Page 11 of Kash
Chapter 4
Spike
The skatepark’s empty again this afternoon, just me and the cracked concrete, the ocean’s roar mixing with the hum of my wheels. Maybe it’s the light rain, or the cold wind. Whatever it is, it means I’ve got a free reign, and I’m not complaining.
I’m pulling a new move—or at least trying to—the board scraping against the rail, when Kash’s face flashes in my mind again.
That kiss last night—wow, it was like a bomb going off.
His lips on mine, all heat and control, his hands pinning me to the wall like he owned me.
I’ve been with guys before, plenty of kisses I regret even though they seemed right at the time, but none like him.
Kash is different.
Older, harder, with that rough edge that makes my blood sing.
And that word—boy—the way it rolled off his tongue, like a command and a promise. I want more.
I wanthim.
But he’s playing hard to get, telling me to stay away, laying down his stupid rules like I’m some kid who needs a leash.
Rule one: don’t touch his bike.
Rule two: don’t come to his cabin unless he says so.
Rule three: do what he tells me.
Yeah, right.
I’ve never followed rules, not for my uncle, not for the cops, not for anyone. So Kash thinks he can tame me? He’s got another thing coming.
I finally land the trick, my sneakers hitting the pavement, and grin. If Kash wants to play boss, I’ll show him just how much trouble I can be…
I’m still buzzing from that kiss, my body aching for more, but there’s something else nagging at me. Those rumors at the diner—biker fugitive, cop-killer, five-grand reward.
Kash fits the bill too well… the way he hides out in that dump of a cabin, the way he watches the road like a hawk, the way he dodged my questions.
I’m not stupid. He’s running from something, and it’s big.
Part of me wants to know the truth, but the other part—the part that’s been replaying that kiss all day—doesn’t care.
Kash isn’t a killer, not the way those guys at the diner think. I’d bet my board on it. But he’s dangerous, no doubt, and that’s what makes me want him even more.
I kick my board up, catching it under my arm, and head toward the main street. Cresthaven’s almost as quiet as the skatepark, the kind of quiet that makes you feel like the world’s holding its breath.
The streetlights haven’t flicked on yet, but it won’t be long now. The air’s thick with salt and the promise of trouble. I’m not going home to my uncle’s place, where he’s probably passed out in a puddle of cheap beer.
The truth is that I really need to get my ass into gear and find my own place. But with my shifts at the factory so irregular, I know I can’t rely on having enough money each month to pay for rent and food. So, I’m pretty much spinning my wheels trying to save enough money to give me enough savings to take the step.
But saving is hard—and requires the kind of discipline that I pretty much blank out on the second I see a new skateboard or hoodie I want to make mine. Oh, and there’s also the small fact that my uncle will steal my money at the first chance he gets.
Urgh. Even thinking about my uncle is enough to harsh my vibe.
So my uncle’s place is out.
Looks like I’m going back to Kash’s cabin.
