eardrums in the process.
I lift my hand to slap him through the face a fifth time, but he sees it coming and catches my hand in his. He uses this opportunity to yank me forward. I stumble into his chest. I immediately try to move away, but he won't let me.
“Wha-what are you doing?” I stammer, confused, but beginning to understand—I'm right where he wants me to be.
He doesn't answer and instead tips his face down, leaning in toward me.
“Stop, Mason,” I demand the second his lips brush against mine. I hastily push him back. “You love Bells, stop this and go back to her before you lose her for good. You need to figure out what it is that you want.”