“Yeah.” I pull my gloves free inside the back room and then grin up at him in wonder, disbelief, and a high you couldn’t believe.
“Come here, you little fucker.” He squeezes me and I squeeze back, both of us laughing, then I shove my hands out. “Help me take these off. I want to tell Reese.”
Oz works one hand free and I use my teeth to pull my tapes off the other as fast as I can. Suddenly I’m on fire to tell her. I can’t wait another second to tell her.
There’s only one thing I want right now. One thing that will make this real. Telling Reese she’ll be watching me fight at the final.
THIRTY-EIGHT
MILES
Reese
I’m stepping out of the shower when Miles texts me the club address where they’re waiting for me. I answer his text:
I’ll meet you there.
And quickly change, let Brooke know I’m leaving and Racer is asleep, and I head off, assuring her I’ll be safe and home before Racer wakes.
The club is packed, bustling with dancing bodies and thrumming with music. Inside the club, I spot Miles, Avery, and Gabe. I head over. Avery is pressed to Gabe’s side. They’ve been on and off together for ages.
Miles is wearing his contacts, his hair slicked back, wearing a polo and tan slacks. Gabe is in jeans and a pastel polo. Avery is dressed to slay in a sequined top.
“Well, well, well!” Gabe says when I ease into the booth in the only space left, next to Miles. “Our worldly little lady is here.”
“Thanks, Gabe.”
“Won’t you say hello to me, Reesey?” Miles asks, waiting.
“Hi, Miles,” I say.
I used to leap at the opportunity to kiss his cheek, but it’s too clean-shaven and white, and I hesitate. I lean over and briefly brush my lips to his jaw.
Miles leans back with a frown. “You look different.” He eyes me.
“She looks radiant! You look so . . . fit!” Avery says, disgruntled.
“I can see that,” Miles says, studying me in appraisal.
I would’ve killed for this look before. But it’s such a lukewarm look after the smoldering ones I’ve gotten lately. I’m amazed how unaffected I am. I’m amazed by how much distance puts things in perspective.
The three of them look different to me.
Miles sits there, the computer wizard that he is. Preppy and confident and just a tad too smug.
Gabe is outspoken and chill, but half the things he says are bullshit.
And Avery . . .
I never really knew Avery. She’s always with Gabe and Gabe is always with Miles, and Miles, for some reason, liked to hover around me.
I wonder why I liked to hover around him too, and then wonder if maybe I’d truly felt so lonely, I’d rather have them than no one at all?
I’m not real with them, and I guess, neither are they with me.
I realize now that they always seem careful and distrustful around me. As if they believe I’m falling off the wagon any second now.
They order drinks. “She’ll have water.” Miles signals at me.
I smile. I used to be grateful that he looked out for me. Now I’m annoyed that he feels the need to make the decision for me, the request of water for me.
“I’ll have a sparkling water with lime,” I say. “Thanks.”
“Spill the beans, Reese. What does it feel like to travel the country and be part of all the excitement?” Avery asks.
“I spend more time with Racer than anyone else, and he’s very exciting. ER visits included.”
“Ohmigod, poor you. Why even work during the summer?” Avery asks, pulling Gabe’s arm tighter around her shoulders. “You should’ve come to the fight with us,” she says. “The eye candy was ridiculous!”
“Reese is immune to all that, she likes brains rather than brawn, right, Reese?” Miles says.
“I like both, actually,” I say.
Miles lifts his brows. And I lift mine back.
“Riptide is scrumptious. Avenger is absolutely wicked! He’s scary though,” Avery continues.
“Dude, I’d piss my pants faced with that,” Gabe says, laughing.
“Speaking of.” Miles stretches his arm out on the seat behind me. “So the one-on-one with Riptide? You think that’s possible?” he asks.
“It would be incredibly cool,” Gabe seconds.
I shift forward. Not liking Miles’s arm near me. It’s new for me, and it makes him shift a little closer.
Our drinks arrive, and I’m reaching for my sparkling water when the waiter sets a penny right on the corner of my napkin.
I blink and look at it, and my stomach starts whirling. I lift my head and anxiously scan the crowd. I don’t notice Miles, Avery, and Gabe are looking behind my shoulder, in shock. I don’t notice how my body is starting to crackle. I don’t notice how my heart is speeding. I don’t notice anything but the fact that I’m scanning the crowded club for a glimpse of dark hair, gorgeous metal eyes, and my rebel maverick.
And with the achingly delicious make-out song of “Madness” by Muse in the background, I start when I see a flash of dark hair in my peripherals.
Lips against my ear whispering, “Dance with me. . . . ”
He takes my hand without waiting for my reply, the hand clutching the penny. He takes it from my fingers and, when he wraps his arm around me, slips the penny into the little pocket at the hip of my dress.
We’re in the center of the dance floor.
We stand there, among the shimmering dresses, the bustling bodies, the noise. At the booth, my friends are gaping. Avery is doing Maverick with her eyes and I don’t want her to look at him. I don’t want anyone to look at him. He’s mine.
He’s looking down at me, jaw clenched a little in frustration, eyes smoldering with desire.
I check him out in his worn jeans and the soft T-shirt he’s wearing. He looks freshly showered and shaven. There’s a light shade of purple, high on one cheekbone, and it only accentuates his hotness.
I can’t breathe or concentrate or think when Maverick slides his arm around my waist.
I feel drunk. I’m a puddle in his arms.
His lips curl a little when I can’t move, and he takes my wrists to wrap them around his neck. “You don’t dance, Reese?” he teases me huskily. “You put one hand here”—he settles it on the back of his neck—“the other one here”—he settles that one on the back of his neck too. “You let me pull you close.” He does. Until our bodies are flush and I can feel him and I’m alive. And he whispers in my ear, “And you move with me.”
“Come here, you little fucker.” He squeezes me and I squeeze back, both of us laughing, then I shove my hands out. “Help me take these off. I want to tell Reese.”
Oz works one hand free and I use my teeth to pull my tapes off the other as fast as I can. Suddenly I’m on fire to tell her. I can’t wait another second to tell her.
There’s only one thing I want right now. One thing that will make this real. Telling Reese she’ll be watching me fight at the final.
THIRTY-EIGHT
MILES
Reese
I’m stepping out of the shower when Miles texts me the club address where they’re waiting for me. I answer his text:
I’ll meet you there.
And quickly change, let Brooke know I’m leaving and Racer is asleep, and I head off, assuring her I’ll be safe and home before Racer wakes.
The club is packed, bustling with dancing bodies and thrumming with music. Inside the club, I spot Miles, Avery, and Gabe. I head over. Avery is pressed to Gabe’s side. They’ve been on and off together for ages.
Miles is wearing his contacts, his hair slicked back, wearing a polo and tan slacks. Gabe is in jeans and a pastel polo. Avery is dressed to slay in a sequined top.
“Well, well, well!” Gabe says when I ease into the booth in the only space left, next to Miles. “Our worldly little lady is here.”
“Thanks, Gabe.”
“Won’t you say hello to me, Reesey?” Miles asks, waiting.
“Hi, Miles,” I say.
I used to leap at the opportunity to kiss his cheek, but it’s too clean-shaven and white, and I hesitate. I lean over and briefly brush my lips to his jaw.
Miles leans back with a frown. “You look different.” He eyes me.
“She looks radiant! You look so . . . fit!” Avery says, disgruntled.
“I can see that,” Miles says, studying me in appraisal.
I would’ve killed for this look before. But it’s such a lukewarm look after the smoldering ones I’ve gotten lately. I’m amazed how unaffected I am. I’m amazed by how much distance puts things in perspective.
The three of them look different to me.
Miles sits there, the computer wizard that he is. Preppy and confident and just a tad too smug.
Gabe is outspoken and chill, but half the things he says are bullshit.
And Avery . . .
I never really knew Avery. She’s always with Gabe and Gabe is always with Miles, and Miles, for some reason, liked to hover around me.
I wonder why I liked to hover around him too, and then wonder if maybe I’d truly felt so lonely, I’d rather have them than no one at all?
I’m not real with them, and I guess, neither are they with me.
I realize now that they always seem careful and distrustful around me. As if they believe I’m falling off the wagon any second now.
They order drinks. “She’ll have water.” Miles signals at me.
I smile. I used to be grateful that he looked out for me. Now I’m annoyed that he feels the need to make the decision for me, the request of water for me.
“I’ll have a sparkling water with lime,” I say. “Thanks.”
“Spill the beans, Reese. What does it feel like to travel the country and be part of all the excitement?” Avery asks.
“I spend more time with Racer than anyone else, and he’s very exciting. ER visits included.”
“Ohmigod, poor you. Why even work during the summer?” Avery asks, pulling Gabe’s arm tighter around her shoulders. “You should’ve come to the fight with us,” she says. “The eye candy was ridiculous!”
“Reese is immune to all that, she likes brains rather than brawn, right, Reese?” Miles says.
“I like both, actually,” I say.
Miles lifts his brows. And I lift mine back.
“Riptide is scrumptious. Avenger is absolutely wicked! He’s scary though,” Avery continues.
“Dude, I’d piss my pants faced with that,” Gabe says, laughing.
“Speaking of.” Miles stretches his arm out on the seat behind me. “So the one-on-one with Riptide? You think that’s possible?” he asks.
“It would be incredibly cool,” Gabe seconds.
I shift forward. Not liking Miles’s arm near me. It’s new for me, and it makes him shift a little closer.
Our drinks arrive, and I’m reaching for my sparkling water when the waiter sets a penny right on the corner of my napkin.
I blink and look at it, and my stomach starts whirling. I lift my head and anxiously scan the crowd. I don’t notice Miles, Avery, and Gabe are looking behind my shoulder, in shock. I don’t notice how my body is starting to crackle. I don’t notice how my heart is speeding. I don’t notice anything but the fact that I’m scanning the crowded club for a glimpse of dark hair, gorgeous metal eyes, and my rebel maverick.
And with the achingly delicious make-out song of “Madness” by Muse in the background, I start when I see a flash of dark hair in my peripherals.
Lips against my ear whispering, “Dance with me. . . . ”
He takes my hand without waiting for my reply, the hand clutching the penny. He takes it from my fingers and, when he wraps his arm around me, slips the penny into the little pocket at the hip of my dress.
We’re in the center of the dance floor.
We stand there, among the shimmering dresses, the bustling bodies, the noise. At the booth, my friends are gaping. Avery is doing Maverick with her eyes and I don’t want her to look at him. I don’t want anyone to look at him. He’s mine.
He’s looking down at me, jaw clenched a little in frustration, eyes smoldering with desire.
I check him out in his worn jeans and the soft T-shirt he’s wearing. He looks freshly showered and shaven. There’s a light shade of purple, high on one cheekbone, and it only accentuates his hotness.
I can’t breathe or concentrate or think when Maverick slides his arm around my waist.
I feel drunk. I’m a puddle in his arms.
His lips curl a little when I can’t move, and he takes my wrists to wrap them around his neck. “You don’t dance, Reese?” he teases me huskily. “You put one hand here”—he settles it on the back of his neck—“the other one here”—he settles that one on the back of his neck too. “You let me pull you close.” He does. Until our bodies are flush and I can feel him and I’m alive. And he whispers in my ear, “And you move with me.”
