“Alright, tough guy,” Nate laughs. “Pretty sure you made that exact same threat last time we saw you, and what happened? Hmm, I can’t seem to remember because you are so far off our radar I can’t even see you. Nash? You remember?”
“My old man smoked your ass by four car lengths with his sorry excuse for a car,” he says, coolly. Turns out that smile of his is useful for things besides making panties wet. It looks like it’s pissing the hell out of Mr. Clean. I’m totally cheering internally.
“Well you, little boy, ain’t your daddy.”
“Well then you shouldn’t have any problem putting up a k.”
A k? Like a thousand fricking dollars? What the hell.
Bald guy flinches at that. If he backs down, he’s gonna look like a total wuss. Even I know that.
“You got that much money on you, little boy?”
Nate pulls out a wad of cash and says, “You’re out of excuses tough guy. Put up or get out.”
“I’ll gladly take your money,” bald guy says before turning around.
As Nash turns me around I can’t hold it in anymore. The adrenaline is coursing through my body at an alarming rate. I don’t know what the hell I got myself into but it’s a rush like I’ve never felt before, and the race hasn’t even started. “Holy crap, that was badass,” I tell him, my excited eyes looking up at him.
He smiles at me. “I am pretty bad ass, Presley. Seems like you should know that by now.”
“But a thousand dollars? Holy shit. Are you nervous about losing it?”
“I want to say hell no. I have the better car, I’m the better driver, but anything can happen.”
“What do you mean, anything can happen?”
He shrugs at me. “Things can go wrong with the car, things can go wrong with the road, there’s nothing regulation about this, just a bunch of unknowns.”
“Oh shit,” I start chewing on my nail.
He grabs my hand and pulls it out of my mouth, holding onto it again. “It’s gonna be fine,” he tells me for what seems like the hundredth time.
“Have you ever gotten hurt?”
“Nope, never,” he tells me with a cute smile.
“And that’s not gonna change, right?”
“Nope.”
“You promise?”
He cocks his head at me. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say you’re worried about me. You might even care about me.” He wags his eyebrows at me.
Both those things were true before I showed up at his house tonight, but now they’re even more so. “Of course I do. And, I mean, you can’t kick that guys ass if you get hurt. And you need to kick that guy’s ass… I didn’t like him at all.”
He laughs, lets go of my hands and cups my face. “You’re so damn cute.”
I don’t have a chance to react because his attention is suddenly on the commotion behind me. “Come on,” he says, dragging me forward to where Nate and Nick are standing.
I watch two guys climb into their cars. They start their vehicles up and I startle at the noise, grabbing on hard to Nash’s arm. They each flinch forward, smoke pouring off their wheels. I don’t think this is part of the race, but I’m not sure. Eventually they stop moving, their engines still running, the sound shaking everything inside of me. There’s a big bearded man standing in front of the cars, motioning them forward to the starting line.
“Who do we want to win?” I yell over the noise.
“The Mustang,” he yells back.
I look at him blankly.
“Right lane,” he clarifies, pointing to the yellow car.
Suddenly, a bright light flashes and the two cars take off. “Holy crap,” I mutter at the intensity. Both cars jump, tires squealing and smoking. The Mustang looks like it’s doing a wheelie and the other car looks all squirrely and immediately everyone is screaming and swearing and cheering as the two cars go screaming down the road. I don’t know what’s gotten into me but I’m jumping up and down screaming for the yellow car to win, my heart pumping a million times a minute.
And then it’s over. Just like that.
Nash and his family and crew are slapping hands and throwing car terms back and forth – none of which I understand. And then the guy who started the race drops his walkie talkie from his ear and says, “Mustang by two lengths,” confirming that their guy won.
Money is being exchanged left and right, cheering and back slapping ensues and when Nick gets to my back and I stumble forward for the third time tonight, I don’t even mind, in fact I slap him back just as hard. And when Nash picks me up and folds me into his body, I wrap my arms around his neck and hold him just as tightly, squealing into his ear.
Nash was right, everything is happening too quickly. I want to see Nash race, but I don’t want this to be over. Nash stays by me through the first three races – two won by his crew- but now he’s at his car with his dad and brother and some of the other guys, the hood’s open again and I just hope everything’s okay.
For the first time since the races started my eyes veer to the crowd loosely surrounding the area where all the “car guys” are and I see a flock of people from school, including Brandon, Summer and Jolee. My cousin looks right at me with a murderous glare on her face. Excellent. She’s gonna make my life even more hellish just because I’m with Nash. Which reminds me, I don’t even have my damn camera. I see the truck and trailer parked over on the grass but ignore it when I hear Nash calling out my name.
I head over to him. “Stay by my dad, okay. I don’t want you getting separated from us and we have to move quick after I’m done.”
“Okay,” I tell him.
He gives me a tight smile and I don’t like it. I don’t like that he’s nervous because he’s never nervous. I want him to win, but more than that I want him to be okay. Before I can think about it, I’m up on my tip toes with my arms wrapped around his neck. He holds me close to him and I tell him, “Be careful out there, okay.”
“I try to be,” he tells me.
I pull back and look at him severely. “You try to be?”
He just smiles at me.
“Don’t try, just be. Be safe. Promise me.”
“Yeah, Presley.”
I’m annoyed that he won’t just say the words, but I hear Nate telling him it’s time to move so I have no choice but to drop it.
I let go of Nash but he doesn’t let go of me. He holds me to him, staring at me like he’s got something to say, making me nervous as hell. He moves closer to me and I can’t breathe. He stares at me with his green eyes, his lips parted, moving closer and closer to mine and I know I should stop him but I don’t know if I want to. When, at the last second, he shift his position and plants his lips on my forehead, I’m both relieved and disappointed. He lets go of me, and a second later, he’s in his car pulling up to the starting line.
I feel dizzy and confused, nervous and excited. Thank god Nick is right here with his arm around me because I might pass out.
Nash is in his car at the starting line, his engine roaring. I try to pretend like he’s not even in there. I try to focus my energy on the bald guy whose ass I want to be kicked.
The lights flashes, the cars take off with a loud ruckus, the other guy’s car starts fishtailing, getting way too close to Nash’s narrow lane. I’m holding my breath. Nick is holding onto my shoulder like a vice grip, Nate’s next to me yelling, “Sloppy mother fucker!” Oh god, I don’t think this is good.
I close my eyes and when I open them, bald guy’s got his car straightened out and Nash’s taillights have passed him completely. I let out a long breath of relief. And then I start going ape shit cheering for Nash. I’m jumping up and down, screaming my head off – it’s clear Nash has this in the bag. And I’m not the only one, all the guys around me are doing the same thing.
The tail lights are out of site now and the guys around me start slapping hands, celebrating. The official call comes back – Nash by three car lengths – and I’m in Nick’s arms and he’s swin
ging me around. I’m part of the crew at the moment so I get a hug from Nate and several slaps on the back. I have to remember to wear padding next time I come – because yes I’m coming back every damn week, or how ever often they have these things. This was the biggest rush I’ve ever felt.
Nash and his pathetic competitor come driving back down the road and Nick grabs my elbow and starts jogging me forward. When Nash gets out of his car, Nick, Nate and I are all there to hug him. He picks me up again and Nick takes over the driver’s seat. “Oh my god that was so incredibly awesome, holy crap!”
“Yeah? You liked it?”
“Liked it? Oh my god I loved it. Especially now that you’re done. And you’re safe. And you won!”
He slaps my ass, which I’ll address once the celebrating is done, sets me down, then tells me, “And I won a thousand dollars. That I gotta go collect.”
“Yes. Take that asshole’s money, you … super-fast… car driver, you.”
He shakes his head at me with a huge smile on his face, then goes to get his money. I’m standing by myself, grinning ear to ear like an idiot, when Summer comes up and gives me a tight squeeze. “So what’d you think?”
I hug her back and tell her, “It was absolutely awesome!”
“I thought so too.”
“Is it always this much fun?”
She shrugs her shoulder, “I don’t know. This is my first time too.”
“Oh, yeah… because of dance?” Most of the school is concerned, and blaming Nash, that Summer is no longer on the dance team. This town is so weird.
“Yeah,” she tells me with a tight smile. “I would usually be competing on Saturday’s.”
“Well I’m glad you’re not.”
Slowly, a smile covers her face. “Yeah, me too.”
Behind Summer I see Nash and his dad and brother heading our way. He smiles hugely when he sees who I’m talking to and I wonder why it was me with him tonight and not Summer. And then I remember why – the photos I never took. Damn it.
Brandon stops him before he gets to us and I realize we are suddenly surrounded by our classmates, including Jolee who joins Brandon to congratulate Nash. I laugh out loud when he shoves her off.
Summer looks and snickers too. “I bet it drives her crazy.”
“Huh?” I ask her.
“Your cousin – I bet seeing how close you and Nash are becoming is driving her crazy.”
I shake my head. “Not that we’re becoming close, but we generally keep our friendship hidden from her. I’m sure she’s ready to murder me now just because I was supposed to be Nash’s personal photographer tonight.”
“I guess we’ll find out,” she says as Nash heads our way with Jolee still clamoring after him.
“Hey, you,” Nash says, picking Summer off the ground with his big bear hug. I make a mental note to not bring up his overt affection for me over the course of the night – I would sound completely stupid. It’s clearly a side effect of adrenaline and nerves and it would be ridiculous to assume it meant anything more when she’s the one who’s meant to be receiving it. He looks at me and I roll my eyes at myself. He pinches his eyebrows together and I shake my head, trying to communicate that I wasn’t rolling my eyes at him.
“You did good,” Summer tells him after she’s back on the ground.
“Of course I did,” he tells her with his cute, real, smile.
“So,” Jolee interrupts loudly, “You need a ride back to Carver?” she’s staring at me, but I don’t respond. Our moms send us out of the house together regularly despite our protests, but she’s never voluntarily offered to bring me anywhere with her. I look around like maybe there’s someone standing behind me. “I can ask Shelby if there’s room in the backseat. I’m guessing you want to go see your boyfriend.”
Oh, shit. Angel. I completely forgot about his party. “Yeah, that would be great,” I say even though, honestly, I’d rather get back in the truck with Nash. But that’s not where I belong.
I feel the, now familiar, force of a slap on my back and Nick says, “Sorry girlie, she’s part of the crew tonight so she’s gotta ride back with us.”
My eyes immediately go to Nash. I’m guessing he would like to offer the spot on his lap to Summer. He looks damn irritated. “Really, Nick. I’m gonna head back with my cousin.”
“Nope,” Nick tells me. “We came together, we leave together. You kids get moving. Nash, we need to get the hell out of here.” And before I can protest further, he’s got me spun around and heading towards the truck which is back on the road, Nash’s car loaded onto the trailer.
“I really think Nash would have preferred me going with my cousin,” I mutter.
“Do we smell?” he asks, throwing me.
“What? No.”
“Well good, then there’s no reason you can’t tolerate us for a while longer.” He drops me off at the open passenger door but I don’t climb in. I turn and watch Nash as he stalks towards us, hands stuffed in his pockets, his demeanor completely changed. “Sorry about him,” he mutters when he gets to me, he doesn’t pause though, just climbs up into the truck, reaches out and hoists me back onto his lap like the ragdoll I apparently am.
9
It’s annoying as hell how one stupid little move on Presley’s part can completely destroy my mood. Tonight was good. Actually, it was fucking great. I smoked John Boy without even trying and won a thousand dollars. But that wasn’t even the best part. The best part was Presley.
I liked having her by my side. There’re usually girls on me at the races but on the road, getting ready to climb in my car, is about the only time I don’t appreciate a female’s attention – it’s too damn distracting. Maybe, in the past I would have wanted Tatum there, but she never was. She always thought the whole thing was stupid and reckless and claimed she wasn’t interested in watching me die.
But Presley… she was so damn excited and cute. And she was worried about me. And having her in my arms helped my nerves. She let me hold her; didn’t even try to push me away once. In fact, she climbed right up on me at one point. And after she did that I wanted so badly to kiss those fat, red lips of hers. I almost did. And I think she might have let me.
When the race was done and I was driving back all I wanted was to have her back in my arms and to see the excitement on her face. And she didn’t disappoint. She was there with her arms wrapped around me, the biggest smile I’ve ever seen on her face.
And all of that, all that fantastic shit, wasn’t even the best damn part of my night because I spent an hour and a half with her on my lap, wrapped up in my body, my hand tangled with hers. And I swear to god I’ve never experienced anything so fucking exciting. I’m not one to beat around the bush when it comes to women – I usually get to the point as quickly as possible- so that truck ride was a first for me.
Every small touch from her felt intensely satisfying and left me wanting so much more. But the more wasn’t my hands on her tits, her hands on my junk or even sex. It was more of her hair brushing across my neck, more of her body pressed up against mine, more of her fingers touching mine or her breath on my skin. It was a kind of intimacy I’ve never known. It felt secretive and a little wrong but, honest to god, nothing’s ever felt so damn right. It was like some weird sort of slow seduction that was the sexiest thing I’ve ever experienced.
I was looking forward to the ride home- now that the race is over, my dad and brother are breaking down the entire night with some very colorful, loud language and the radio’s on, which would mean a little more privacy on this side of the cab. But the girl on my lap is not the one I brought here.
As soon as everyone from school was surrounding us I got her same predictable bullshit – her animated face announcing to everyone around us how much she despises me, her mouth making sure everyone there knew she’d rather not be riding back with me.
I swear to god, I’m never gonna learn.
She’s stiff, leaned against the door so as little of her is touching me a
s humanly possible. I’ve got one hand gripping onto the grab handle and the other one clamped onto my leg just to guarantee I don’t accidentally touch her and have to endure one of her seething glares.
She leans forward, pulls her phone out of her backpack and turns it on. It’s literally a foot from my face so I can’t help but read the texts from Angel:
How’s it going? Is it a redneck utopia?
Should I be worried that I haven’t heard from you? Hopefully you’re just on some road running the hell away from race night. If so, call me. I’ll come pick you up
Just talked to Summer… said you’re on your way back. Let me know if you need a ride here
She tilts her phone away from me, probably so I don’t see the insults her immature, pretentions boyfriend is throwing at me. He’s lucky I don’t have time to worry about his skinny, straight-laced ass. “I saw the texts, Presley. You’ve gotta be smart enough to know I don’t give a shit what he thinks about me,” I mutter, interrupting her rapid texting.
“He’s one of Tatum’s best friends. You can’t really blame him for not being your biggest fan.” She lets out a long breath, turning her phone off and shoving it back in her bag.
I ignore the Tatum comment. That crap will be haunting me forever and I try damn hard not to perpetuate any of it. “I’ll get you to your boy as soon as we’re back at my place.”
“I’m sure I can find a ride,” she mutters, turning her body and resting her shoulder against me. “Your gigantic bicep is getting in the way of my head.” She looks up at me with her big doe eyes and even though her lips are in a grumpy pout and she’s dating the biggest jackass ever, she melts me a little.
“I would move it but that would mean touching you and I’m not sure your boyfriend wants you being touched by a redneck.”
She reaches behind her, yanks my arm down, then tells me, “Why are you letting his stupid, ignorant texts get to you? You just said you don’t give a shit what he thinks.”
A Son of Carver (Carver High #2) Page 11