Page 78 of Hyperspeed
“Will there be a next time?” He asked the question, vulnerability and yearning lacing it, as if he was hoping I’d invite him back.
“Yeah,” I replied, and his posture relaxed. “You’ll have to build your own vehicle, though.”
He threw his head back and laughed at the night sky, easy and unguarded. When he dropped his chin to his chest, he looked at me from under his eyelashes.
“Will you help me?”
I scoffed. “Obviously. Al wouldn’t trust you in his garage unsupervised.”
“Figured as much.” He winked before melting into the crowd.
As I watched him disappear, I wondered how the fuck we’d ended up here . . . and where did we go next?
Speech Now or Forever Hold Your Peace
Kai
“Which shirt makes my eyes pop?”
“The green one.”
“There is no green one, you wanker,” Jax complained.
We were both in Jax’s hotel room, getting ready for tonight’s event. Well,Jaxwas getting ready. I’d dressed in my room before heading to his.
Now I sat on his bed, playing holo-games on my watch and trying not to text Rev for the hundredth time this week. All the while, my best friend had been agonising over his outfit choices.
For an entire fucking hour.
“Kai!”
When I lifted my head, I saw there was in fact no green shirt.
“Find a green one, then,” I shot back, returning to level twenty-three ofPlanet Popper.
“It’s either white or cream.”
“They’re the same.”
“They arenot,” he snapped, throwing both shirts onto the bed with a huff.
There was another party tonight; hence, his reason for stressing.
The Cosmic Racing Federation dinner was an annual event, and one of the most important in the racing calendar.
Well, at least for the officials.
For the drivers, it meant squeezing into stiff tuxedos and getting paraded around like prized show dogs.
Every year, I waited for someone to grope my arms, comment on the sheen of my hair, and peel back my lips to inspect my teeth, before finishing off with a pat on the ass and a condescending “good boy.”
After losing the game for the third time in ten minutes, I switched over to a brief message thread on my watch.
Our last exchange was a week ago, when we’d talked about the underground circuit. Since I’d left him at Al’s shuttle, I’d hovered over the reply button more times than I could count. Typed messages, deleted them. Thought about calling, then chickened out.
I wanted to reach out, but I held back, afraid that one wrong move would send him running.
Rev was like a feral stray, hissing and growling if you got too close. All prickly fur and sharp edges. And the moment you reached for him, he’d go wide-eyed, stiff as a board, then bolt like a flash into the shadows. Probably to sulk behind a bin somewhere, licking his wounds and pretending he hadn’t even wanted your attention.
