Page 11 of Pucking Unhinged
Madi looks up, blinking. “A what?”
“It’s an art form,” Callum says, grinning. He’s giddy because this isn’t about Oreos orMads. He’s just next on the list to rile Hayden up. “They dunk Oreos in pancake batter, fry them ‘til they’re golden, then drown them in powdered sugar. It’s like heaven and hell teamed up in one bite.”
Before Madi can answer, Hayden strides over and flicks Callum hard in the side of the neck. The crack of it echoes, sharp enough to make Callum gasp.
“Fuck—” Callum’s hand flies to his throat.
“Don’t say Mads again,” Hayden mutters, glowering at him. “I’ll fucking cut you, and Lilac doesn’t want to deal with all of that so shut the fuck up.”
The girls dissolve into laughter. Lilac turns to face Callum, soothing his neck, cooing at him while he milks the injury with a wounded look.
Hayden doesn’t even spare him another glance. His focus is already back on Madi, like no one else exists.
Winter drifts closer, her shoulder brushing mine briefly before she grabs my hand to pull me up to the table. She wants to help the girls, but clearly she wants me next to her.
She thinks these little touches are just comfort, just normal closeness. She doesn’t see that they’re all that’s keeping me upright.
My hand closes around her braid, stroking down the silk of it. To anyone else, it looks harmless.
Without her, I think I’d cease to exist completely.
WINTER
Tristan holds out the helmet he bought for me the day he bought his Ducati. It’s black with ballerina pink accents, and I love that he found the perfect one for me. His big hands are steady even though I can see the tightness in his jaw. I step closer, and suddenly it’s just us. His fingers brush my throat as he fastens the strap, and the small click of the buckle makes my pulse spike like it’s something far more intimate. His knuckles graze the sensitive skin just under my jaw, and I have to fight not to shiver.
Tristan’s big eyes lock onto mine. They feel like they’re burning into my skin. It’s too much, too intense. I second-guess every look he gives me because of what happened between us. Because sometimes I think he wants to pull me into his chest and never let me go, and sometimes I think he’s drowning in guilt and would be better off if he could forget me altogether.
He clears his throat. The sound is rough and kind of awkward, like it grates coming out of him. “You, uh, don’t want to ride with the girls in Hayden’s SUV, do you?” he asks me suddenly.
My chest tightens at how carefully he asks it, like he’s bracing for me to choose anyone but him.
My sweet, sad boy.
“I’d rather ride with you,” I blurt, no hesitation. Because with Tristan there never is any. I’d follow him anywhere, do anything just to be with him.
For a single second, his eyes widen, surprise cracking through his features. Then it’s gone, softened into something I can’t name but feel in every nerve ending. He looks at me now tenderly, almost reverently.
One thing is for certain. He’s never looked at anyone else that way. I know it. I feel it in my bones.
The silence between us stretches. The vibe between us is charged with downright electricity. In this moment, I decide to be braver than I’ve ever been in my life. “If given the chance,” I whisper, “I’d always choose to go with you.”
He exhales, almost a groan, like my words hit him hard. His hand comes up, cupping the back of my head, fingers sliding over my braid. The slow, careful stroke is too much, too intimate. My heart hammers so hard that I feel it thundering in my ears. I’m sure Tristan can feel it through the thin space between us, and I don’t care. I want him too.
For one terrifying, perfect moment, it feels like the world has narrowed to this magnetic pull between us.
Then the front door of our house bursts open behind me. Hayden’s voice ricochets across the porch, and I feel like asking him if he could possibly be more obnoxious. The answer is yes, so I don’t bother. Callum pushes him as they head toward Hayden’s SUV, and if Madi didn’t slide up and slip her hand into Hayden’s I’m fairly certain there would have been a tussle.
The spell is broken between Tristan and me, so I step back. Tristan swings onto the bike first, broad shoulders hunched as he grips the bars. When I climb on behind him, his hand finds my leg, cupping just above my knee. The squeeze is firm, a signal that we’re about to move. He could just tell me through the micin our helmets, but he doesn’t. He never does. Tristan always prefers touch to words, and I love that about him.
I lean forward, wrapping my arms around his torso, my palms flattening over the hard ridges of his stomach. I give him a small pat to let him know I’m ready. Heat radiates through my hands, and his muscles are so defined that I can feel every ridge through his sweatshirt. I think in this moment as I press my cheek against his back, that he feels like the home I always wished for.
The engine roars and the vibration runs up my spine in the most delicious way. Tristan twists the throttle as we take off and I catch sight of Callum jumping back at the sudden burst of sound, almost dropping Lilac’s bag as she climbs into the SUV. I can’t hear what he’s yelling, but I see it. His mouth working in curses, his arms flailing dramatically. Hayden bends over with laughter, Madi swats at him with both hands, and Lilac shakes her head like she’s contemplating getting a new fiancee and a new friend group. It plays out like a silent show, exaggerated and cartoonish, and I can’t help the quiet laugh that slips out of me. Tristan takes a hand off the bike once we’re out on the main road and covers mine rested against his stomach. Before I realize what he’s doing, he’s tucking my hands under his hoodie so my palms lay flat against his bare skin.
He’s so fucking warm.
I breathe deep, letting the spicy, masculine scent that clings to Tristan fill my lungs. He’s the only boy I’ve ever loved, even if I’ve never dared put the words to it. And now he’s not a boy anymore. He’s a man. One I trust with everything I have. I don’t even flinch when he takes off fast, when the bike tilts into a turn, when the speed climbs. My body just moves with his, natural and easy, like we were made to fit together in every way possible.
It isn’t long before the carnival glows ahead of us. I’m sad that the ride is short, but excitement zips through me when Isee the bright lights, hear the bursts of loud music, and smell the fried food and sugar. We have to park in a section that’s designated for bikes. As we walk up to the entrance to show our school identification cards, I can already tell that the night is going to be loud, chaotic, and crowded.
