Chapter 1
CHAPTER ONE
Christian
Damp earth crunches beneath the wheels of my dirt bike as I roll into position.
My best friend, Taylor, lines up beside me with his helmet tilted my way. Even through the visor, I can see his easy grin.
“Same count,” he says, offering me a fistbump that's become second nature to us. “Don't fuck it up again.”
“Speak for yourself, carino.”
I hop onto the bike behind him, my hands gripping his jacket for balance.
Then he guns it.
The ramp barrels toward us, gravel spraying beneath the tires. My pulse syncs with the engine, every vibration familiar and comforting. I know Taylor's rhythm by heart—when he’s going to move, exactly how the bike will lift off, the number of breaths he takes.
As our bike hits the ramp, chilly October wind whips past me, adrenaline sharpening the world down to speed, distance, and timing.
Taylor rises first, shifting his weight back so that I can move forward. I plant a hand on his shoulder and vault, my body twisting mid-air once I clear him cleanly. For a brief moment, I’m floating above him, above the bike, above the entire dirt field behind my mother's house.
Until my ass hits the seat hard between Taylor's legs when I land in front of him.
He locks in behind me without hesitation, wrapping his arms around my waist tightly as I grab the handlebars. The ground rushes up fast, and I brace myself for impact, trusting the laws of physics to do their job.
One heartbeat, then two—
“Motherfucking shit!”
I land hard, suspension screaming. The bike skids but stays upright as our boots scrape mud. Somehow, I manage to wrestle the two-stroke into control before it throws us off completely.
“Good save, man,” Tay laughs, but it's not fucking good enough. I kill the engine and rip my helmet off.
January’s Monster Truck rally is coming up quick, and we’ve been practicing this stunt for months. Usually, we're more in sync than this. At least… we used to be.
“You hesitated on that flip,” he says, not even out of breath. “What's going on?”
Scoffing, I wipe the sweat off my forehead. “I nailed that shit.”
“You corrected it,” he counters. “Big difference.”
Fuck, he knows me too well.
Heat crawls up my neck. “I’m fine,” I lie, glancing toward his ugly yellow truck parked at the edge of the field. The cab's still filled with boxes that we didn't unload earlier when I'd helped him move. He and his boyfriend, Huckslee, are taking over Matty and Xed’s old townhouse.
Taylor follows my gaze, and his expression softens. “Christian,” he starts, but I shake my head quickly.
“Why you gotta leave me like this, fool? We’re a team. Hermanos para siempre, remember?”
He exhales slowly, like I’m being dramatic, before digging out a pack of smokes from his motocross jacket. “It’s not like I’m moving to the other side of the country, man. Chill. I’ll literally be ten minutes away from the apartment.”
Ten minutes too far.
“Yeah, but…” My throat tightens. “Who’s gonna make me coffee in the morning? Or eat all my cereal?”
Who’s gonna be there when I come home at night?
“Logan?”
“He doesn't even like coffee, motherfucker.” I grimace at the thought of our roommate’s unhealthy obsession with energy drinks.
“Get a girlfriend, maybe?” Taylor shakes out a cigarette, looking amused.
“Already told you, I’m done with the dating scene. One-time hookups only.”
The corner of my best friend’s mouth quirks up. “Have them make your coffee, then.”
He nudges me aside so that he can roll his bike toward his truck, and I follow, because what else am I supposed to do? Chain him to my mother's back porch?
“I don’t want them making my coffee. I want you.” Jesus, that sounds gay as shit. “You can’t break up with me, carino.”
Tay flicks his lighter after leaning his bike against the truck bed. “Christian, buddy. My guy. We’re not breaking up. We’re just… growing up.”
Yeah, and I fucking hate it.
I also hate the fact that he didn't tell me until last week that he was moving out. According to Logan, he’s been thinking about it for over a year. What kind of bullshit is that?
“You should have told me sooner,” I mutter, plucking the cigarette from his lips before placing it between mine.
For a long moment, neither of us speaks as we pass the smoke back and forth.
It feels like the last one we'll ever share, and my heart is doing all kinds of weird shit.
I've been sharing everything with this asshole since we were kids.
Lunches, beds—women. But now that he has Huck, he's leaving me behind.
“I didn't tell you,” he starts slowly, “because I wasn't sure if I'd even do it. Not until Matty's parents asked if we could fix up the place before they sell it. Now that Huck’s a free agent, it's perfect for us until we decide what to do with our lives. Come on, Christian.”
“Don’t ‘come on’ me, fucker. You had months.” Dragging a hand down my chin, I pace in front of him. “You think I’d spring this kinda shit on you?”
Tay opens his mouth, then closes it again. Guilt flashes in his turquoise eyes. “No, you wouldn't.”
“Fuckin’ right.”
“But dude, listen.” He grabs my arm, halting my steps. “Look… I'm scared shitless, okay? I've never done this before.”
“Done what?”
“Like… lived with someone, man. Romantically. I've only ever lived with you.”
Those words hit me like a kick in the nuts.
I study my best friend, still seeing the kid from the trailer park who always dragged me into trouble. We were just two dumb teenagers crashing our dirt bikes and talking about everything until the sun came up.
He’s still the same Taylor standing here in his Doc Martens and dirty moto jacket, at least to me. Maybe we aren't like, together or some shit, but I guess I…
Well, I always considered him my platonic life partner.
And I don’t know how to exist in a world where he doesn't come home at the end of the day.
Clearing my throat, I take back the half-smoked cig and inhale deeply. “Yeah, well. Hope Huck can handle your fucking cereal addiction. Swear you're keeping Lucky Charms in business.”
He just scoffs as he loads up his bike. “You gonna be okay without me? Or should I walk you through how to use a microwave?”
“Eat shit.”
Taylor laughs, and I help him secure the two-stroke into place silently.
When he climbs into the truck and starts the engine, it vibrates uncomfortably in my chest. He stares straight ahead for a few seconds, letting the truck idle while he worries his bottom lip.
“We're gonna be okay, right?” he asks finally, not looking at me.
I force myself to smile. “Of course we are, carino.”
Tay glances over then, searching my face intently. “You’d tell me if we weren’t?”
“Duh, fool. You know I would.”
Liar, liar, fucking pants on fire.
“Okay.” He nods slowly, seeming more at ease. “Ten minutes away. Remember that.”
“Yeah,” I manage. “Ten minutes.”
“Birthday dinner on Sunday. Don’t forget.” With one last grin, my best friend puts the truck into gear and waves goodbye as he backs out onto the street. Leaving me alone in the cold, surrounded by dirt and the smell of engine oil.
I stand there with my hands in my pockets, long after his brake lights fade around the corner.
My mom's porch light flickers on behind me, signaling nightfall, and I look up at the purple sky with a heavy sigh. Now what the fuck am I supposed to do when I get back to the city? Eat a whole jar of pickles and jerk off again?
Shit, I've gotten boring.
Muttering to myself, I load my bike into my orange Bronco. For the first time in what feels like forever, the thought of heading to the apartment after a long day of riding settles into my gut like sour milk.
My person won't be there when I get home, and I don't know how to deal with it.