I twirl the plastic glow stick necklace Ollie wore the night I got patched between my fingers. I haven't talked to her in almost a month, and I feel like this tube of plastic. Useless without my light. Today was the last day of school before winter break, and I didn't even get a chance to tell her to have a great holiday.
I thought things would change after I finger fucked her on Thanksgiving, but we fell right back into the same distant routine. This is exactly what I was trying to avoid during my entire adolescent years with Ollie. The moment it dawned on me that she was a girl and a fucking hot one, I knew I'd have to keep her at friend level to avoid losing her.
Now there's no point in fighting it anymore. We've crossed that friend line, it's fucking awkward, so I might as well try and get my girl.
If only my girl would talk to me.
It'll have to wait, though. She and Andy are leaving tonight for Freecaster to spend Christmas with Andy's brother and his mom.
It's only two weeks, but I know it's going to feel like an eternity. The saying absence makes the heart grow fonder is true. Ollie has been absent, but only getting to watch her from afar makes it feel that way. Now with the break, it'll get even worse.
The sound of the front door banging open brings a groan rumbling up from my chest.
"Ooooh cuzy." Dameon's voice rings through the house.
I know why he's here. He's fulfilling his end of the deal we made. After Thanksgiving, I talked dad into letting him prospect for the Pirates. I'm not sure what he thinks will get my mind off of Ollie, but I know he's not going to let up until I get my ass up and follow him. But I swear to God, if he takes me to a whore house I'm beating him to a pulp.
When Dameon appears in my doorway, I glance up from my phone.
"Hey." He nods to my phone in hand. "Were you beating it to Ollie's pic again?"
"What?" I toss my phone down on my bed and swing my legs over the side. "No, and I never have."
Dameon's brow raises, "Really? Never? Cause I do."
I stop in the middle of tying my shoes and glare up at him. "You better be fucking joking."
"Sure!" The high-pitched tone in his voice makes me doubt he is, though. "Now come on, we can't be late." He pushes off my door frame while I finish tying my boots. I follow him to the front door, snatch my helmet and coat off the hook and throw it on. The north Flordia air is finally getting cooler as we sink deeper into winter.
Jackets are a must now, even without the open wind whipping over me while I ride.
I follow Dameon out to our bikes and get on mine after putting my helmet on. "Where the hell are we going anyway?"
"You'll see." The wicked grin on his face makes me debate going back inside and just saying fuck it. I might have done my end of the bargain, but I'm not sure I want the 'payout' from his side.
Against my better judgment, I follow Dameon to the outskirts of our city and start heading down the back roads to a small town just north of Mer Habor called Orangeford. The one shop town doesn't hold anything interesting, so I'm not sure why he'd take us there.
It isn't until he pulls off onto a dirt driveway that I realize we aren't going to Orangeford but one of the farms that's nestled in between. The thought of him bringing me here to murder me crosses my mind, and it grows when I see the crumbling farmhouse at the end of the drive. It's obvious no one lives here. What does catch my sight, though, is the field behind the house. Lights flood it, showing an oval-shaped area in the middle of the field. Cars and bikes can be seen driving around, and the melodic rumble of motors draws me in.
The stadium is a mesh of corrugated metal just slapped up to wood beams. The disorienting array of colors shows that not a lot of time was put into the construction's appearance, but it seems like a sound structure.
When we pull up to the gate entrance, Dameon yanks his helmet off and jumps off his bike.
"What is this?" I ask as I follow him to a large folding table sitting by the gate.
"Races." Dameon shakes his head like it should be obvious to me. And it is, but not like any races I've ever seen. The massive amount of people walking around brings a level of chaos and exhilaration to it. Dameon pulls out his wallet and hands two twenties to one of the guys. "Ross and Armstrong."
The guy nods and scribbles down our names in a notebook before handing us two numbers that correspond with the ones our names are written next to. "If you want to place bets, find Chris." The guy nods up to the stands.
"Thanks, Stan." Dameon grabs the numbers from him and slaps mine to my chest before bounding off back towards our bikes.
"I can pay for my own entry." My gaze darts to a couple of girls giggling as they walk past us. The large oversized sweaters might not falter their figure, but those mini jean skirts sure do.
"Nah, don't worry about it." Dameon waves it off. And get on his bike before starting it up. "First one's on me."
I follow him into the pit area, where probably a hundred other bikers are meandering around with their bikes set up on the track.
"Jesus." I frown as my gaze scans over them all.
"A mess, right?" Dameon's gaze broadens as we pull our bikes up in line with the others.
I nod in agreement. I'm not sure how the hell they're expecting us all to race at the same time. "Who the hell runs this thing?"
Dameon nods up to the stands to a framed-out area with a large metal awning roof over it. In the center, some built guy sits like a king on his aluminum throne with a chick on each side. Behind him stands a tall thin figure, giving both characters an ominous feel.
"That's Matt Jung sitting there. He runs this whole thing, then His brother, Chris is standing behind him. Tonight's races are just entry ones. You do good in tonight's events not only do you line your pockets, but you get put on Matt's list for better, more-" Dameon trails off as his smile turns impish, "organized races. He coordinates all the good races in Freecaster, Blaire Port, and here."
"Have you run any of the good races?" I turn my attention back to my cousin.
"Course, and I wouldn't be here tonight if it wasn't for getting your ass on Matt's radar, so-" he slaps me on the back, "don't let me down."
I look around at all the riders. "What do I have to place to make through to the next level?"
"Top fifty for the next, but only the top five get paid. The next race has a higher entry fee."
Around us, riders start revving their bikes up. I notice that one of the girls sitting next to the muscular guy in the chair Dameon said was Matt moves and pull out a bright white flag. Her long wavy brown hair hangs over her shoulder as she leans over the railing. I close the visor on my helmet and grip the handlebars of my bike.
Matt stands up from his throne and steps up next to the girl. His broad hand wraps around her tiny waist as he holds his hand up to shoosh the crowd in the stans.
"Bets are closed! Racers! Five laps, top five collect your winnings at the registration table, the rest of you, better luck next time."
I need to get into the top five.
Bikes around me roar as their riders rev them up. The dirt will make the tires slip. There's no point in trying to peel out. It's only going to slow me down more.
Matt whispers something to the brunette and kisses her neck before returning to his seat. I intently watch the flag in the girl's hand, waiting for her to drop it. Stay focused, get ahead of the pack right out of the gate, and away from the chaos. The moment the flag falls, I hit the gas and stream head most of the idiots left behind. Dameon is right on my flank, but I don't have time to worry about him. If he's past the entry point, he knows what he's doing anyway.
The wind pulses past my knuckles and burns them with the slight chill in the air. The whirling sound it makes just outside my helmet is like a sweet lullaby. The speed and rumble of my bike beneath me give me the sensation that I'm a bird soaring above the ground. I feel free and exhilarated. My mind is too focused on the track to think of anything other than weaving in between bikes as I pass them and uneven dirt track.
As I round the second bend, I snag a glance up to the stands. The second girl is holding out a poster sign with a big black bold one written on it. One lap down and just a couple more guys to pass before I'm in the lead.
I bare down on the gas and pick up speed, leaving a plume of dust in my wake. The last few guys greedily think they have it in the bag, so I wait for my time. I stay just behind them as we around the track.
Two.
Three.
Four.
When we get to the last turn, I gun it, taking them by surprise when I jet out in front of them. I don't look behind me. At this point, it's just best to focus on the goal, and right now, that is a curvy petite brunette at the finish line waiting to wave the flag in her manicured hand.
When I blow past her and come to a stop, that's when I glance around to see who made it. Dameon's bike skids to a stop next to me before he jerks his helmet off his head. "Fuck yeah!"
The other races soon follow, making me realize Dameon and I took first and second. Victory pumps through my veins like a burning fire. The high is exhilarating, and I can't wait for the next race to feel it again.
I absentmindedly throw my visor up and reach for my phone to text Ollie. She's the first person I want to tell her about my victory. I get as far as opening my screening and pulling up her number before stopping myself.
"Do it." Dameon urges as he starts walking his bike off the track. "Text her."
I quickly pocket my phone and follow after him. A frown forms on my face. "No. She isn't talking to me."
When we get off to the side and out of the way of the other racers, Dameon hangs his helmet off the handlebars and rakes his fingers through his hair. The cheekbone-length hair falls back into place as his fingers pass through. "So in retaliation, you're not talking to her?"
"No, I've been trying, but I'm starting to look pathetic." My fingers still twitch to text her, even if it's just a goodnight, Sunshine.
"Starting?" Dameon taunts with a wicked grin on his face.
I remind myself I can't kill him here. There are too many witnesses. So instead, I flick him off before digging my phone out. I'm not planning on texting, and I know Ollie hasn't texted me, but for some reason, I feel the need to check.
"Just text her." Dameon groans and gets off his bike. "Tell her you won the race, and now your compensation for your tiny penis is fulfilled.
I scoff, not taking my eyes off the screen. I know for a fact that ain't a problem. I have nothing to compensate for. I'm also not telling her about the races. A sweet little thing like her has no business at a place like this, and if she finds out about illegal racing going on, it'll be one of the first places she'll be trying to get to.
I chew on my bottom lip, mulling over what I should text her.
Z- I hope you have a good time at your uncle's. I miss you, Sunshine.
I go to put my phone away, knowing that she isn't going to text me back. That is until I take one last glance at the screen before slipping it into my pocket. The bouncing bubble reply stills my arm as I stare dumbfounded at the screen.
O- I miss you too, Zany. Happy Holidays.
Thank you so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed the demon deal! I have an announcement, and I've been holding off on telling you all, but... there is going to be a second book! Matt and Chris will play a bigger part in that book, and I'm so excited to introduce them to you!
I know updates haven't been as often lately, but I've been so busy with IRL stuff. My husband's birthday is coming up, and also the holidays have us busy. This might be the last update before the holidays, so just in case-
Happy Holidays everyone!
All I want for Christmas is for all of you to have a safe, healthy, and happy holiday wherever you are. I appreciate you all so much, and you've been a great motivator to keep up this story. I hope to get back on a better schedule after the holiday season. So bear with me. I'm not giving up on the story. I have much, much more to come!