Chapter 21
Tristen
The pounding in my head rejects the bass to the song playing over the shitty diner speakers and as soon as the plate is placed in front of me, I two hand the filled tortilla.
Once the first bite hits my tongue, my stomach growls its frustration, and the realization that none of us has really eaten much in the last several days hits me.
The mouthful goes down like a rock as I tear off another and glance at Emmett.
My heart soars when I find him chewing, honey eyes lined with bags dancing between the ceramic in front of him to Hatley.
They both look fucking exhausted.
Weighted.
Pale and beaten down.
“Hey.”
Hat looks at me with brows lifted and Emmett peeks at me through his lashes.
Why do I like that?
“Let’s go to the track.”
My best friend’s sight darts to his right where Emmett sits then back to me with a growing grin.
“I’m so in.”
“But …” Emmett chews on his bottom lip, dragging my attention to the motion. “What am I gonna do?”
The corner of my lips tip.
“You can ride with me.”
Why do I like that idea even more?
His eyes go wide, and I’d swear there’s a hint of blush on his cheeks when he stares back down at his plate, but I don’t get time to appreciate it as much as I’d like when the waitress strolls up.
Then slides into the booth next to me, her shoulder bumping mine.
“Could you taste the arsenic this time, babes?”
Emmett’s mouth drops open, and the fresh bite falls out onto his plate as Hatley snorts.
“Don’t scare the poor guy, Blu.”
She tosses auburn strands over her shoulder with a wicked grin, lined green eyes swinging on me. “You knew I’d be working, baby. Don’t play coy.”
“Well, duh,” Hat murmurs around his burrito. “You’re the only one that’ll feed us for free.”
She snorts and runs her acrylic nails over the back of my hand that’s resting on the tabletop. “The least you could do is introduce me to your friend.”
I roll my eyes for her to see but swallow hard when Emmett shrinks back into his seat, food forgotten, hair hiding his eyes.
Shit.
“Em,” I say quietly, waiting for a glimpse of those sweet irises before I continue. “This is Blu. My ex.”
His shoulders come up even higher when she reaches across the table to shake his hand.
“I’m also a transwoman. A college graduate. An apparent giver of blue balls. But sure, I’ll accept the label of ex.”
“He doesn’t do touch,” Hat injects when she’s left hanging.
Shrugging, Blu drops back to our side of the table and shoots me a glare. “Not that I’d consider three dates an ex.”
I snicker and bump her shoulder.
“It’s not my fault you said we’d be better friends.”
“But look at us.” She gestures at the table, painted lips tipping up. “Planning to go to the track and shit when I get off. How sweet.”
A laugh bubbles up. “Do you wanna go to the track with us, Blu?”
She rolls her eyes when someone from the back yells after her and pushes to her feet.
“I’ll never say no to sexy, sweaty moto boys.” She leans down and smacks a kiss to the side of my head. “Wait for me.”
I shake my head when she saunters off and Hatley watches her go.
“Am I bi?” he asks out of nowhere and I laugh. “What’s my name? Where am I?”
“C’mon, bro.” I push to my feet. “Let’s go be sweaty moto boys.” My sight drops to where Emmett sits so still that I’d swear he’s not even breathing. “You in, bub?”
He startles like I scared him, like maybe he wasn’t expecting to be spoken to, and blinks those honey eyes at me.
“Uhhmm. O-okay?”
I tip my chin with a smirk and offer him a hand.
Emmett stares at my outstretched palm, confusion making his brows meet like me offering to help him up doesn’t compute.
Fuck, it doesn’t to me, either. But here we are.
Just as I’m about to pull it back, drop it to my side like there’s no skin off my back, he surprises the shit out of me.
And takes it.
Soft fingers dance over mine, light and thin, and send tiny static shocks over my skin clear up to my neck. It’s so intense it almost makes me jerk back. I don’t. Instead, I grab on as he wiggles his way out of the booth and stands, his chest nearly brushing mine with how close I am.
Oh, right. Step back, asshole.
Giving him enough space without letting go, I reach around him and offer my other hand to Hat so I can stop making this weird.
My best friend’s lips smack as he slaps my hand away.
“Don’t go reaching for me now. You’ve had fifteen years.”
A chuckle scrapes past the dryness taking over my throat. “You’re just mad you weren’t my first love.”
He snorts and climbs out beside Emmett, his complexion just a little bit livelier than it was when we got here.
“Sure. Keep lying to yourself, bro.”
I shrug, lean down to steal the last bite from Emmett’s plate, and spin him toward the exit. The move has his arm crossing his chest, mine draping across the back of his neck, and when he doesn’t protest, I let the full weight settle across his shoulders with each of our matched steps.
He’s hot—temperature-wise—against my side, waves of heat radiating through both his hoodie and my leather, and it does something to my stomach to feel it.
He’s like a little heater and it’s so much better than what he felt like on that bathroom floor.
Cold. He was so cold.
The small smile tipping up my lips fades when Emmett attempts to pry his fingers from between mine.
When did they even intertwine?
I hold on tighter. It’s instinct that furrows my brow and keeps his grip trapped in mine when he pulls again.
I don’t want it to end.
“They’re staring,” he whispers thickly.
My jaw jumps with a tick. My gaze sweeps the diner.
Hatley’s already at the door, holding it open for another customer and waiting for us. But when I look just behind him, I see the sneer on some old woman’s face. The look of disgust tainting her dull eyes. The condescending shake of her head with each step that Em and I draw closer.
“Sickening youths,” she mutters. “God would be ashamed.”
A bitter laugh barks out of me and Emmett startles.
“You’re just jealous my boyfriend’s cuter than you, ma’am.”
She sputters more nonsense, her jaw slackened when I tug him in so close that there’s no space left between us and plant a kiss right to his temple.
“Have a blessed day,” I snarl through a grin as we pass, raising my middle finger on the hand that Emmett’s now clinging to. It feels like the perfect fuck you to show his hand in mine.
Hatley’s wide gaze lands on mine as he ushers us out the door, his burst of laughter following close behind.
It’s contagious and when my boots hit the parking lot, I spin Emmett back around so that he’s untangled from me. Grip his hand in mine. Take one look into his sweet, smiling eyes, and run for the truck.
He barely keeps up, his feet stumbling as I pull him along, but when I hear the sound of tinkling laughter following me, I don’t stop.
Even as we pass the truck and his laugh gets louder, I keep tugging him along.
Please don’t let it stop.
Circling a few cars down, the thunder of Hat’s steps close behind, his shouts fill the air. Something about hey, jackass, we’re right here and where the fuck are you going.
But he’s laughing and so is Emmett and my chest feels like it might burst.
My grin so wide, my lip literally splits open.
The taste of copper doesn’t even faze me as I swing Emmett in front of me, his lithe body spinning, his back slamming into the cab of our truck.
He’s breathless when my hands hit the metal on either side of him, stopping my momentum and boxing him in.
He’s smiling at me, small and crooked, as I jack open the truck.
I pause.
It’s just a moment. Just a breath of time where his panting rushes over my face.
A split second where my sight drops to his lips.
“You’re bleeding,” he whispers.
My smile grows, a wave of adrenaline taking over my chest just like it does when I race, and I’m overtaken by need.
The need to keep that smile on his face.
To kiss it and see if that would make it wider.
Instead, I flick my sight back to his.
“Go.”
His honey eyes widen a fraction before he clamors into the cab, my hands all but shoving him in with a laugh as I land on the seat beside him.
The truck roars to life and Emmett slides closer, jolting when the other door slams closed.
He’s so close that I have to reach between his knees to shift into first gear and it’s not until I bump his leg that he scoots all the way back. It’s not much distance but it’s enough that I don’t feel him when I get us out onto the street and shift to second.
“Drive faster, old man!”
“Holy shit,” I mutter, and glance passed Emmett to a squished Blu crammed into the passenger side door, Hatley’s body practically on top of hers. “Where did you come from?”
Laughter fills the cab and my chest, and I press harder on the pedal.
It’s not lost on me that there’s space between Hat and Emmett. That my best friend is respecting the lack of touch as best as he can with the four of us crammed into the cab.
And that Emmett chose to touch me, instead.