Page 54 of Burnout
“Thanks.”
The guy walks backward slowly, smiling at Knox. “I’ll give you twenty bucks if you let me drive her around.”
“I wouldn’t let you lay a finger on her for twenty bucks.”
“The bike or the girl?” He smirks and lets his gaze slide over to me.
Knox gets off the bike and holds out a hand to me. “Either, but especially not the girl.”
I’m struggling to figure out how to get off without flashing anyone. Knox notices and silently steps in front of me, blocking me out of view from everyone but him.
Quickly and without thinking about how I’m probably still flashing him, I throw my leg over and stand in front of him. He places both hands on either side of the helmet and gently lifts it up.
“Helmet hair,” I say with a laugh as I run my fingers through my tangled hair.
“You look stunning.” He brushes a blonde strand out of my face and tucks it behind my ear, then sets the helmet on his bike and then takes my hand. He guides me down to the center of the track. “Come on. It’s about to start.”
“Wait.” I glance back. Next to his motorcycle, three others have parked. Their riders are watching us, and it could be my imagination, but they look nervous. “Are we going to watch a race?”
My heart speeds up.
“You are,” he says.
I don’t quite catch his meaning before he pulls me toward two girls sitting on an orange and blue flannel blanket. I recognize the redhead as the rider on Colter’s team. “You remember Brooklyn?”
“Uh, yeah. Hi.” I raise a hand in a wave. She doesn’t reciprocate except to lift both dark brows at me.
“Stay with her, okay?” Knox asks, then without waiting for an answer, he turns to leave.
I catch him a few steps away. “Wait.You’reracing?”
He’s so casual and calm, stopping and facing me like he has all the time in the world. When I know that isn’t true. It’s soobvious now. The other guys are waiting for him, revving their engines impatiently.
“Don’t worry. It won’t take long. I’ll be back before you can miss me.” He tosses me a wink and then turns, finally breaking into a jog as he heads back to his motorcycle. I stand watching him until he pulls on his helmet and starts the bike, then I walk back over to Brooklyn. She tips her head toward an empty space on the blanket with a look that I wouldn’t exactly call inviting.
“This is Tate,” she says, motioning toward the blonde girl on the other side of her.
“Hi. I’m Avery.”
Tate waves, but then our attention all goes to the guys preparing to take off.
“Are the other riders any good?” I ask without peeling my eyes from Knox. What I mean is, are they as good as he is, but I don’t know how to ask that without sounding like a fangirl.
“Fletcher used to race Moto GP,” Brooklyn says, and when it’s clear I don’t know what that is, she snorts. “He’s good.”
“So is Bobby,” Tate adds. “But Knox has only been beaten once and I heard that he had the flu that day or something.”
“Knox probably started that rumor himself.” Brooklyn flashes me an amused smile. “Your boy is good, and he wouldn’t have brought you here if he thought he’d lose.”
My stomach dips and my face warms. “He’s not mine. We’re just hanging out. I’m training him.”
“Oh, I know.” Her smirk stays put. “The guys on the team gossip more than I do. Until tonight, I thought ‘training him’ was code for sex.”
“Like I was sleeping with him to help him ride better?” I ask, voice too high-pitched as I ignore the throbbing between my legs at the thought.
“It’s not totally ludicrous. Sex is good for confidence, which is key when you’re free-falling with your bike,” she says with ashrug, then looks me over closely. “But you look too wound up to be fucking him.”
My mind reels and I am utterly lost for words. I manage to mutter, “Oh. Yeah, no. I’m not sleeping with him.”
