26. Chapter 26
Cody
We hit a pothole, and the jolt shoots straight through my spine and into both testicles. “My balls! Fuck my balls!”
Atlas shakes in my arms. The asshole is laughing. He pushes his visor up a bit, then pats my thigh twice. “Told you to lift off the seat.”
“You said that once . While you were putting on your helmet. That is not adequate instruction.”
He pats my thigh again. “Shh. Good backpacks don't complain.”
“I'm not a fucking backpack.”
“You're right. Backpacks don't whine this much.”
I'm going to murder him once we park. Beat him with my helmet, then leave his body in a pothole for the next rider to find.
The road finally smooths out, and I loosen my grip just enough to feel my fingers again. How the hell do they find this fun?
Okay, holding onto Atlas? Not terrible.
The potholes can still go straight to hell, though. And if we were racing in cars, at least I wouldn’t have to worry about getting launched onto the pavement.
From now on, I’ll be taking my own car whenever we go out. They can join if they want. But I’m not getting on the back of this death trap again.
Atlas covers my hand with his, and I can’t help smiling as my heartbeat finally starts to settle.
I’ve been worried about him for the past couple of days. The way he shook when I touched his scar. The tiny sob that slipped out before he finally fell asleep in my arms. I hadn’t meant to cause that.
Maybe one day he’ll tell me what happened. Until then, I’ll just hold on when he needs me to.
Hunter blows past us on the left, getting smaller the farther ahead he gets. And for about three seconds, I think Atlas is going to let him go. Then the engine drops into a lower gear and my stomach lurches as the bike surges forward.
“You fucking asshole!” I slap the tank of the bike. “Slow the fuck down!”
He doesn't.
If anything, the engine screams louder as Atlas takes the next curve, leaning so far that my knee almost grazes the asphalt. My arms lock tighter around his waist, and I squeeze my eyes shut because if I'm going to die tonight, at least I won't see it coming.
We hit another pothole.
“God-fucking-dammit!”
The wind keeps wrenching my neck every time I lift my head wrong, and the next shift sends my helmet thunking against Atlas’s.
If I survive this, I’m never letting either of them pick transportation again.
The bike finally slows down, and I open my eyes. We pull off the exit, head down the main street, and turn into the parking lot for the Bayville Scream Park, which is already packed. Every person on the island must be here tonight.
Atlas pulls into an empty spot, cuts the engine, then flips up his visor. “You good back there, Little J?”
“No.”
He dismounts, takes off his helmet, then holds out his hand. “Need help?”
“With what? Walking? Sitting? Reattaching my balls?”
“All of the above. I’m versatile.”
“I’m going to kill you.” I swing off the bike, and my legs wobble, every step sending a dull throb through my groin.
He chuckles and crooks two fingers. “Give me your helmet.”
“Say please?”
“Yeah no. Whatever daddy wants, daddy gets.”
I pull it off, then shove it into his chest, mumbling under my breath. “God, I need to find a better boyfriend.”
Hunter grunts, the muscle in his jaw ticcing once.
I rake my fingers through my hair, trying to fix the helmet damage. “What?”
Atlas rubs the back of his neck. “I’m your boyfriend?”
Shit. Fuck.
My mouth opens, then closes as I blink rapidly. “Did I say that out loud?”
“Yup.”
I groan and scrub my hands over my face. Maybe I can order an Uber. Go home and hang out with Blue instead of being stuck here for the rest of the night.
Atlas grins, throws an arm over my shoulder, then snaps a picture of us. His grin only grows as he taps away at the screen.
My brows furrow. “What are you doing?”
“Just sent a picture of my boyfriend to the family group chat.”
“Are you out of your mind?”
He tucks the phone into his back pocket, then puts his baseball cap on backward. “They are going to lose their shit.”
I swallow, biting my bottom lip. His family. He just sent a picture of me to his family. And I haven't even told mine about any of this.
“Let's go.” Hunter walks past us, phone in the other hand. He doesn't stop. Doesn't look back.
Why does he seem pissed?
Atlas and I follow him, but Hunter doesn’t slow down like he normally does. He’s not far ahead, maybe fifteen feet, and his head turns every few seconds in either direction.
“Is he okay?”
Atlas shrugs. “He gets this way in crowds sometimes.”
That’s not what I asked. But I let it go.
Hunter pulls out his phone, and the guy at the gate scans the QR code for our tickets.
The place is packed. Fog machines pump haze across the walkways, strobe lights flash between buildings, and scare actors lunge from dark corners at screaming groups. The bass from the speakers rattles through the ground, and a group of girls in matching hoodies runs past us, shrieking.
Atlas grabs my arm. “Axe throwing. Now. I need to destroy you at something.”
“You don't destroy me at anything.”
He waggles his brows. “Bet your ass would disagree.”
Hunter snorts.
I scoff. “Yeah, and your nipples would agree with anything I tell them to.”
Atlas's hand flies to his chest. “That was one time. And you took advantage of a vulnerable moment.”
“You were balls deep inside me. That's not vulnerable.”
Hunter's mouth twitches, fingers flexing at his sides.
My eyes narrow. “Got something to say? Because I can’t tell what you fuck harder, your fist or my ass.”
He doesn’t even look at me as he grabs the back of my neck. “Sounds like you’re jealous.”
I huff and roll my eyes.
We've barely seen each other this week. The only action I've had was a FaceTime where Atlas made us all jerk off together. Which was hot. But watching Hunter fuck his fist through a phone screen, when I know what it feels like in person, is a special kind of torture.
“Oh, good, we're doing the angry flirting thing. Love that for us.” Atlas ruffles my hair. “Now be a good boy and let daddy show you a good time tonight.”
I shove his hand away. “If anyone's daddy, it's Hunter.”
It comes out loud. Way too loud.
Atlas's mouth drops open and Hunter's hand on my neck falls away. Atlas turns to Hunter, back to me, back to Hunter. “Did he just—”
“Shut up.”
“Little J, you just called Hunter daddy in front of—”
“I said shut up!”
Hunter says nothing. His jaw ticks once, a flicker of something—maybe desire—in his eyes.
A scare actor in a bloody apron wearing face paint walks past. He looks Hunter up and down, then winks. “Damn. He could be my daddy.”
I step into the fuckhead’s space, heat crawling up my neck. “Back the fuck up. He's not yours to look at.”
The actor drags a gloved finger down the front of my jacket. “Don't be jealous, pretty boy. There's enough scary to go around.”
Atlas's hand clamps around the guy's wrist. The grin on his face morphs into something that makes the hair on my arms stand up. “Touch him again, and we're going to have a problem that your costume can't fix.”
The scare actor huffs. “Relax. I was just messing around.”
Hunter places a hand on the guy’s shoulder, squeezing hard enough that the actor winces. “Move along and don’t look in our direction again, or I'll take your fucking eyes.”
“Yeah, sure. Whatever, man.” The guy rubs his shoulder when Hunter lets go, then he walks away.
I gape at them both. “What the fuck was that?”
Hunter looks at me. “He touched you.”
“Are you serious? You can’t just—”
They both turn and make their way to Zeke’s Zombie Axe throwing.
“Hey, don’t walk away from me.” I shove my hands into the pockets of my jacket and follow them while they ignore me. “You two can’t do that shit.”
Hunter grunts.
“We can, and we will, Little J,” Atlas says.
I huff and roll my eyes. “Possessive assholes.”
“Yeah, and what was that shit you pulled?” Hunter pauses, vein in his neck visibly pulsing, before he stalks away again.
Fuck. Point taken.
We approach the staff member, and Hunter shows her our tickets. After a quick safety rundown, she hands us our axe, and we make our way into an open lane.
Atlas gets into his stance, then winks at me. “Ready to lose.”
“Keep dreaming. I’m going to kick your ass.”
He throws, and his axe thuds into the second ring. “Ha! Beat that.”
“That's not even close to the center.”
I look over at Hunter, but he’s checking his phone, lips pressed tight. So, I step up to the line, roll my shoulders, then throw. My axe hits the outer ring. “Shit.”
“Your aim is almost as sad as the Titans' record lately.”
“Fuck off. We're down two of our top guys and you know it.”
“Yeah, speaking of, that video you sent me of Petrov going after Knight . . .” Atlas whistles and shakes his head. “Petrov just broke the man's finger and walked off like it was nothing. Thought they were buddies.”
“So did I.” I grab another axe. “I still don't know what Knight did. Nobody's asking either. Walsh is out with a concussion too, but at least Henneman's back.”
Atlas nudges me gently. “And you’re ahead of Isaksen in points.”
My cheeks heat, heart beating a little faster. “You’ve been checking my stats?”
He grins. “Maybe.”
Thunk.
Atlas and I both look at Hunter, then the target.
Bullseye.
Holy shit.
Hunter throws again. Same spot. “Looks like both of you are going to lose.”
My teeth sink into my bottom lip. Fuck, that’s hot.
“You look like you're about to bust in your pants, Little J.”
I whirl around and punch Atlas in the shoulder. “Do you even know how to be quiet?”
“Nope.” He throws another axe, this time hitting the third ring.
I smirk. “Sucks for you.”
Atlas quirks a brow, crossing his arms. My next throw completely misses the target, and he laughs. Of course, Hunter hits the bullseye again.
Fucking showoff.