Until You (Fall Away Series) (21 page)

I liked it when she looked at me.

Taking off her jacket, she tossed it to K.C., who I still hadn’t looked at. I guess she messed up her shirt and needed something to cover it.

And holy fuck.

I swallowed hard.

Tate’s white tank top was thin, tight, and I could see her nipples hardening against the night air.

I looked to Ben who had done a double-take. He was trying not to look at her, but it was hard.

Goddammit.
I clenched my teeth.

The idea of ripping over there and hauling her all of the way home was tempting.

And if he kept fucking staring at her like that, I was going to dig out his teeth with a spoon.

They both turned back to the race, and K.C. put on Tate’s jacket.

Madoc and Liam finally rounded the fourth corner, but Madoc had a heavy gain. Crossing the finish line, the crowd clapped and waved their hands in the air, clearly pleased with their bet and the show.

Ben smiled down at Tate, who laughed at the rush of air brought on by the cars. She hated Madoc, so I assumed she was just fascinated with the scene rather than his winning.

They laughed and talked, looking completely comfortable with each other.

Really?

Tate didn’t want comfortable. She wanted to get pushed. She wanted someone’s hands and mouth on her, driving her insane. She wanted to be made love to in the rain.

And right now, she was trying to be someone she wasn’t.

Grabbing K.C. at the waist, I pulled her into me, and her eyes widened in surprise.

“For Liam, remember?” I whispered, not doing this for her in the least.

Trying to make Tate jealous was idiotic, but I wanted to see if she’d react. She’d certainly gotten good at that during the past month.

K.C. looked nervously to Tate, and I was afraid she was overthinking. Playing around in front of Liam was fine, but she probably had a huge problem doing anything in plain sight of Tate.

After a few moments, though, she gave in and wrapped her arms around my neck. I took the invite and dipped down to kiss under her jaw.

I buried my face in her neck, trailing soft, slow kisses up to her ear, my brain telling my body what to do.

Honestly, I’d rather be kissing Madman, but I could feel Tate’s eyes on me.

Stop
, I told myself.
If Tate sees you pawing her friend, she won’t let you touch her.

“Everyone clear the road!” I heard Zack shout, and I snapped my head up, too eagerly. “Trent and Roman, get your asses on the starting line.”

I ran my hand down my face.

Fuckin’ finally
.

Walking around and climbing into my car, I started the engine, feeling the thunder under my body. I lived for two things: tormenting Tate and tearing up the track.

Even though everything I made at the Loop went to my father, I still loved racing. My foot twitched at the feel of the pedal, and my hands had mastered the maneuvers of my car perfectly. I could work the wheel and get the machine to steer, slide, and turn the exact way I needed it to.

It was two minutes, once a week, when I loved my life.

Still Swingin’
by Papa Roach screamed from my speakers as I pulled my Boss 302 onto the track. My black Mustang was charged, fast, and completely me. It was the only thing my mother let me buy with the money from my grandfather’s house. It was paid for and my only outlet when I needed to get away from people and get lost.

Derek Roman, a freshman in college and former classmate, made it back to town once in a while to race. He pulled his 2002 Trans Am up next to mine, and my fingers tightened on the wheel.

He carried some weight. Some people bet against me tonight in favor of him. Kind of insulting, but it served my needs. The smaller the odds, the bigger the payoff.

“All right!” Zack called out, his voice deep and commanding. “Clear the track for the main event of the evening.”

With the college kids back at school, we had fewer races happening now than during the summer. Madoc’s and mine were the only ones tonight.

Reaching into the pocket of my jeans, I dug out the fossil necklace and hung it around my rearview mirror. I caught sight of Tate watching me through the rearview mirror, and my throat got thick. I didn’t know if she could see, but I definitely didn’t want her to. The necklace, her mother’s, would be hard to explain.

Devon Peterson, one of the few hot girls I wouldn’t touch with a ten foot pole, sauntered up in front of our cars in her short school-girl skirt and spaghetti strap shirt. She was a year behind me in school and had made it very obvious that she was available if I was interested.

I wasn’t.

She was actually down to earth and nice, but she was nice to everybody. That was the problem. Sometimes you just had to know when a good time wasn’t worth the risk.

“Ready?” she called out, her eyes sparkling at me.

Come on. Come on.
My left knee bobbed while holding in the clutch.

No girls, no parents…just me, running from all of them.

“Set?”

Roman and I revved our engines.

“Go!”

My legs jerked into action, one easing off of the clutch, and the other hitting the gas with full force. The tires spun for a brief second before Roman and I took off down the track. My stomach dropped, and I smiled at the feeling.

I loved this shit.

Gripping the steering wheel, I pounded in the clutch again as I shifted into second and then straight into third. I’d often forget and try to skip gears the way I did when I wasn’t racing, but you can’t do that on a track. My mother got aggravated last year when she bought a new car—a manual—and I taught her how to drive it.

“What do you mean, I can skip gears? Jared, they wouldn’t put them there unless you’re supposed to use them.”

I just shook my head at her, realizing it wasn’t worth the aggravation.

The Boss jerked again when I slammed down into fourth, and I let the music and the car tear me up into a thousand pieces and scatter me to the wind. I couldn’t think or worry about anything, even if I wanted to.

This is where I lived. The Boss wouldn’t fight me. I owned it, inside and out.

Roman and I charged head to head, but the first turn was coming up. I had a slight gain, but he wasn’t slowing down.

Fucking prick.

Someday I was going to have to give this guy the beating he deserved. We wouldn’t be able to make the goddamn turn together, and he knew it. One of us would have to slow down, and it wasn’t going to be him.

And he knew that I knew that.

I strangled the steering wheel and slammed on the brakes, pulling behind him and onto the inside lane. Right on his ass, I breathed hard and shook my head, trying to keep my lead foot from ramming his car.

Pulling the wheel to the left, I rounded the first turn, kicking up dust and feeling the car’s rear slide as my heart pounded in my throat.

But Roman’s car slid more.

Shifting back into second and hitting the gas, I turned up Godsmack’s
I Stand Alone
and fucking took off.

Each second, my blood vibrated through my veins stronger, and I didn’t care whether I won or lost. Nothing could ruin this for me, and nothing could make it better.

Through each turn, Derek Roman cut me off and made me pull behind, or I spun out more than I wanted. Either way, I wasn’t gaining a lead, because the asshole would rather play bumper cars than race.

Asshole.
I was breathing a thousand breaths a minute, not because I was nervous, but because I was fucking pissed.

He’s rather see our cars totaled than see me win.

Laying on the gas, I gripped the wheel as Roman and I charged ahead. The crowd flew past the car, and my stomach fluttered as we finally crossed the finish line.

I let out a breath and gritted my teeth, slowing the car. I wasn’t sure if I’d lost, but I wasn’t certain I’d won, either.

And at this point, I really didn’t care.

I wanted to hit something, and Roman was it.

Bolting out of the car, my arms were as rigid as steel bars as I rounded the car and met him halfway.

“You’re an asshole,” I ground out.

Please. Take a swing.

We were almost nose to nose. Roman was about the same height as me, but not quite.

“You were pushing into my lane!” he sneered. “Or maybe you just don’t know how to handle your car.”

I almost laughed.

“There are no lanes on the track.”
Idiot.
“And let’s not talk about who can’t handle their muscle.”

Roman, greasy, black hair slicked back, pointed his finger in my face. “I’ll tell you what, Princess. Come back after you’ve grown some balls and taken off your training wheels. Then you’ll be man enough to race me.”

His voice sounded like garbage cans slamming together, and he needed to shut up.

“Man enough?” I asked, making sure my twisted up face looked like that was the stupidest thing I’d ever heard. Spinning around to address the gathering crowd, I held up my hands. “Man enough?”

They knew better, most of them my classmates.

And, as if on cue, Piper stepped out of the crowd and headed straight for me. The crowd didn’t fight to contain their excitement when she glued her body to mine, with her hand on my ass, and kissed me slow and deep.

It was like an invisible pair of arms pulling me back, trying to get me out of her grasp, and I had to remind myself to dive, not swim.

I grabbed her and ran my hands down her sides, feeling the heat of her tongue touching mine.

This was what I needed.

Piper was easy.

But as the crowd roared at our display, my lips tensed and the kiss got rough.

She tasted like ash.

Tate flashed through my head, and so did the memory of her mouth.

The crowd cheered more as I threw myself into putting Roman in his place, but this was all wrong.

“Okay!” Zack cut through the crowd. “Out of the way, out of the way.”

Piper smirked at me and stumbled back into the crowd and her waiting friends who giggled.

“Listen up. We have some good news and bad news.” Zack looked around, speaking more to the crowd than to Roman and me. “The bad news is that we’re calling a tie.”

Everyone groaned and a few cussed.

Jesus Christ.
I let out a breath.

“But, the good news is,” he rushed to add, “we have a way to solve the stalemate.”

And then he let out a god-awful grin that made bile rise in my throat. Zack could be devious.

“A rematch?” I hoped.

“Kind of.” His smile widened. “If you boys want to settle this, then your cars will race again, but…you won’t be the drivers.”

My eyes burned. I couldn’t blink.

What the fuck?

“Excuse me?” Roman blurted out, inching into Zack’s space.

“We know you’re exceptional drivers,” Zack assured. “The race was close enough to prove that. Let’s see who has the better machine.”

Enough already.

“So who’s going to drive the cars?” I shouted.

Zack’s lips thinned out. “Your girlfriends.”

WHAT?

“Oh, yeah!” some idiot in the crowd laughed like it would be great entertainment.

No one, and I mean no one, was fucking driving my car!

The spectators gathered closer to hear the fall-out, and yes, there was going to be a fall-out. Roman and I would agree that this idea sucked, while most of the crowd would gladly lose money to see a couple of girls race.

“Dude! That’s not happening!” Roman scowled and looked over at his girlfriend. She was cute as hell, but the petite brunette looked like she had just enough muscle to drive a moped and nothing more.

I smiled to myself, thinking about how Tate would do against her.

Nope. Don’t go there.

“Zack,” I sighed. “I don’t have a girlfriend. I
never
have a girlfriend.”

“What about the pretty little thing you arrived with?”

I twisted my head and gave K.C. an aggravated look. I assumed he was talking about her.

Her eyes about popped out of her head when she saw our attention focused on her.

“He’s just my rebound,” she held up her hands and joked. The crowd covered their mouths and laughed, taunting me like I should be hurt.

K.C. couldn’t help but smile at her cleverness, and I raised my eyebrows at Zack, hoping he understood.

“No one drives my car,” I stated.

“I agree with the Princess here,” Roman piped up. “This is stupid.”

“The crowd’s already seen you two race. They want to be entertained. If you two have any interest in settling this score so people can get paid, then you’ll play it my way. Be on the starting line in five minutes or leave.” He turned to walk away but stopped. “Oh, and you can ride shotgun if you like…you know, for moral support.” The last words broke up as they left his lips.

The dickhead was laughing at us.

“This is bullshit.” I combed my fingers through my hair and walked back towards Madoc and K.C. as Roman stalked over to his crowd.

I straightened and fisted my fingers over and over again. If Zack weren’t a friend, I might have to cut him.