Chapter 20
CHAPTER TWENTY
Christian
“God-fucking-dammit!”
My dirt bike's riding like shit. There’s no other way to say it.
The engine screeches, suspension wobbling just enough to set me on edge as I hit the ramp. Taylor cheers from the other end of the dirt lot behind my mom's house, where we practice for our shows. He's been watching me try to land this jump for forty minutes.
This bike is normally sleek and fast—responsive to my every touch. I know her body like the back of my fucking hand, but I can’t figure out why the piece of shit stuttering between my legs sounds like it's hacking up a lung today.
I land with a thud that rattles my spine. The bike fishtails, throwing gravel into the air, and I overcorrect before laying the bike down hard.
“?Ay carajo!” Gritting my teeth, I slide across the dirt for a fraction of a second beneath the two-stroke. Rocks snag my sleeves and bounce off the helmet until we finally skid to a stop in a patch of weeds. “Motherfucking shit!”
My ears ring and for a long moment, I just lie there staring at the cloudy sky while I catch my breath. That’s the second time I’ve crashed today, Jesus Christ.
It isn't until Taylor's face appears above me that I start to feel the burn on my arms.
“You okay, man?” he asks, lifting the bike enough to unpin my leg. “That looked like it hurt.”
With a groan, I rip my helmet off and sit up. Sweat drips down the back of my neck despite the chill in the air. “I can’t get the lift on this shit today.”
“Hey, it wasn't so bad.”
“She's been slow and the throttle fucking sticks,” I growl, gesturing violently at the bike.
My entire arm aches from the tumble, skin scraped up and bleeding.
It’s not the worst crash I've had, but I wasn't going that fast either.
According to Salem, the band doesn't need us to do anything too complicated.
They're willing to pay us two and a half thousand each.
Which is something, I guess. It'll cover rent.
Tay grimaces as he hauls me to my feet. “I don't think it's the bike, man.”
“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”
“Means you're the one that's sucking.”
I flip him off and scowl when he returns it with both fingers.
“Look,” he sighs, unzipping his moto jacket, “your head isn't in it, dude. Feels like it hasn't been for a while. Maybe you're losing interest, or getting rusty—”
“Getting rusty?” I nearly throw my helmet to the ground. “I’ve been doing this shit since we were five! I'm a fucking pro!”
“Yeah, well, right now you look like a newbie riding drunk.”
“Fuck you.”
He grins widely and blows me a kiss, unfazed by my outburst. “You wish.”
Glaring down at my bike, I lift it upright. “This fucker's going to embarrass me on Friday. In front of our favorite band. There's gonna be cameras and everything, and I'm gonna eat shit for all to see.”
“Hey.” Taylor hops onto the seat, bouncing his ass. “You built this thing right after high school. Give her some slack. She's got old bones.”
“Thanks, asshole. I feel so much better.”
He just laughs. “At least yours is newer than mine. This one's been through a lot with me. Remember the scholarship race senior year of high school?”
I pull up my sleeve and inspect my raw arm with a frown. “The one we both lost because we crashed?”
Fuck, these cuts hurt like a bitch. It’ll be fun to scrub the gravel out of them later.
“Yeah…” Tay trails off as he chews his bottom lip. “There's actually something about that race I never told you.”
My head snaps up. “What? Why? What happened?”
“Sometimes it hurts to think about,” he shrugs, refusing to look me in the eye. A tight feeling tugs at my chest. “When Huck won that scholarship, he, uh… transferred it to me. The whole thing.”
“For real?”
“Yeah. I didn't know that when I… you know, outed him in front of our entire town, pretty much. And then he tried to…”
Trailing off again, Taylor slowly rubs his collarbone, the one he snapped trying to save Huckslee's life. I know it bothers him sometimes, though personally I think the ache is all in his head. Still, though, I reach out and touch his arm.
“You didn't know that was going to happen, carino. It's not your fault. He's forgiven you for that.” I must have told him this a thousand times already over the last several years. So has his therapist.
“I know. Still doesn't change what happened, though.”
“No,” I sigh, setting down my helmet to re-tie my loose hair. “It doesn't. Does this have anything to do with the shit you said you were going through over the summer?”
“I wanna ask Huck to marry me,” he blurts, wincing when my jaw drops to the ground.
“You're gonna what? When? What the shit!”
Blowing out a breath, Taylor lets his head fall back. His fingers fiddle with the clutch nervously. “I don't know. I just know that I want to ask really fucking badly. I’ve never liked the idea of being tied down before, but Logan almost dying last year really put things into perspective.”
I gape at him for a few moments as my brain tries to process his words. “Well, that's… good though, right? Why do you look so fucking sad?” Anger ignites in my blood when a thought occurs to me. “Unless you asked already and that motherfucker said no?”
“Jesus, chill,” he chuckles, finally smiling. “I haven't asked yet. But like… What if Huck had been on that bike with Devon instead? What if it were me? What if no one survived?”
My breath catches at the thought of him—and Devon for fuck's sake—being taken away from me. It was bad enough when it was Logan, but if it had been Taylor? My terror twin, my other half. Basically, my everything since kindergarten. I'd never survive it. As for Devon…
I swallow hard and drag a hand down my face to hide the guilt from the blowie he gave me this morning.
Fucker took a rideshare and didn't tell anyone where he was going.
Try as I might to push the worry out of my mind, I can't help the images in my head of him back in that dumpy motel room with a nose full of powder. It wouldn’t be my fault, obviously, because I can't control what Devon does, but… the worry is there.
Clearing my throat, I return my focus to the conversation. “Why haven't you asked yet? Huck to marry you, I mean.”
“I'm… I dunno. Waiting, I guess.”
“For what?”
Taylor's silent for a long moment. “Until I can forgive myself,” he finally says, dropping his gaze.
My damn heart lurches at that, causing me to inhale sharply. Without thinking, I yank my best friend into a tight hug. “You gotta stop doing that shit, motherfucker.”
He lets out a surprised grunt before melting into my arms. “Doing what?”
“Acting like you’re the villain all the time.” Pulling back slightly, I look him straight in the eyes. “You were a dumbass kid, same as me. Same as Huck. We all were. You made one mistake and you’ve been torturing yourself for fucking ever over it.”
He tries to look away, but I grab his cheeks between my fingers and squish them. “Hey. No. Look at me.”
He snorts through his fish lips, but holds my gaze with amusement.
“You think Huck’s sitting around keeping score? Making notes every time you fuck up? If he is, then he ain't the one.”
Shame and longing war with each other in Taylor's eyes. “Of course not. I just… I don’t want to carry this shit into a marriage. I don't wanna end up like my mom and dad.”
“You won't,” I say fiercely, no hesitation. There's no way my best friend could ever be like his piece of shit abusive father. I still wish I could resurrect that asshole and beat the fuck out of him myself.
“How do you know?”
All I can do is study the pained look on his face, unsure of how to answer.
How do you platonically tell someone that you’ve memorized their soul down to the last atom and molecule?
How do I tell him that even though he's flawed, he's the embodiment of every single good thing about my life thus far?
I can't. So instead, I settle on, “Because I know you, dumbass.”
He huffs a shaky laugh as he shoves me away. “Fuck off.”
“You’re not your dad,” I tell him firmly. “You’re not even in the same fucking species. You hear me?”
“God, okay. I hear you.”
“Good.”
His shoulders shake as he breathes out, finally releasing some of the tension he’s been holding. “I’m gonna do it,” he whispers. “I’m gonna ask him. Soon.”
A small twinge of jealousy pinches my chest and threatens the happiness I feel for him. I'm glad he found his person, despite it all. I'm honestly glad all of my friends did. Maybe Arya wasn't my… forever, or whatever, but I could have seen myself living life with her for a good long while.
And that's probably where our relationship failed. Instead of building us to last, I treated it like something temporary—treated her like something temporary. I don't blame her for leaving in the end.
Still fucked up of Dev to sleep with her, though. Motherfucker.
The thought of him makes my stomach hurt, so I just clap Taylor on the shoulder roughly. “We gonna get back to practice now so I don't fuck this up for us?”
My best friend straightens with a grin, the same one he's always worn since we were kids. “Yeah. Let's get it. You ready?”
“Always,” I answer, cracking my neck before picking up my helmet.
“That's not what you were saying earlier. You were all ‘boo hoo, I suck, I'm a giant fucking baby.’”
“I will punch you in the dick.”
Laughing, he swings off my two-stroke so I can take his place. “Okay, okay. But go easy on your bike. She's reliable and she holds a lot of memories.”
Yeah, and not all of them are good.
I pause with one leg over the seat, helmet already snug on my head.
Reliable. Fast, smooth, every part tuned to my weight. My style. I swear the engine coughs sometimes like my abuela when I start her up, but still, she rides.
A kernel of possibility blooms in my chest. Thumbing the throttle, I shift into gear and head back toward the ramp as an idea takes root. Yeah, Symbiotic isn't paying us a whole hell of a lot for this gig, but…
Maybe starting a new project is exactly what I need to occupy my mind. Something like building a new bike, from the frame up, piece by piece.
Something that can replace the bad memories with better ones. New ones.
Something reliable.