Chapter 11
Chapter
Eleven
Salem - Present
“I have an idea.”
Two sets of eyes blink groggily at me the next morning. Taylor and Christian groan, hardly awake, with a single bowl of Lucky Charms between them. They were fighting over the last of the box, so I made them share.
“Ideas are for after the sun rises,” Tay grumbles, purple-streaked hair a mess. He gazes into the bowl forlornly before glaring at his best friend. “I swear you're stealing the marshmallows on purpose.”
Christian grins, smacking his lips obnoxiously as he chews. “Left you all the rainbows because… you know.”
“I like dick?”
“Yeah.”
Huckslee snorts from where he's making a protein shake at the counter. I ignore all three and steer the conversation back on track. “As I was saying, I've got a really cool stunt idea if you both would listen.”
Taylor groans, dropping his head into his arms. “Salem, please, I can't do this anymore. It's too early to function.”
“Quit your bitching. We need to practice for our next show.”
I swear Taylor lets out a sob. Christian sighs heavily, shoveling another spoonful of cereal into his mouth. “Tay’s right, chica. We're fucking exhausted. You've been getting us up at the asscrack of dawn for over a week.”
Pressing my palms to the table, I lean in excitedly. “Trust me, this one’s worth losing sleep over.”
“You said that about the fire rings last summer and Tay almost lost an eyebrow.”
“I lost half an eyebrow,” Taylor corrects, voice muffled by his arm.
Huckslee slams the blender down with more force than necessary, turning to glare at his boyfriend. “Fire rings? You didn’t tell me about fire rings!”
Tay glances at him sheepishly. “It wasn’t a big deal?”
“Not a big deal?” Huck’s voice rises several octaves.
“First off, it grew back. Second, it was her idea!”
Taylor points a finger in my direction, and I make a show of rolling my eyes.
“Okay, yes, in hindsight, fire was a bad idea. We're not there yet, but this is different. I’ve been thinking about something we can do to generate some views online and it came to me last night.” While I was trying not to think about Logan’s body next to mine, about how much I wanted to wake him up by climbing on top of his face.
“What do you guys think about a tandem flip? Two men, one bike.”
Everyone freezes.
Huckslee is the first to recover, protein shake forgotten as he rotates slowly to face me. “You want them both on one bike? Doing a backflip?”
Taylor lifts his head, expression caught somewhere between horror and astonishment. “That sounds fucking insane.”
“Absolutely not,” his boyfriend argues. He turns to Logan, who's been quietly sipping an energy drink in the corner. “You're seriously okay with this?”
Logan’s bloodshot gaze flicks over to me, but he stays silent, so I continue. “Exactly! Think about how cool this would be. It would blow people’s minds.”
Christian lets out a low whistle, rubbing his jaw as he squints like he's doing calculations in his head. “I mean… it could work. We could do it.”
Huck sucks his teeth before glaring at me. “You’re actually trying to kill them, aren't you?”
“Don't be dramatic. Imagine the crowd! The social media posts. They'd go viral.”
And I’m getting bored of capturing the same old stunts, if I’m being honest.
Taylor and Christian exchange some freaky, silent best-friend communication thing before Christian turns back to me with a gleam in his eye. “Alright, chica loca. Let’s try it.”
“You’re all nuts,” Logan cuts in, setting his drink down with a clank.
He's been… quiet ever since we got to Louisville yesterday. Almost cold and withdrawn.
I arch a brow at him, folding my arms indignantly. “What, no faith in their skill?”
He huffs out a dry laugh. “Oh, I’ve got faith… that they’ll either pull it off or end up in the ER.”
“Thank you,” Huckslee adds, gesturing toward his best friend. “Finally, another voice of reason.”
Logan shrugs, his expression softening a little from the steel mask he’s worn lately. “Honestly, though, if anyone can pull off something like that, it’s you two.”
Huck throws his hands up in defeat as Christian snorts, elbowing Taylor in the ribs. “Hear that, carino? We’re the shit.”
“Just don't die.” Logan grimaces. “I looked up our insurance last night. It doesn't cover death by dumbass.”
“No, it doesn't,” I agree, my chest tightening just a little at how easily he took my side. When our eyes meet, a grin quirks his lips, and I tear my gaze away. “They won't die, though. Break a limb, possibly. But they'll survive.”
Taylor laughs as he takes his empty bowl to the sink. “Wouldn’t be the first time.”
Huck scowls. “I see nothing remotely funny about this.”
“Don't worry, baby. I'm a certified badass, remember?”
“Doesn’t mean you're invincible.”
“Look at it this way. If I crash, you get to nurse me back to health. All of me.”
I chuckle, shaking my head at their banter, but my amusement fades the second I spot Arya slipping out of the RV bathroom—with Devon in tow. Her face is flushed, hair messy, and she won’t look at anyone as she tugs down the hem of her dress.
Devon, on the other hand, looks smug as shit.
He runs a hand down his wrinkled tank top and saunters over to Christian, plucking the coffee mug out of his hands.
A slow, heated smirk runs across Christian's face, but he doesn’t say anything.
Just pulls his giggling girlfriend onto his lap and immediately starts sucking her face.
I roll my eyes but when they land on Dev, his attention is on Logan.
The two share some kind of silent battle that ends with Devon saluting him before walking out of the RV to smoke.
Logan drops his gaze to the floor, suddenly pale, and I don't like how it makes me feel. He looks… unwell. I fucking hate it. I wish I could fix it, ask if he’s okay or needs to talk. If he needs me. But I don't.
I already know the answer. He made that clear when he left me in Vegas.
Instead, I clear my throat and clap loudly to break up the PDA. “Alright, love birds. Finish up. We’ve got work to do.”
Christian groans but reluctantly obeys, and Taylor mutters something about a “hostile work environment" when he pulls away from Huck’s arms.
But Logan still doesn't look up. Devon’s smoke curls through the open window like a ghost between us as tension settles heavily in the RV.
For the first time since planning everything, I’m not sure if this trip will bring us all closer as friends—or rip our little family apart.
Engines scream as Tay and Christian hit the ramps in perfect sync for our first show in Kentucky.
Cheers from the crowd erupt around me. Cameras and phones flash, including mine as I catch them mid-air, frozen against the sunset, dirt flying from their back tires like fireworks.
Christian lands first, smooth as hell, throwing a fist pump to the crowd before circling back toward the ramp. Taylor follows with a One-Handed Hart Attack that has people gasping, his legs completely vertical toward the sky. God, they make this look easy.
Looping around for another jump, the two launch off opposite ramps simultaneously, flipping through the air like they’re weightless. The entire stadium holds its breath until they land, tires hitting dirt with twin puffs of smoke.
The roar from the crowd rattles my bones, pride swelling in my chest. But when I lower the camera to check the shots, Arya catches my attention. She's standing near the edge of the barricade, laughing at something Devon’s saying. My stomach flips when she brushes her fingertips down his arm.
He smirks and runs a hand through his messy hair, attention glued to her cleavage. It's only when he tips her chin up for a kiss that I fucking lose it.
The show’s still going, but all I can hear is blood pulsing in my ears. I’m moving before I can stop myself, shoving through bystanders, my Vans crunching over dirt and discarded drink cups.
Arya’s still smiling when I grab her by the wrist and haul her away from Devon’s cocky grin.
“What the hell are you doing?” I hiss sharply after spinning to face her.
She blinks, startled. “Um, talking?”
“With him? Are you out of your fucking mind?”
Her blue eyes flash as she crosses her arms. “He’s hot. I’m not dead. Christian's cool with it. What’s the issue?”
“The issue,” I growl through clenched teeth, “is that Devon doesn’t care about anyone but himself. He’s an asshole, and oh, I don't know, my ex?”
“Ex situationship,” she corrects, putting a finger in the air. “You two were never serious.”
With a sigh, I rub my temples to ease the fast-approaching headache. “That’s not the point. Isn't there like… girl code or something?”
Arya gapes at me before bursting into a fit of laughter. “Girl code? Salem, you've fucked my boyfriend.”
“In high school,” I grumble, glaring at her.
“When you and Taylor were together, you begged me to fuck him while you watched.”
My lips twitch at the memory. “I was curious. Don't judge.”
“Not judging.” She smiles and wraps her arms around my neck. “Look, I'm pretty sure we violated girl code years ago. Our friendship is, um…”
“Fucked up?”
“I was going to say unique. Or unconventional.”
I scoff, sending Dev a death glare over her shoulder. He just smiles and waves. “Everything about our friend group is unconventional.”
“Which is why I love it.” Arya grins wide before smacking a big, wet kiss on my lips. “So don't be mad, 'kay?”
“You bitch.” I wipe off her gloss with a scowl. “I swear to God, if I get a cold sore from that prick, I'll be so pissed.”
She laughs again as she lets me go. “You won't. I'm being safe, I promise. And besides…” Trailing off, she tosses a glance at the boys still tearing it up in the stadium. “We haven’t fucked yet. Just kissed. Christian wants to share me.”
“Jesus, you two are horn dogs,” I mutter, earning a smirk in response.
“Was Dev good in bed? I heard a rumor that he's got a pierced dick.”
With a noncommittal shrug, I return to the show, lifting my camera to capture Taylor's twist into a flawless Nac-Nac. “Not a rumor. And he's okay, I guess.”
He let me peg him without feeling guilty afterwards, at least.
Unlike my ex who would constantly beg for it over the course of two years and then spiral out of control.
My eyes find Logan automatically where he sits at the end of the bleachers, his head bent over a laptop.
He's been busy all day doing who knows what.
When I glanced at his screen earlier, all I could see were spreadsheets.
It's almost like he's obsessing over this business manager shit.
Using it to occupy his mind… or escape from it. Either way, something is bothering him.
And I swiftly remind myself that it’s not my fucking problem. Caring about him is what got me into this mess in the first place.
A dirt bike revs loud enough to shake the ground, and I snap to attention, lifting the camera just in time to catch our final stunt—the two-person flip.
Taylor is in front, Christian gripping his shoulders from behind as they speed toward the ramp.
The crowd leaps to their feet, everyone holding their breaths. My heart lurches in into my throat.
The guys launch into the air, bodies twisting together, the bike flipping once, twice.
They land with a cloud of dirt, a deafening cheer drowning out their screams of pure joy.
I snap rapid-fire shots, my hands shaking from the adrenaline coursing through my veins, but my eyes drift back to Logan, even with all the chaos around me.
He's still on the edge of the bleachers, tapping away at his keyboard. His lips are pressed thin.
I know that look.
He’s not focused on work, he’s… disappearing into it.
I grit my teeth and lower the camera, tearing my gaze away.
It’s not my job to fix him. It's not. My mother tried fixing a man throughout my entire childhood and look where that got her.
Miserable. Angry. An addict, unable to function on her own.
I can still remember the sound of glass shattering against the kitchen wall; her voice slurred as she screamed at her husband for leaving again.
I sat under the table, clutching my knees to my chest and counting how many pills she took to decide what kind of night we were having.
She'd looked me right in the eye and said, "Why do you have to be so fucking difficult to him? Is it really so hard to see me happy and in love?"
Wiping my face, I told her that if this was love, I didn't want it.
She'd just laughed.
“You will. And I'm telling you right now that if you act like such a fucking bitch all the time, you'll only end up alone. Men don't want girls like you."
Good, I'd thought. Because maybe I don't want men like that.
I won't be like her. Logan made his bed, and now he can lie in it.
Caring only leads to disappointment. I’ve had enough of that to last a lifetime.
Logan Peterson is not my responsibility, and I refuse to let him be my downfall.