Chapter 6
Nathan Fucking Bellevue
Ten minutes later, Craig parked in the gravel lot behind the tracks.
The car races at the old speedway should be entertaining—they usually were.
The scent of gasoline and hotdogs from the concession stands saturated the air, and the sound of engines being pushed to their breaking point vibrated through the small stadium.
An enthusiastic crowd cheered and clapped as we took our seats.
The races hadn’t begun yet, and the drivers were just testing the tracks and their vehicles, but still, excitement was palpable in the air.
The drivers got into position. A horn resonated somewhere, but it sounded miles away.
Somehow, I didn’t wish to be here anymore.
Awareness took over my entire body. My senses were acute.
Even my breathing hastened, and I wasn’t even moving.
The problem with today’s races rested on the girl sitting right in front of me, capturing all my attention, no matter how hard I tried to ignore her.
She hadn’t talked to me since we arrived, mostly acting as if I didn’t fucking exist.
I had to forget about her. And fast.
Every smile she sent Paige, who sat next to her, each flick of her ponytail over her shoulders, or even the clap of her hands when she got excited watching the cars circling the dusty track, I missed nothing.
Not a single one of her movements. As if all of them were playing in slow motion.
A waft of her fruity shampoo hit my nose.
Her laughter spread through me like a caress.
Right now, I couldn’t care less about the action down on the speedway.
Every inch of my body was tensed, and I swallowed, trying to ease the discomfort invading me.
Since when did someone—a girl—bother me so much? And yet, her presence acted like a dagger straight through my heart because she couldn’t care less about my existence.
My clothes felt too tight on me. At one point, she cocked her head to ask Craig something, pointing at the tracks, her smile bright.
The sparkle in her eyes could probably be seen from space.
Melinda Shepard loved the competition. That was what made her so good at her sport on meet days.
I almost combusted when her eyes landed on me for a fraction of a second.
I was back to being that eleven-year-old boy with a crush on the girl next door.
She turned around, engrossed in the action before us. “Go. Yes. Like that.” She jumped to her feet, cheering and stamping, as dust rose up around the cars, hiding them from us, and only the high-pitched whine of the gearboxes could be heard. “Faster. Yes. Pass him on the right.”
She pumped her fist when the cars crossed the finish line. People screamed and clapped as the guy who finished first held his helmet over his head, grinning like an idiot. I had no idea who he was or if he was any good since I’d been too distracted the entire time he had circled the track.
Melinda spun around to talk to my brother but lost her balance, and her palm splayed on my thigh when she fell forward. My heart rate picked up, and my entire body sang as her hand lingered there for longer than needed.
I took a deep breath in, trying to relax.
In vain. Melinda Shepard was touching me.
Her hand was on me. I swallowed, not sure how to react without scaring her away.
Time idled as I steadied my breathing, trying to look unaffected.
For a long second, we fixated on each other.
The imprint of her palm burned my flesh through the fabric of my board shorts.
This time, the glint shining in her eyes looked nothing like the swords she usually threw at me.
I feared if I blinked, they would disappear.
As if an invisible string tied us together, we both leaned into each other.
The moment she realized her hand was still connected to my leg and we were about to collide, she removed it.
A puff of air left my lungs at the same time.
“Sorry,” she murmured, shaking her head like she was trying to escape whatever spell had taken us hostage.
I tried to speak, to say something, but I nodded like a fool instead. Smooth, Mase. Real smooth.
Chase, my best friend, sitting on my right, elbowed me in the ribs, breaking the weird trance I had fallen into. “Man, it’s Novak’s turn.” He pointed to the tracks. “He’s doing it. How sick is that?”
My attention returned to the starting line. Something loosened in my chest, and I breathed easier.
Indeed, Novak, a guy four years older than us who had survived leukemia back in high school, climbed behind the wheel of an old white sports car with the number thirty-nine painted in red on the side—his old football jersey number.
My friends and I all jumped up from our seats, and we applauded and wolf whistled.
The guy was a legend in Elk River. Years ago, the town had organized charitable events to aid him and his family through their ordeal.
From paying hospital bills and helping him with his doctor’s appointments to offering to drive him back and forth to his treatments in Traverse City and giving him moral support.
The energy buzzed in the outdated stadium.
The thirteen of us in our little section were a mad crowd as the engines roared to life and the cars spun around the track, leaving clouds of dust behind.
Third on his last lap, Novak maneuvered a last-second passing and crossed the finish line in second place. His girlfriend jumped into his waiting arms the moment he exited the vehicle, locking her legs around his waist and kissing him senseless.
Something pinched my heart as I watched them. I wanted that. A girl who loved me for me and would jump into my arms after a win on the field but also just because she felt like kissing the shit out of me for no reason other than we loved each other.
I cocked my head and turned to crack a joke, trying to ease the knot forming in my chest. “Hey, babe. I—” I scanned the bleachers, searching for the girls, but they had vanished. “Where’s Paige?” I asked Craig, trying to sound chill about it.
“Restroom break and then to grab snacks with Mel. Want something?”
“Hotdog. All-dressed.”
He lifted an eyebrow.
“The season hasn’t started yet. I’m allowed a cheat day.” I usually avoided junk food and empty carbs during football season as much as possible.
“Not complaining. They’re getting me cheese fries. I’ll call them.”
“Get me some too.”
We high-fived, and I directed my attention back to my friends.
Most of us arrived at the cabin Jackson’s uncle owned a little after ten. I’d ridden with Chase and my brother and stopped to buy beer while Paige and Melinda were driving his car.
Set on a five-acre lot surrounded by thick woods, the two-story property offered enough privacy for our parties, the neighbors too far away to be bothered by the noise and loud music.
A crowd filled the front lawn, and other people were on the dock, cheering the ones using the rope swing to dive into the lake.
Guys flaunted their six-packs while girls paraded in tiny bikinis, scraps of fabric leaving nothing to the imagination.
Mindy, a girl from school, neared me as soon as I hopped out of the car. “How are you doing, Mase?”
“Good.” I continued toward the front door, avoiding her wandering hands, flanked by my brother and Chase on either side of me. “Seen Paige?” I asked Craig.
“Nah. She messaged she was inside with Mel minutes ago.”
I nodded and weaved through the crowd, the deafening beat of the music pounding in my head the closer I got to the front porch.
I scrunched up my nose when the pungent scent of weed wafted in my direction, its smoke suffusing my nostrils.
Someone bumped into me as I climbed the steps, booze splashing the front of my shorts.
Great, now I looked like I pissed myself.
“Watch where you’re going,” I barked through gritted teeth.
“Idiot.” I slid to the right to avoid a girl juggling too many shot glasses, steering clear of another unwelcome spill.
Music blasted from inside, the sound earsplitting even from the other side of the wall.
Chase pushed a couple about to jump each other’s bones on the front porch while I reached for the doorknob, desperate to escape this circus.
The house was crowded, every one of my cells throbbing with the intoxicating beat of the bass.
“This is a zoo,” Chase said with a shake of his head. “None of Jax’s party has ever been this crowded before.”
Sweat pearled on my nape. Too many bodies cramped in such a small place wasn’t my definition of fun. I loved crowds, but only the ones sitting in the bleachers and cheering us on.
“Let’s drop this in the kitchen and make our way outside,” I said, barely able to drag fresh puffs of oxygen to my lungs, pointing with my chin at the booze we were all carrying.
Chase nodded.
“Going to find my girl,” my brother said, forcing his way through the crowd, with us hot on his heels.
We entered the kitchen, and I halted, the scene playing in front of us making the blood boil in my veins, my mood turning sour by the second.
Melinda was cuddling with Nathan Fucking Bellevue, both sipping from the same beer bottle and smiling at each other. He leaned forward, whispering sweet nothings in her ear as she giggled.
My jaw tensed.
Heat crept up my back.
With keen eyes, I assessed the situation, trying to keep calm and banking the hot fury awakening inside of me.
My hands curled into fists once I dropped the two twelve-packs onto the counter. Before I could do or say something I’d regret, I darted away, shouldering the screen door open with a bang, not caring if anyone stood on the other side and got swept by it.
“Asshole,” I cursed as I kicked the door shut behind me.
Mindy cornered me the moment I stepped onto the porch, trying to wind her arms around my waist. Clingy much? Geez. With a gentle push, I sidestepped and lifted a hand. “Not in the mood.”
A pout formed on her lips. “But you never are anymore. What have I ever done to you that you won’t even try to kiss me?” Her whiny tone grated on my nerves.
Jesus, I was so done with all this bullshit.
“Nothing.” I faked a smile and walked away.
“It’s an it’s not you, it’s me kinda situation,” I said over my shoulder.
I heard her complain from behind me, desperate and demanding, but I blocked out her words as I plodded toward the lake, following the narrow path between the trees.
The musky aroma of the damp soil and spruces enveloped my senses.
Sitting on a rock in the shadow of a tree, I watched the crowd swinging from the rope into the clear water under the moonlight.
One of my teammates was running around, a girl scooped over his shoulder, holding on to her backside, a beer clutched in his other hand.
They both giggled as he pretended to throw her into the lake, only to catch her at the last second.
The chatter of happy people was the background noise to my running thoughts. Closing my eyes, my fingertips found my temples, massaging the tension away. I forced a deep breath in, and another one for good measure.
Some of the annoyance tightening my upper back melted away. Yet, I wasn’t ready to join my friends and fake that I was fine when I was clearly not.
Nathan Fucking Bellevue. What a waste. I was sure his name followed the definition of douchebag in the dictionary.
Yeah, I bet the term had been invented with him in mind.
He was nothing more than a jerk with a handsome face.
He talked a good game, and girls fawned over him, but that was the extent of his talent.
I couldn’t understand how Melinda Shepard could fall for his charades.
She was smart. Smarter than most people I knew.
How could she not see how much of a loser the guy was?
My breath hitched.
The aura of danger that followed him around always caused friction amongst our friends.
Last year, he got punched in the face after he tried to coerce a girl to give him head in the janitor closet during gym class.
She wasn’t a willing participant in his little game and had kicked him in the junk.
Hard. Nathan had dismissed the fact she had a boyfriend—and two older brothers.
He then missed two full weeks of school after the three of them rearranged his face that night.
Rumor had two of his teeth were fake now and that he’d gotten a nose job to correct the damage his face had sustained.
I dragged one palm over my face, unable to quiet my troubled mind.
Nathan Bellevue was bad news. A crippling feeling knotted my insides.
I could tell this would end badly, but I had no clue how to warn Melinda without sounding like a lunatic.
She and I weren’t even friends. I knew the girl well enough to know she would tell me to mind my own business if I got involved.
If anything, my meddling in her life would push her further into the devil’s arms. Unless I got to Paige first. Perhaps she would listen to me and warn her friend.
And yet, would it make me look like a jealous asshole instead of someone who cared? Crap. I had no idea how to proceed.
A drink would taste amazing right now, and it would probably help settle my buzzing anger.
But it would also mean I might get drunk and do or say things I would regret.
Like, start a fight with Nathan Bellevue just because I was indeed a jealous bastard and I thought he was a piece of shit.
Or take Mindy up on her offer because a distraction would help me cool my temper.
My stomach curdled at the thought of her mouth on me.
Two things I didn’t need—or crave.
Instead of enjoying a night out with my friends, here I was, sulking on my own, not knowing how to react to Melinda’s actions and how to prevent her from getting hurt.
I knew I was being a hypocrite because I often attended parties with a girl locked under my arm even when I was aware of Melinda’s eyes on me.
More often than not, I played the part of the player like the role had been created for me—damn the consequences—putting more distance between us instead of trying to shatter the wall of ice that stood between us and fixing our relationship.
And here I was, tonight, upset—and hurt—that she was flirting with another guy in my face when I had no right to be.
I was being served a taste of my own medicine, and I hated every second of it. Yeah, jealousy didn’t suit me.
I sighed and hung my head low.
When did I turn into such a loser?