Chapter 24
Chapter twenty-four
Next Race, San Diego
Bryce's mechanic jumped on the back of his bike and rode with him over to the press area. His heart pounded a rhythm almost hard enough to play with the hard rocking bands he liked to listen to.
Second. He'd finished second in the Main Event in his second race.
The mechanic took his bike from him when he got on the podium.
His goggles hung backward around his neck and someone handed him an energy drink.
Someone else put a hat on him before he could even see what it was.
Bryce pushed the brim to the back just as the network shoved a bulky headset over his head.
The rest happened in a blur. Thanking his sponsors, talking about the race, thanking the network.
Taking a long drink from the aluminum can.
Smiling brightly...he pretended that he was Davey McAllister, so the butterflies would stop.
He thought he had it under control, until he looked out into the crowd.
Tate Jordan stood there with his arms crossed and a smirk on his face.
Bryce couldn't help himself. He yanked off the headset, shoving it at the nearest camera guy and raced over to Tate.
“Did you watch? Did you see me race?” Despite being epically tired, Bryce had a megawatt of energy still thrumming through his veins.
“Yeah, yeah. I saw, wonder-boy.” Tate pushed the hat off his head. “Hey, this is my boyfriend, Pilot.”
"Hi, again. We’ve met," Bryce said, still bouncing on the balls of his feet.
He raked his eyes over Tate's super-hot boyfriend. He was built like a professional wrestler, tall with bulky muscles; his thighs threatened to burst out of his jeans. He could have been a marine with his hair buzz cut and his dark expressive eyes, taking everything in around them with just a glance. He glowered at the world like he’d burn it all down in a second.
Bryce swallowed down the slight fear the big man instilled.
Although he definitely intimidated Bryce, he knew that if Tate approved, he had to be a good guy.
When he stuck out his hand, Bryce shook it without hesitation, and delighted in the electrical zing he got from Pilot's touch, even through his racing gloves.
He couldn't help wonder what it would feel like to have the man's hands on him—bare skin to bare skin, touching every part of him.
Bryce shivered and let go, catching a glimpse of a tattoo on Pilot's bicep.
He wondered what it was, wanted to see more.
“Look, Bryce. We have to go get ready for 450s, but we're going to hang out with the Apex crew after the main event. Wanna come with?” Tate’s invitation seemed sincere.
Bryce nodded quickly. To hell with his parents. He was not going to miss out on this. Not again. Tate wanted him around and he wanted to go. “Hell yeah, for sure. When and where?”
Pilot leaned closer and put his hand on Bryce's shoulder. “Just come by the Apex pit after the Main Event. We'll eventually get there.”
Maybe Pilot wanted him there, too. It surprised Bryce.
He would have thought the man would be jealous, but maybe he didn't know about him and Tate kissing.
Maybe Tate hadn't told him anything. Or maybe he had, because they were really just friends, no matter how much Bryce wanted to pretend they had been more, or how much more Bryce wanted from him. Whatever Tate said or didn’t say, Pilot had been surprisingly cool about it all—so far.
Davey McAllister won the race and Tate came in second with Chad Regal nipping at his rear tire for third.
The results were exciting but not surprising.
Bryce suspected the three of them would be duking it out every week for the rest of the season.
They were the top three racers in the 450 class and unless one of them had a super bad week, they would continue to challenge each other.
Bryce knew all three of them hated to lose. Hell, he hated to lose.
After the race, he made his way to the Apex pit area.
His parents weren't happy with him, but he’d stood his ground.
They physically slumped just before he turned and walked out on them.
He stuffed the guilt down, though. Yes, he owed them more than the average son, but he didn't owe them his life. He was eighteen and he’d just had two major victories back to back and he wanted to celebrate.
No, he deserved to celebrate—with his new friends.
McAllister, his mechanic-husband, and their two body guards, one of which was Tate's boyfriend Pilot, arrived in the pit area on a storm of chaos.
Bryce moved to the back, out of the way.
Another mechanic took the bike from them.
He had dark hair and olive skin and an infectious laugh.
They called him Mickey and Bryce made a mental note of the name.
He wanted to get to know these guys, after all.
When most of the people and press left the area, Pilot came over and said hello. “Tate will be here in a few minutes. You know how it is.”
Bryce did know how it went after a race. Tate would have to talk with his mechanic, his manager, his trainer, maybe even more press, before he'd be able to get away. All of that went on around him with Davey and his husband as well. “I know.”
“He'll probably change too,” Pilot said. He crossed his arms over his chest and leaned back against the huge eighteen wheeler truck, giving Bryce another opportunity to look him over.
It seemed to him that Tate had won the jackpot of boyfriends. Even though Pilot’s build rocked that sexy military look, he also obviously cared about Tate. He was sexy, capable, and still really nice.
Davey's husband and the mechanic, Mickey, took care of the bike.
Bryce couldn't remember what his husband’s name was, but he was fine as hell, too.
He had serious muscles but not as big as Pilot's, and an adorable face.
His sexy dirty-blond hair looked like he'd just got out of bed as he ran his hands through it.
Bryce remembered the scandal when the picture of the couple had been released to the media.
They had gotten some hate comments, but the majority of people seemed to be okay with it.
Bryce had stared at the picture for a long time when he had first seen it, hoping it might change something in his own life. Maybe it had.
Eventually, Tate showed up and hugged everyone.
“Tyler!” he squealed when he hugged Davey's husband, finally giving Bryce his name.
Then, he hugged Davey and Mickey and finally Pilot, who leaned down and gave him a kiss as well.
Then, he fist bumped Bryce and for a second, Bryce thought he'd be left out of the hug-fest and his heart fell into his gut.
But then Tate grabbed his wrist and yanked Bryce into his chest and his arms circled around him.
His hug more closely resembled the hug he'd given Pilot than the ones he bestowed on everyone else.
He held it just a little longer, his arms wrapped just a little tighter, and when he released him, Tate's hands slid across his arms. His heart leapt back into his chest and danced across his ribs like pounding through a woops section. “Bryce.”
“Hey, um, Tate. Uh, hi.” Bryce swallowed hard, sure everyone would see his overwhelming attraction to Tate. If they did, they didn’t say anything about it, even Pilot kept quiet, acting like it hadn’t happened.
After everyone was reacquainted and Davey had changed into jeans and a clean jersey, they all headed out.
Bryce squeezed into the backseat of a cab with Tate and Pilot, his body humming with desire that he had to just squish.
Davey, Tyler, and Mickey climbed into a second cab, and they left the arena.
They went to a family style bar, so he could actually get in.
He was the only one in the group under twenty-one.
It made him feel bad at first, but then he realized that none of the others even ordered anything alcoholic, just coke, water and food.
They'd be getting wings, potato skins, chips and spinach dip, and southwestern egg rolls to share.
Tate and Pilot made him feel welcome, but Tyler and Mickey made him feel like a part of the gang.
They laughed and teased him right along with the others.
Mickey had a quick wit and a sharp tongue.
He was also sexy as hell. They all were, but Bryce's gaze lingered over Tate and Pilot the most. There was an odd tension between them that he didn't understand.
He chose to ignore it and have fun with his friends.
Davey and Tyler had been talking about superheroes until Davey slapped his hand on the table, getting everyone's attention. “I'll prove it, Ty,” he said, looking around the table. “Bryce, if you could be a superhero, who would you be. Don't think just answer.”
“Uh, Superman, or no...Green Lantern,” he blurted out, happy to have been picked first.
“Right. Pilot?”
Pilot grumbled a bit before answering, “The Hulk.”
Tyler complained, “That's not a superhero.”
Mickey said, “Yes, he is. He's in the Avengers.”
Tyler rolled his eyes, then Davey nodded at Tate.
“Uh... probably the Silver Surfer. He's rad,” Tate said in a fake valley boy accent.
“Batman,” Mickey chimed in before being asked, and then scooped some dip on a chip and stuffed it in his mouth.
“See? All the racers here picked superheroes that fly.”
“The hulk flies,” Tyler grumbled and Tate laughed.
“No. He jumps. That's different.”
“So, Pilot's jumpy?” Tyler asked.
“That's not the point,” Davey argued.
A wicked smile crept over Tyler's face. “Batman flies.”
Davey groaned. “Not without help. He doesn't even have super powers. Just gadgets.”
“He's still cool,” Mickey complained. “That’s why I like him. I’m a mechanic.” He held up a hand, as if that explained everything.
Davey leaned back in the booth and stretched his arm along the seat back. “Also, not the point.”
Bryce was enjoying their interaction, but also wasn't sure what Davey's point was, so he asked.
Davey leaned forward. “That we race because we want to fly.”
Tyler laughed. “No. I think it means that you connect with flying more than the rest of us mere mortals and that's part of why you race Supercross and we don't, even though we also love riding.”
Pilot grumbled again.
“What?” Tyler asked.
“I don't ride.”
Everyone, even Mickey and Tyler, stared at him.
Tate chuckled, low in his chest. “Oh, that's it. Next week, you are coming with me to the track. You are so getting on a bike.”
“I prefer cars.”
“Nope. Sexy car or not, you're getting on a bike,” Tate said and that was that.
Bryce’s chest felt warm inside. He’d never imagined ever being included in a group like this.