Joey was everything Drew wanted in a girl, and I wasn’t.
Hell, I wasn’t even the right gender.
I could tell by the way he was with her, Drew was interested. It thrashed my insides.
I retreated like a fucking coward to lick my wounds, to sink even further into the dark shadows of isolation. I avoided Drew as much as I could. I avoided Romeo and Braeden, Ivy and Rimmel. I even avoided little Nova.
It hurt. It hurt to separate myself from the people I’d made my family.
But I couldn’t be around them and not see Drew. They’d know something was wrong.
And I wasn’t ready to tell anyone.
Fuck, I was barely able to admit it to myself.
I was going to lose my family over this. And my best friend. I’d graduate college and move on.
They’d all be gone. I’d be alone.
I dropped my head back against the seat and stared up at the grey fabric on the ceiling. I didn’t know what to do.
Maybe it isn’t only Drew, a voice whispered in the back of my head.
I sat up, intrigued by the thought. Maybe I would be attracted to other guys, too, like other gay men. Men who understood what I was feeling. Men who’d been where I was.
The truth was I wasn’t fighting being gay. I was fighting being in love with my best friend.
It would ruin everything, my entire family.
But if I loved another man… I could keep my friendship. I could keep my family.
For the first time all week, I felt like maybe there was some hope.
I needed to test this theory. I needed to see what it was like being around other men, to see if I could feel something for anyone other than my best friend.
I pulled out my phone and started searching.
Drew
Twice.
That’s how many times I saw Trent this week.
Once when I showed up to introduce him to Joey and once a few days ago when I stopped by to give him a car part I’d ordered for his Mustang.
He’d been on his way out, so I literally handed him the part, we exchanged a few stupid pleasantries like strangers, and then he left.
So basically, I’d seen him not at all.
His reaction to Joey wasn’t what I expected either. He was stunned at first, of course, about her being a girl. We all totally expected a dude.
I know. What a sexist thing to say.
But in my defense, there were hardly any female racecar drivers in the pro circuit and almost as few in the indie world. It just wasn’t common.
She could drive. She proved it that first day on the track and then countless other times this week when we’d go out driving.
She was basically hell on high heels.
Yep. She drove in heels.
She was something.
I was thinking about asking her out. I mean, why not? She was hot, drove like a badass, and had a smart mouth.
I liked her.
But something held me back. Every time I thought about seeing if she’d be interested in taking more than the cars for a ride, I didn’t.
She was kind of my co-worker.
It would be unprofessional to date a co-worker. Even in a world where there were no rules and she’d be going back to where she came from soon.
Maybe it wasn’t because she was a co-worker.
It was something else. Something that made me uncomfortable and kind of squirmy to think about.
How was I supposed to think about it anyway when all I could think about was driving and the lack of T’s presence?
We were definitely avoiding each other.
He started it. But I hadn’t tried very hard to find out why. I, too, was participating in the avoidance.
I missed him. Like someone ripped a gaping hole in my life, in my chest. The cold air whistled through it constantly, creating an odd, painful ache.
Deep down, I suspected why we were dancing around each other this way. Maybe I should just admit it to myself. Say the words inside my own head. Try them out.
I’m not ready.
“Earth to Drew,” Joey said, waving her hand in front of my face.
I snapped out of my head and back to reality. “Huh?”
She made a sound and set down her fork. “You wanna talk?”
I blinked and glanced around the busy restaurant as if I suspected someone might know what I’d been thinking. We’d stopped in here for a bite before we hit the streets. We’d been at the Chesapeake Speedway three nights this week already, so tonight I wanted to really take to the open road.
I was so anxious to open up the full power of my car the balls of my feet itched. I felt like I was filled to the brim with tension and anxiety, and the only way to get it out was going to be to drive so fast it all blew away.
“Sorry,” I mumbled and picked at a fry on my plate. “I was just thinking about something I wanted to try with my engine.” I lied.
She was eating a giant salad. No fries. ‘Course, even if she had ordered them, I wouldn’t be eating them off her plate. They wouldn’t taste as good.
“Look, I know we’ve only known each other a week, but it seems like something’s bothering you,” she said point blank.
“You’re direct.” I hedged. “I like that.”
“Yeah, well, I come by it honestly,” she muttered.
“What do you mean?”
She sighed like she was sentenced to some chore she didn’t want to do. “Ron Gamble is my father.”
I abandoned the fries I wasn’t even eating to gawk at her. “What the what?”
“Can we skip the whole oh my God thing?” She moaned. “We already did that when you saw I was a girl.”
I chuckled. “You get that reaction a lot, huh?”
“Are you kidding? Being a girl and Ron Gamble’s offspring is a double-edged sword.” She picked up her Coke and took a sip. I really appreciated that it wasn’t diet. And her salad had steak on it. Most girls drank diet or water and ate lettuce.
It was totally boring.
“I guess I can see how it might be an issue.”
She gave me a bored look. “The odds are stacked against me. I have to prove myself twice as much because I’m a female driver. Then when I do smoke all the meatheads on the track, it’s because Daddy bought me fancy car parts, got me fancy training, and paid my way into the pros.”
“You want to be known for your talent and skill,” I stated.
“Just like every other driver on the road. It’s a constant fight.” Weariness crept into her tone.
I bet she intimidated about ninety-eight percent of the men she met. She was strong, independent, and went after what she wanted. She clearly excelled in her chosen sport and didn’t try to ride the coattails of her rich father. Hell, I hadn’t even realized she was his daughter. Clearly, they kept it on the down low as much as possible. Not to mention she was beautiful and the descendant of a very powerful man…
Yeah. The deck was stacked against her.
Kinda made me feel better about my shitty week.
Yeah. I was an ass.
It was going to take a strong man to stand next to a woman like her.
“You should make it easier on yourself and stop driving in heels,” I said.
She looked at me funny.
I shrugged. “Well, clearly, you already have enough to battle against. Why strap those demons on your feet? Wear sneakers. Might as well be comfortable while you piss off everyone.”
She burst out laughing. When she got herself under control, she flipped her wild curls over her shoulder and squinted at me. “You don’t care, do you?”
“That Gamble’s your father?” I shook my head. “Nope.”
“That’s a nice change.”
“If it makes a difference…” I began and leaned forward across the table. “I think your success is even more impressive now that I know. Having him as a father is definitely a career handicap. But you keep going anyway, and you’re a good driver. For a girl.�
�
She threw a piece of bread at me. It reminded me of how I always blew my straw paper at Trent.
“I’m not that successful,” she said. “Yet.”
“You’re an up-and-comer. It’s just a matter of time.”
“How do you know?” she asked.
I gave her a level look. “I looked you up. Impressive stats.”
“You looked me up?”
I don’t know why she was surprised. “Think I was going to drive with someone who knew all about me and I knew nothing about them?”
“Fair enough,” she allowed.
“You were on the drivers to watch list for next season in GearShark.”
“It was a very brief mention.” Her voice was clipped.
“You sound bitter.”
“Maybe a little. All the men had bios posted. All I had was one line of stats. Nothing else.”
I’d noticed that, too. Must be hell to be a woman in a male-dominated sport.
“Well, it will be even sweeter when you leave them all in your dust and start making covers.”
“So what about you?” she asked, changing the subject.
“What about me?”
“You were about to tell me what’s got your panties in a bunch.”
I scowled. “I don’t wear panties. I wear boxer briefs. Wanna see ‘em?” I wagged my eyebrows suggestively.
She couldn’t be distracted. “Is it Trent?”
I sobered. “Why would you ask that?”
She shrugged one shoulder. “I’d gotten the impression you two were close. But he hasn’t been around at all this week. I thought maybe that’s why you’re acting like someone stole your favorite toy.”
Perceptive.
And annoying.
Luckily, I was saved from answering when my cell rang. I pulled it out quickly and glanced down with a little bit of a flutter in my stomach.
I knew he’d call.
But it wasn’t him.
My mood darkened and my stomach turned sour. It was a number I didn’t recognize. I wasn’t going to answer it, but if I didn’t, I’d have to keep talking to Joey.
“What?” I demanded. I never said I had to be friendly.
“Impromptu race down near River Falls Street. Buy-in is four grand. If you commit, you’ll be number five, making the pot a twenty grand take. You in?”
I whistled low. “Twenty grand? That’s some high stakes.”
Joey looked up, interested.
“Lorhaven’s call,” the voice, which I did not know, said. He was talking low and hushed.
“Lorhaven know you’re inviting me?” I asked.
“Nope. Thought it might make things interesting, though. Make him work a little harder for a win.”
“Who said he’d win?” I countered.
The person laughed. “Exactly.”
I made a sound. “I’m real tempted. But I don’t have four grand lying around.”
“Damn. That’s disappointing.”
“But thanks for the invite.”
Joey practically leapt over the table. “Do it!”
I glanced up. “What?”
“A race?” she mouthed.
I nodded.
“What?” the man on the end of the line asked. He’d thought I was talking to him.
“Hang on,” I said and looked at her.
“I have the money. Let’s go.” She slapped her napkin on the table and stood to grab her leather Moto jacket off her chair.
Excitement pumped into my system. “Actually. I’m in,” I said. “When’s it starting?”
“Five minutes,” he answered.
I hung up and stood. “We gotta haul ass, woman.”
“My first street race.” The curls on her head bounced with excitement.
I threw some money on the table to cover the bill and reached for her hand. “C’mon, I’m about to show you how the other half of the racing world drives.”
Trent
I lied to Drew.
I told him I had frat business and couldn’t hang with him and Joey tonight.
Then I called a cab and met it across campus, away from the Alpha U house. After I gave the driver the address of the place I wanted to go, I shut my phone off and slid it into my pocket.
I was nervous and kinda scared, but not enough of either to change my mind.
Instead, I sat in the back of the cab and thought about Drew. I knew I shouldn’t. But it was something I’d never allowed very much before.
Before, I’d been too busy denying how I felt.
I didn’t have to deny it anymore. At least inside my own head.
So I thought about him. About the way I sometimes ached to run my fingers through his hair when it was messy. How his laugh made my stomach tighten and how when I stared at his fingers gripping a steering wheel, I’d sometimes wish it were my hand.
I also allowed myself to think about the way it felt to have him in my arms. He was strong and capable. His body was hard, and his arms gripped me tight. I loved that. I’d always been the one to do the holding, with women. It was me who wrapped around them. They were always so small and fragile.
Not Drew.
He had arms capable of holding me, shoulders broad enough to rest my head on. I wouldn’t have to be conscious of my size as much with him. I wouldn’t have to worry I might hurt him.
If anything, he had the power to hurt me.
I’d never felt vulnerable before. I wasn’t sure I liked it.
Thirty minutes later, the cab pulled into the lot of a well-lit building. Cars filled the lot, and music filtered out from inside. I paid the astronomical fare and stood in the lot until the driver was out of sight.
The door to the place swung open, and two guys came out. They were laughing and had their arms loosely slung around each other. Even though I stared at them, they didn’t see me. To them, they were alone.
When one drunkenly stumbled, the other picked up his slack and righted him. “C’mon.” He chuckled. “Let’s pour you into bed.”
“Only if you come with me,” the drunker of the pair said.
“Just like every night.”
They moved off in the opposite direction toward a line of cars. I asked myself how seeing and hearing them made me feel.
I searched for the most honest answer I had.
They made me homesick.
For Drew.
The place was called The Eight Ball. It was in the next county over, away from Alpha University and everyone I might know. Along with being a full-service bar, there were also pool tables and a setup for a live band on the weekends.
And one other detail: this place was predominately a gay bar.
It was the kind of place I knew I could come to and see what I… um, felt.
Figuring I spent enough time standing around in the parking lot, I headed inside. At first, I felt kind of awkward walking in, kinda like it meant I had a neon sign around my neck that was flashing “I’m gay” in bold letters.
But when the door closed behind me, no one turned to stare. The music didn’t screech to a halt. It was a bar just like all the others I’d been to.
It was a big place, with the big square bar anchoring the center. On every side, there were stools, and the bartenders worked out of the middle. I couldn’t help but wonder if they felt like they were in a fishbowl.
Spread around the bar were tables of varying sizes, and high-backed booths lined the walls. It was darker over on that side of the bar, and I didn’t pay too close attention, figuring that’s where the guys who wanted some privacy went.
I wasn’t ready for that.
On the other side of the room were the pool tables, and all of them were full with guys playing games. Then on the other side of the tables was a stage where I figured the bands set up and played.
It was clean, the music was loud and current, and everyone seemed to be having a good time.
Unsure what to do, I walked around to the side of the bar where there was a couple op
en stools and sat down.
A bartender appeared in front of me. “Hey, man. What can I get ya?”
“Draft beer. Whatever’s good here,” I replied.
He moved off the get it, and I couldn’t help but wonder if he was gay.
What a stupid thing to wonder, I told myself. I didn’t care if he was. I didn’t care if he wasn’t. The way I saw it (and always had), it didn’t matter. All that mattered was he wasn’t an asshole.
But I guess questioning myself made me want to question others.
“Five bucks,” he said when he came back and set the amber liquid in front of me in a frosty glass.
I slid the money across the glossy bar top, along with a tip. He winked at me. “Thanks, hot stuff.”
I felt myself blush.
Guess that answered that question.
He moved off down the bar and started slinging drinks like he could do it in his sleep. Hanging nearby on the wall was a large flat-screen turned on to the sports channel. I watched that and sipped my beer.
A few minutes later, the bartender appeared again. He leaned his elbows on the top in front of me. “First time in a place like this?” he asked.
I pulled the beer away from my lips and grimaced. “That obvious?”
He laughed. “No, but I usually recognize all the faces. Yours I don’t.”
“I’m not from around here,” I answered.
“Fresh meat,” he mused.
“What?”
“Did you come alone?”
I nodded.
He straightened off the bar and smiled. “Well, you won’t be alone long.”
I didn’t really get the chance to think about that because someone sat down beside me. He was wearing a red flannel shirt and jeans. His hair was light brown, long, and pulled back. He was nothing like Drew.
I smiled at him. “Hey.”
“Hey. What’re you drinking?”
“Whatever the bartender handed me.”
He laughed, genuine.
The bartender stopped in front of him and winked at me as if to say, Told ya.
“Bud Light,” the guy said.
Seconds later, the dark longneck appeared on the bar.
“What’s your name?” he asked, turning back to me.
“Trent.”
He nodded. “Max.”
Max had some scruff on his jaw, a little lighter than the hair on his head. It reminded me of Drew. I’d often wondered what it would be like to kiss someone with facial hair. I wondered if it would feel rough or silky.
#Junkie (GearShark #1) Page 13