“He shows me some stuff.”
I nodded and slammed the trunk, leaning a hip against the back end. “So you drive ‘cause he does, or is it something you love, too?”
His eyes narrowed. “What’s with the twenty questions?”
I held up my hands and pushed off my car. “Just making conversation. Contrary to what your brother says, I’m not that bad.”
I walked around the Mustang toward the driver’s side. I wanted to get home and get to work. The driving had been awesome; now I just needed some grease under my fingernails and I’d feel back on track. Besides, the sky was looking a little gray and moody. I wanted to get some work in before rain ruined it all.
“He doesn’t talk bad about you,” Arrow said.
I glanced over the roof; I know I looked surprised.
He smirked. “At least not to me.”
I respected a guy who didn’t teach his little brother to disrespect other people.
“Shouldn’t you be in school?” I asked.
He rolled his eyes. “I’m almost twenty.”
A little older than I thought. I cocked my head to the side. “You not in college?”
He glanced away. “I don’t like school.”
Why did I feel like there was more to it than that? In fact, why did I suddenly feel like there was a lot more to Arrow than just bleach-blond hair and ill-fitting clothes?
“So you’re more like a free-range chicken.” I nodded.
“A what?” he echoed.
“You roam free. It’s what you do.” I finished.
He laughed. I think it was the first genuine laugh and maybe smile I’d seen from this kid.
“I don’t roam. I drive.”
I chuckled. “All right, kid.”
“I’m not a kid.” He half growled, the annoyance clear in his face. In fact, the way his eyes whipped up to me and flashed said a lot more than his words.
“All right, Arrow.” I put emphasis on his actual name. Seriously, though, was that his real name? “You doing anything right now? Wanna drive?”
“With you?” His voice took on a curious tone.
“Sure. How about a friendly race?”
“Friendly?” He scoffed.
I felt my face crack into a smile. “Yeah, as in we won’t run each other off the road and I won’t take your money when I leave you in my dust.”
Arrow sneered. “I’m not that easy to beat.”
“Why do you think I’m asking you to ride?” I lifted a brow. “No one likes an easy win.”
Truth was the kid—I mean Arrow—was a good driver. I wouldn’t necessarily say beating him would be easy, but I’d be surprised if I lost. He just needed some practice and a couple more years.
“Where?” He lifted his chin.
I grinned. “Your turf. You pick the road, and I’ll follow.”
He shrugged. “Yeah, okay.”
I smacked the top of my Mustang. “Oh, hey, not downtown.”
“Why?” He glanced over his shoulder curiously.
“‘Cause I’m supposed to be at work right now.”
“You a free-range chicken, too?” he cracked.
“Just on days I’m sick.” I made a bogus coughing sound.
He tossed back the long hair falling over the side of his head and laughed. “Let’s go.”
I followed him… Okay, I rode his ass a few miles away to what looked like an old airstrip that wasn’t used much anymore. There was a chain-link fence around the wide, open area, and as we drove closer, I could see the long tufts of brown grass that had grown up and since died between some of the cracks in the pavement.
There was an old, all-white pretty jenky control tower that looked more like a lighthouse perched down the strip, with windows all around the top.
Parked near the fencing in the overgrown grass were planes that were old and looked abandoned. They weren’t the big commercial planes; most of these looked like they were (or had been) privately owned.
On the far side of the strip were some metal buildings, all with rounded tops and huge doors that opened. Basically, they were barns for planes.
Arrow pulled up to the gate and got out. My car idled behind his as I watched him jog over where it was locked. For as abandoned as most of the place looked, the lock and security was state of the art. After he flipped up some kind of latch, he moved to a sleek-looking keypad and punched a few buttons.
Seconds later, the chain-link gate swung inward. Arrow made a motion for me to follow him before getting back into his car and driving through. After I followed, the gates swung closed behind my car.
Maybe this place wasn’t as unused as I assumed. If so, why would anyone bother with such a nice lock?
I followed him across the pavement toward one of the longest looking strips. He stopped at a white painted line (not faded and chipped, but freshly painted), so I did the same.
He didn’t bother to roll down his window; he just revved the engine.
I did the same.
We took off seconds later, and I opened her up, but like always, never going as hard or fast as I knew I could.
It was awesome.
We did a couple drag runs up and down the strip. I beat him every time.
The fourth time I beat him, he hit his brakes and fishtailed to an immediate stop. I was a little more delicate.
He slammed out of the car and glared at me. “Why the fuck do I keep losing?”
I grinned. “You’re trying too hard.”
He cussed at me some more.
“You’re too worried about what I’m doing. Start putting all that energy into what you’re doing.”
He gave me a look and crossed his arms. “Aren’t I supposed to pay attention to you?”
“Yes and no.” I began and then straightened away from my car. “Obviously, you need to know where I am so we don’t collide. And obviously, you want to be able to anticipate my moves. But this is a private road. It’s just you and me here, and we’re dragging.”
“So?”
“So a lot of variables are taken out. Pay less attention to me.”
He nodded, thoughtful.
“And stop letting off the gas at the finish line.”
“I don’t,” he argued like I was insulting him.
“The fuck you don’t.” I chuckled. “Maybe you don’t realize it, but you do. Keep that foot pressed down all the way through the line.”
“I drive through the line every. Single. Time,” he growled.
“Yeah, and that’s good. Keep that shit up. But don’t slow down. Keep going, even if you think you’ll lose.”
He studied me like he was trying to decide if I was bullshitting him. I didn’t plead my case. I didn’t have to.
“Why would you help me?” He challenged.
“Why wouldn’t I?”
“Let’s go again.”
We lined up again and gunned the engines. We both tore off the line at the same time, and he did better. I don’t know if it was frustration at losing so much or maybe he took my advice, but he punched it more. He was more involved with his own driving.
This time I barely beat him.
(Maybe I slowed down a little.)
He didn’t hesitate at the end.
When he pulled up beside me and rolled down his window, the grin on his face said it all. “Almost!”
“I’m tired of driving in a straight line,” I told him. “What’s over there?” I pointed toward the plane barns.
“Race ya!” he yelled as his tires squealed away.
I gunned it and caught up to swerve around him and slide my car right in front of his. He swung out, and I hit my emergency brake and drifted into a wide circle. Doing this always made me feel a little off balance. Kind of like being on a ride at some theme park. The kind you loved but also made you want to hurl.
A feeling of Trent overcame me.
He didn’t flash behind my eyes. He wasn’t a picture in my mind.
He was a feeling.
>
Trent made me feel as if I were drifting in a circle. It was like catching a whiff of some cologne off a complete stranger at the mall, but the scent transported you back to something utterly familiar.
That slightly dizzy, somewhat nauseous but thrilling sensation filling me was no longer just a side effect of driving tricks.
It made me homesick for him. It had been only hours, but I missed him.
My car jerked to a stop. Smoke from the tires floated up around the body of the car and disappeared into the air. Without thought, my palm rubbed my chest. A little of the homesickness went away.
I pulled my hand back. Wonder what the fuck I was thinking.
Then I realized.
I’d been rubbing the mark he’d left on my chest. And it made me miss him less.
Well, damn.
A horn cut through the air, and I jerked. Arrow was already way over by the barns.
“Shit,” I muttered and hit the gas. I tore over the pavement and parked near the Camaro.
“So what is this place?” I asked as we both climbed out of our rides.
“It used to be the town airport, like back when I was a kid,” he explained.
I suppressed a laugh. I was very proud of myself.
Arrow went on. “But they built that new one on the other side of town.”
“You just have access to it?”
He shook his head. “My father owns this place. Keeps his planes here.”
I knew Lorhaven had money and he was born into it, but they had their own private airstrip. With planes?
“Good place to drive.” I looked around, choosing not to acknowledge the fact they were obviously crazy rich.
They weren’t the first I knew. Hell, I didn’t grow up poor. And I lived with two NFL stars. Money wasn’t new to me just because I wasn’t rolling around in it. No one wanted to be judged or even befriended based on cash anyway.
“Good place to work on cars, too.” He pushed away from the black Camaro and walked over to the nearest “barn.” I watched him click a button on his keychain, and the door to the thing swung wide.
Inside the dome-shaped building was a full-on garage. Man, was it sweet.
It was basically #CarGoals.
Before, Trent I would have said it was #Lifegoals.
I whistled beneath my breath. “This is a sweet setup.” I felt Arrow watching as I walked in and wandered around. My fingers itched to touch all the tools and the parts out for cleaning or just on display.
In the center was a freaking car lift. Like the kind you saw at car repair shops. Damn, that would be so nice to have. It would make oil changes and undercarriage work so much easier.
On the walls hung a bunch of ribbons and awards. There was even the title to the Camaro, Lorhaven’s Corvette, and a couple other cars I’d never seen them drive.
“So where’s all the cars?” I asked, motioning at the titles.
“In the next hanger.”
Large stainless-steel tool lockers and toolboxes on giant rolling casters lined the walls.
“Your favorite is the Camaro, though, huh?” I swung around to look at him.
He nodded. “It’s tough.”
I don’t know why, but to me, that seemed like an odd response. Did he need a tough car because he didn’t feel so tough himself?
God. I was turning into Oprah.
I needed some fries. A beer. And my person.
Not necessarily in that order.
I pulled my hands out of the pockets of my leather jacket and pivoted toward the entrance. My eyes caught a display nearby, and they about fell out of my head.
“Is that a vintage Benford sparkplug?”
“Yep.”
That sparkplug had its own gravitational pull. I couldn’t resist going over and letting my hands hover over the space above it. “I’ve never seen one of these in person,” I said, awed.
Serious car junkies sometimes collected rare or vintage car parts. Sparkplugs could be very sought after, including this one. It was plated with twenty-four-carat gold.
“You can touch it,” Arrow said from close by.
I hadn’t even noticed him approach. I was too blinded by the vintage beauty.
“Where the hell did you find this?” I asked, picking it up and cradling it gently. I smoothed my thumb over the sides.
“Not sure. It’s my brother’s.”
I grimaced. I’d forgotten about Lorhaven.
Reluctantly, I put it down and resisted the urge to pull out my phone and take a selfie with it.
Please. It would be better than those horrid bathroom selfies people post all over social media. Like, dude, no one wants to see your toilet.
“I’m sure your brother would blow a gasket if he knew you brought me here.”
“He’s not that bad.”
I leveled my eyes on his. “I still have the dents in my fender from when he tried to run me off the road.”
Arrow grinned.
“Anyway…” I began and stepped back from the sparkplug. “You’re doing better with the driving. Just remember what I said.”
“You’re leaving?” he asked.
“I got places to be.” T’s classes were letting out soon.
“I can help you with those dents if you want.” He offered.
I glanced up, and he looked away shyly. Poor kid probably didn’t have any friends. His brother likely scared them all away.
“Maybe another time,” I said.
I was almost to the door when he spoke again. “So what’s up with you and your manager?”
I stopped and turned. “What do you mean?”
“Haven’t seen him around much lately.”
“He’s been busy.”
“So he’s still around?”
I hesitated. “Yeah…”
“What about that pro driver? The girl?”
“Joey went back home.”
He was full of questions suddenly.
“Cool.” He shifted. Awkwardness was like his new best friend.
“I’ll catch you later,” I said, lifting a hand and waving.
“See ya,” Arrow called back.
That was weird, right?
In the car, the first thing I did was check my cell. There was text from T.
Class over. Stopping by the frat b4 I find you.
Want me to meet you there? I texted back.
No. I’ll come to you.
I knew he’d say that. Everything okay?
No.
My fingers spasmed around the black case on my phone. What the hell does that mean?
I turned the key and fired up the engine while I waited, impatient for a reply.
I miss you.
It was a good thing I was alone, because the goofy grin on my face when I read that would have been embarrassing.
Me, too.
I’ll hurry.
I dropped the phone in my lap and sped home. I even ran a couple lights just for fun.
Just as I turned onto my street, the sky opened up and rain literally dumped from the clouds. “Seriously?” I yelled upward.
A crack of lightning and the rumble of thunder replied.
“Assholes,” I muttered.
No one was home when I pulled in the driveway. Romeo and B left to do some NFL stuff this morning and wouldn’t be back until the day after tomorrow. Rim was probably at the shelter, and Ivy could’ve been anywhere. Probably at the boutique or shopping for her fashion channel.
Since Romeo wasn’t home, I took advantage and opened up the garage and drove in. He always parked here, but since him and his Hellcat would be gone tonight, I could do the work on my car inside, rain be damned.
The sound of the heavy drops splattering against the driveway (the door was still open) was kind of nice. After shedding my jacket, I got to work unloading the car parts and pulling out tools.
As I worked, my mind drifted to the place it always seemed to go lately.
Trent.
Trent
The sky seemed to open up out of nowhere. One second, everything was calm (but gray), and the next, heavy sheets of rain pounded my windshield.
I didn’t mind the rain so much, though. It had a sort of cleansing effect on things. Washing away the worst to give way to a clean slate.
Today had been long. People stared, people asked me about my bruises, and rumors flew. I didn’t do anything to dissuade any of the talk. Why should I?
Let the fuckers who worked me over get a nice heap of oh fuck. Let them hear it all, see it all, and get nervous. I saw one of the four on campus. The second he saw me, he turned and hiked the other direction.
The second classes were over, I went to the frat, did some obligatory shit, and then swung by a drive-thru on the way home. It wasn’t dark yet when I pulled into the driveway, though everything outside was shrouded in shadows and the sun was nowhere to be seen.
The garage door was open, and the Fastback was parked inside. The hood was propped up, and I smiled because I knew Drew was there leaning over the engine.
Almost as if he heard my thought, the top of his blond head poked up and stared out through the heavy rain to my car.
I cut the engine and pulled my black baseball hat a little lower to shield my face. Rain pelted me the instant I lurched out of the dry interior of my car, and water splashed up my ankles as I ran into the garage. Once there, I stopped and shook myself like a dog fresh out of the bath.
“What took you so long?” Drew griped, coming around the car. His blue eyes slid up my body and latched onto my face.
From beneath the rim of my hat, I watched him, taking in his familiar, welcome form. “Brought you some fries.” I held up a white paper sack. The coffee I’d gotten myself was still in the Mustang, long forgotten. Who needed caffeine when I had a dimple-wielding car addict in front of me?
Drew snatched the bag out of my hand and reached in to pull out a bunch of fries. I watched him shove them all into his mouth. The side of his cheek puffed out with the food, and his eyes rolled back a little while he groaned. “I needed these.”
Just like that, my day didn’t seem so long anymore. In fact, I stood there and prayed the minutes—no, the seconds dragged by from here on out because I wanted as much time with him as humanly possible.
“What about me?” I scoffed, mock indignation in my voice.
Drew shoved another huge bite of fries into his mouth. “Fries before guys.”
#Rev (GearShark #2) Page 11