Page 26 of False Start
“Yes. You do.” Her face is flat and her palm is sticking up, waiting for me.
I lick my bottom lip, choosing my next words very carefully.
“And what are you gonna do for it, princess?
She climbs over the middle console faster than the words are out of my mouth, straddling my lap, somehow squeezing in what little space is between me and the wheel. Her chest is pressed to mine, her face just an inch away from reach. She smells like summer, like berries and sunshine, and I want to know how soft her skin would feel against mine.
I clear the thought out of my head immediately.
“What’s your problem, Kitty Cat?” she asks, her eyes narrowing in amusement.
The nickname both enrages and sparks something inside me. I place my hands on either side of her hips andtry to lift her off, but with so little space to move, she has the upper hand.
“Give me my shit,” she demands, patting at my pockets.
“What shit?” I taunt, her hand moving from my sweatpants to the chest pocket on my flannel where said baggie resides, but I clasp my fingers around her wrist, locking it in place.
“Let me go,” she grits out.
“Nah.” I grin, leaning in closer. “I have you right where I want you.” I unbuckle my seatbelt, running my tongue along the edges of my top teeth.
She’s startled by the motion, pulling away, her eyes going wide like she’s not expecting it from me. Nia tries to break from my grip, but I’m stronger, and with the other hand, she attempts to reach into the chest pocket once more. My left hand locks the other one in the air as well, and now I’m in full control.
“Harvey!” She grunts my name in frustration, but I think I like the way it sounds coming from her lips.
“Say my name like that again.” I lift my hips up, forcing her to fall onto me.
“I can’t tell if you hate me or if you wanna fuck me.” She says it with little emotion, like neither sounds appealing to her.
Is her little flirting game unintentional?
The locker room, the straddling my lap, the awkward glances?
“Definitely hate,” I confirm, in case it isn’t clear.
“Pity. I need a pivot I can trust to have my back.” She pulls her wrists with a sharp jerk, freeing them from my hold before she climbs off me.
It stings more than it should, and it's from the sheer fact that she’s using Lonnie’s words against me.
The stripe and the star have to be impenetrable. The pivot should always be on the offensive, but the jammer should always trust that the pivot will have their back.
Back then, Mo was my pivot, and I never stopped to think how often my wins had been a credit to them, to the way they were both my shield and my sword.
Suddenly, my satisfaction sours. I fish the bag out of my pocket and toss it in her lap. Looking down, she closes her fist around it before she reaches for the handle. It doesn’t open. Nia tries again and grunts in frustration when, the third time, it still stays stuck. I reach over her, grabbing the handle and pulling it up before pushing it out.
“It sticks,” I explain, but she just gives me blank eyes before getting out.
The clock in my car says five till five. An hour and a half of practice, then at six-thirty, I’ll be reopening these doors for Tween Skate Night, an unbearable event that unfortunately brings in far too much money for any of us to turn our noses up against it. With Lonnie gone, we all help, making it two Devil’s Dame’s responsibility to man the rink on these nights.
Tonight will be me and StarScreamer.
I’m looking forward to spending time with one of my closest friends. Ever since Nia-Death’s return, it feels like everyone is slipping through my fingers. Not rejection, not quite that extreme, but the rift is there, and every day, it feels like it’s growing.
You can stop that from happening.
Something inside me speaks, but I don’t like what it has to say.
I didn’t ask for this, didn’t ask for my life to get turned upside down, for Lonnie to die. I didn’t ask for things to change.
