Shifting Gears

6. The Date-Crasher

"Well, I think both of you will do fine this year," I finally said. "Greyson can't barge into Raven Heights and just bully his way to the top."

Reid smiled. "Greyson can't beat your brother," he said, as if to reassure himself.

"And Greyson is just a meanie-pants."

His smile widened. "Greyson's a jerk."

"Greyson's a—"

"Hot, sexy, hunk of a man."

Reid and I both snapped our heads around at the new voice.

Well. Speak of the devil.

Greyson Ryvers stood not five feet away from Reid's and my booth on the side of the diner. His customary smirk curved his face, his green eyes dark in the casually lit room. On his arm was a redhead I recognized as one of those girls from the track. The kind of girls that go to the track for the rider, not the races.

Usually to find a ride.

"When you guys hooked up to go on a date, I thought you'd talking about each other." His eyes never met Reid's. They were stuck on me. "I didn't think it'd be a Greyson Ryvers roast."

I inhaled deeply, my fist clenching. "What are you doing here?"

"Just what you two little innocent bunnies are doing—having a date." Greyson's "date" grinned dreamily and ignorantly up at her catch. 

"Well, go somewhere else," I snapped.

Greyson chuckled. "America. Land of the free. I can eat where I want, Lawson."

I glared at him. He smirked at me.

"You know, why don't we just join you?" Greyson said. He unlatched the girl from his side and made a move to slide into the booth right next to me. Quicker than a blink of an eye, Reid shot up out of his seat.

"I don't think so, Ryvers." His tone was low—threatening.

Greyson paused, his eyes finally wandering toward my brother's best friend. 

"What's the problem, Boseth?" Greyson asked, his tone equally low. Reid came to stand in front of Greyson, arms crossed—not too close to appear to want a go at him, just close enough to let Greyson know that he wasn't fazed by his presence.

But Greyson wasn't fazed as well. He stood up straighter. They reached about the same height, but Greyson's attitude added a foot to his appearance.

A small, nervous clearing of the throat made the redhead and I look behind Greyson.

The tiny, wide-eyed waitress stood tensely a few feet away. "Is—Is there a problem, sirs?" her voice said shakily.

Greyson and Reid were still off in their own world, having a little stare down.

So I answered with, "No. Sorry for any commotion. We're fine."

"Two more will be joining this booth," Greyson said confidently, his words directed towards the waitress. She bobbed her head, then practically sprinted back to the kitchen.

Reid sighed defeatedly. "Fine." Without saying anything else, Reid sat harshly down next to me, ensuring that nobody else could take that seat. I could feel the tension radiating off his body.

Greyson raised his chin. "Fine," he replied. "Footsies it is then." The cocky racer added his usual smirk to that and placed himself in the seat directly opposite of mine. 

The waitress was back, hurriedly asking for drinks before rushing off again. I felt bad for her. It's a good thing my brother wasn't here. He and Reid were different in the sense that Reid was logical. He knew that picking a fight was probably a dumb idea, so he just tried to ignore the dark-haired racer across from us by perusing the menu.