#Rev (GearShark #2) (14 page)

That slightly dizzy, somewhat nauseous but thrilling sensation filling me was no longer just a side effect of driving tricks.

It made me homesick for him. It had been only hours, but I missed him.

My car jerked to a stop. Smoke from the tires floated up around the body of the car and disappeared into the air. Without thought, my palm rubbed my chest. A little of the homesickness went away.

I pulled my hand back.
Wonder what the fuck I was thinking.

Then I realized.

I’d been rubbing the mark he’d left on my chest. And it made me miss him less.

Well, damn.

A horn cut through the air, and I jerked. Arrow was already way over by the barns.

“Shit,” I muttered and hit the gas. I tore over the pavement and parked near the Camaro.

“So what is this place?” I asked as we both climbed out of our rides.

“It used to be the town airport, like back when I was a kid,” he explained.

I suppressed a laugh. I was very proud of myself.

Arrow went on. “But they built that new one on the other side of town.”

“You just have access to it?”

He shook his head. “My father owns this place. Keeps his planes here.”

I knew Lorhaven had money and he was born into it, but they had their own private airstrip. With planes?

“Good place to drive.” I looked around, choosing not to acknowledge the fact they were obviously crazy rich.

They weren’t the first I knew. Hell, I didn’t grow up poor. And I lived with two NFL stars. Money wasn’t new to me just because I wasn’t rolling around in it. No one wanted to be judged or even befriended based on cash anyway.

“Good place to work on cars, too.” He pushed away from the black Camaro and walked over to the nearest “barn.” I watched him click a button on his keychain, and the door to the thing swung wide.

Inside the dome-shaped building was a full-on garage. Man, was it sweet.

It was basically #CarGoals.

Before, Trent I would have said it was #Lifegoals.

I whistled beneath my breath. “This is a sweet setup.” I felt Arrow watching as I walked in and wandered around. My fingers itched to touch all the tools and the parts out for cleaning or just on display.

In the center was a freaking car lift. Like the kind you saw at car repair shops. Damn, that would be so nice to have. It would make oil changes and undercarriage work so much easier.

On the walls hung a bunch of ribbons and awards. There was even the title to the Camaro, Lorhaven’s Corvette, and a couple other cars I’d never seen them drive.

“So where’s all the cars?” I asked, motioning at the titles.

“In the next hanger.”

Large stainless-steel tool lockers and toolboxes on giant rolling casters lined the walls.

“Your favorite is the Camaro, though, huh?” I swung around to look at him.

He nodded. “It’s tough.”

I don’t know why, but to me, that seemed like an odd response. Did he need a tough car because he didn’t feel so tough himself?

God. I was turning into Oprah.

I needed some fries. A beer. And my person.

Not necessarily in that order.

I pulled my hands out of the pockets of my leather jacket and pivoted toward the entrance. My eyes caught a display nearby, and they about fell out of my head.

“Is that a vintage Benford sparkplug?”

“Yep.”

That sparkplug had its own gravitational pull. I couldn’t resist going over and letting my hands hover over the space above it. “I’ve never seen one of these in person,” I said, awed.

Serious car junkies sometimes collected rare or vintage car parts. Sparkplugs could be very sought after, including this one. It was plated with twenty-four-carat gold.

“You can touch it,” Arrow said from close by.

I hadn’t even noticed him approach. I was too blinded by the vintage beauty.

“Where the hell did you find this?” I asked, picking it up and cradling it gently. I smoothed my thumb over the sides.

“Not sure. It’s my brother’s.”

I grimaced. I’d forgotten about Lorhaven.

Reluctantly, I put it down and resisted the urge to pull out my phone and take a selfie with it.

Please. It would be better than those horrid bathroom selfies people post all over social media. Like, dude, no one wants to see your toilet.

“I’m sure your brother would blow a gasket if he knew you brought me here.”

“He’s not that bad.”

I leveled my eyes on his. “I still have the dents in my fender from when he tried to run me off the road.”

Arrow grinned.

“Anyway…” I began and stepped back from the sparkplug. “You’re doing better with the driving. Just remember what I said.”

“You’re leaving?” he asked.

“I got places to be.” T’s classes were letting out soon.

“I can help you with those dents if you want.” He offered.

I glanced up, and he looked away shyly. Poor kid probably didn’t have any friends. His brother likely scared them all away.

“Maybe another time,” I said.

I was almost to the door when he spoke again. “So what’s up with you and your manager?”

I stopped and turned. “What do you mean?”

“Haven’t seen him around much lately.”

“He’s been busy.”

“So he’s still around?”

I hesitated. “Yeah…”

“What about that pro driver? The girl?”

“Joey went back home.”

He was full of questions suddenly.

“Cool.” He shifted. Awkwardness was like his new best friend.

“I’ll catch you later,” I said, lifting a hand and waving.

“See ya,” Arrow called back.

That was weird, right?

In the car, the first thing I did was check my cell. There was text from T.

Class over. Stopping by the frat b4 I find you.

Want me to meet you there?
I texted back.

No. I’ll come to you.

I knew he’d say that.
Everything okay?

No.

My fingers spasmed around the black case on my phone.
What the hell does that mean?

I turned the key and fired up the engine while I waited, impatient for a reply.

I miss you.

It was a good thing I was alone, because the goofy grin on my face when I read that would have been embarrassing.

Me, too.

I’ll hurry.

I dropped the phone in my lap and sped home. I even ran a couple lights just for fun.

Just as I turned onto my street, the sky opened up and rain literally dumped from the clouds. “Seriously?” I yelled upward.

A crack of lightning and the rumble of thunder replied.

“Assholes,” I muttered.

No one was home when I pulled in the driveway. Romeo and B left to do some NFL stuff this morning and wouldn’t be back until the day after tomorrow. Rim was probably at the shelter, and Ivy could’ve been anywhere. Probably at the boutique or shopping for her fashion channel.

Since Romeo wasn’t home, I took advantage and opened up the garage and drove in. He always parked here, but since him and his Hellcat would be gone tonight, I could do the work on my car inside, rain be damned.

The sound of the heavy drops splattering against the driveway (the door was still open) was kind of nice. After shedding my jacket, I got to work unloading the car parts and pulling out tools.

As I worked, my mind drifted to the place it always seemed to go lately.

Trent.

Trent

The sky seemed to open up out of nowhere. One second, everything was calm (but gray), and the next, heavy sheets of rain pounded my windshield.

I didn’t mind the rain so much, though. It had a sort of cleansing effect on things. Washing away the worst to give way to a clean slate.

Today had been long. People stared, people asked me about my bruises, and rumors flew. I didn’t do anything to dissuade any of the talk. Why should I?

Let the fuckers who worked me over get a nice heap of oh fuck. Let them hear it all, see it all, and get nervous. I saw one of the four on campus. The second he saw me, he turned and hiked the other direction.

The second classes were over, I went to the frat, did some obligatory shit, and then swung by a drive-thru on the way home. It wasn’t dark yet when I pulled into the driveway, though everything outside was shrouded in shadows and the sun was nowhere to be seen.

The garage door was open, and the Fastback was parked inside. The hood was propped up, and I smiled because I knew Drew was there leaning over the engine.

Almost as if he heard my thought, the top of his blond head poked up and stared out through the heavy rain to my car.

I cut the engine and pulled my black baseball hat a little lower to shield my face. Rain pelted me the instant I lurched out of the dry interior of my car, and water splashed up my ankles as I ran into the garage. Once there, I stopped and shook myself like a dog fresh out of the bath.

“What took you so long?” Drew griped, coming around the car. His blue eyes slid up my body and latched onto my face.

From beneath the rim of my hat, I watched him, taking in his familiar, welcome form. “Brought you some fries.” I held up a white paper sack. The coffee I’d gotten myself was still in the Mustang, long forgotten. Who needed caffeine when I had a dimple-wielding car addict in front of me?

Drew snatched the bag out of my hand and reached in to pull out a bunch of fries. I watched him shove them all into his mouth. The side of his cheek puffed out with the food, and his eyes rolled back a little while he groaned. “I needed these.”

Just like that, my day didn’t seem so long anymore. In fact, I stood there and prayed the minutes—no, the seconds dragged by from here on out because I wanted as much time with him as humanly possible.

“What about me?” I scoffed, mock indignation in my voice.

Drew shoved another huge bite of fries into his mouth. “Fries before guys.”

“Your priorities suck, Forrester,” I told him.

He set aside the sack and wiped the salty grease from his food on the shoulder of his shirt. Correction,
my
shirt.

The toes of his shoes hit mine when he stepped up close. His hands reached for my hat and spun it around backward on my head.

Excitement curled low in my belly, and I had to force myself to stand there and not grab him close. I liked the anticipation. Of waiting to see what he would do. Of not being the one to always make the first move.

I wasn’t opposed to it. In fact, if someone asked, I would likely answer I made a lot more first moves than he did.

That’s what made this moment so much sweeter.

“My priorities are exactly as they should be.” His voice was low. I had to strain to hear him over the pounding of the rain.

I lifted an eyebrow. “Fries before guys.” I reminded him.

“You’re not a guy.”

“No?”

He closed the distance between us. Our chests bumped when he advanced. Any bystander might glance at us and assume we were measuring the other, possibly even challenging the other… but there was no challenge here.

Only desire.

His lips came close. “No,” he whispered. I felt the brush of his mouth more than I actually heard the word.

Then he was kissing me, and I forgot all about fries and anticipation. I sank into the kiss. I actually felt my soul tug inside me, swaying toward Drew.

Unable to help myself, I wrapped one arm around his shoulders and held him tightly against my body. Drew’s hands wound around my waist and dipped low, fingertips pulling at the hem of my shirt, and my back muscles contracted waiting for his touch.

Instead of going up beneath the fabric, his hands slid down, diving right into the back pockets of my jeans so he could palm my ass.

I groaned into his mouth and tilted my head a little farther. Drew intensified the kiss, his tongue delving deep, and we battled it out for who could explore more of the other.

A crash of thunder literally shook the roof, but it didn’t matter. We were creating our own storm right here in each other’s arms. When at last he retreated, he did so slowly, pulling my lower lip as he went, tugging it out and sucking gently.

My heart was thumping when we pulled apart and the air brushed over my kiss-slicked lips and made them feel cold.

Drew smirked like he was proud of himself for kissing the shit out of me and reached down to adjust the hardness beneath his jeans. When he was done, he reached over and adjusted mine.

Blazing hot need pulsed through my veins. “Be careful, Forrester,” I said, hoarse. “Your virginity is at stake.”

He scoffed and grabbed the bag of fries to shove some more in his face. His lips were slightly swollen now from kissing.

“I hate to break it to you,” he said, chewing loudly, “but that ship sailed a long time ago.”

“Not the ship I’m talking about.”

He paused in chewing. The second he realized what I meant, he glanced down at my cock.

“I took your virginity.” The possession and pride in his tone was just a little arrogant.

“I gave it to you.” I corrected.

“Would you do it again?” His voice was curious, if even a little abrupt.

Was that a little vulnerability? I smiled. “That’s something I can only give once.”

He made a face, and the white sack crumpled when his hand clenched around it.

“Yeah, Forrester,” I said low. “I’d do it again.”

Just like that, the confidence he always wore like a second skin came back. His smile was quick and satisfied. His hand dove back in for the food. “I’m not sharing my fries.”

“There’s ketchup in the bag,” I told him, amused. Like I even entertained the thought of him sharing those damn fries. “And I do have a burger in there… You gonna eat that, too?”

He made a face. “You probably got extra tomato on it.”

“Nah, I’ll just add the tomato off yours to mine.”

He grunted and moved to the front of the car. “Come look at this. I need a hand with the engine.”

Just like that, we transitioned into best friend mode. I loved it. I loved the layers to our relationship. I loved how one minute, he was adjusting my junk because he was the one who made it hard, and the next, we were eating burgers and arguing over the best way to fix an engine.

It was everything. And though our relationship had many layers, they weren’t separate. Like my feelings for him weren’t kept in a neat little box beside the one where our friendship was.

We swirled together. Like chocolate and vanilla soft serve, like ketchup and mustard on a burger.

Our friendship was better because of our love. Our love was better because it blossomed out of friendship.

“You need some muscle,” I told him after a few minutes of watching him work. “Step aside.” I used the flat of my hand against his shoulder to push him over to wedge myself above the engine where he’d been showing me what he was doing.

After a few seconds, I loosened the cap he was struggling with and also flipped a few other things open and pulled out a bad sparkplug.

“See?” I held the plug up with one hand and patted his cheek with my other. “I think Mr. Magazine Cover is turning into a pretty boy.”

Drew slapped my hand away. “Asshole.”

I laughed and went back to work. The garage was dim because there was only one overhead light and the sky outside was darkening quickly. The rainstorm added an extra gloomy quality to the light, but it wasn’t a hindrance. We were two guys hunkered down amongst tools and greasy food. Just the two of us without the outside world to bother with.

A little while later, my hands were dirty and the scent of oil filled the air. Both our heads were bent low and a bare bulb was lit and clipped to the underside of the hood, giving us some much-needed extra light.

I felt Drew move slightly, his elbows hitting the edge of the car. “So this is what you had in mind for dinner tonight?”

I moved back and grabbed a nearby rag to wipe off my hands. “Do you need more romance, Forrester?” I teased.

“Do you?” He wasn’t teasing. Slowly, Drew pulled back, propped a hip against the car, and crossed his arms over his chest.

I watched him closely, trying to hear what he hadn’t said. “Why would you think that?”

He shrugged. “You’re not the best talker, T. That’s cool, but I don’t want you sacrificing your own happiness for mine.”

I dropped the rag on the workbench and stepped closer, mirroring his position. It hit me in all the soft spots. He was asking if I was happy like he was worried I wasn’t.

As if I could be anything but happy with him.

“All I want is who we are.” I gestured between us. “Burgers and fries, engines, bad jokes, and maybe you beside me in bed at night.”

“That’s all?” He tilted his head.

I nodded. “But if you need more separation… like more friend time and more… person time, then I’m down. Say the word. I’ll even get you some flowers and pretend I’m nervous when I pick you up at the door.”

I’d totally be nervous. But he didn’t need to know I was serious. But joking aside, this was something I needed to know. I thought the way we blended was perfect, but what if he didn’t feel the same?

“Flowers?” He cocked an eyebrow.

“You can be the girl in the relationship.” So maybe I wasn’t done joking. On the outside anyway. It helped cover some of the nerves bunching low in my belly. Even though we made it past a lot of hard parts, it didn’t mean any of this was easy. It might not ever be. But some things in life were worth the struggle.

He laughed and shook his head. The blue of his eyes sparked with amusement, and I relaxed a little. “You know how I feel about labels, frat boy.”

“My bad.” I pretended to be sorry.

Drew chuckled and rubbed a hand over his face. He had some grease smeared on his fingers. I thought about snatching his hand and cleaning it up for him. “I don’t want you to think I’m ashamed of you. Of us.”

I stiffened, and although I didn’t make a sound, I still heard a low whistle in my mind. That was a heavy sentence to drop. It blew up all traces of jokes and sarcasm. “I don’t think that.”

He glanced up, held my eyes. I liked the way we’d grown together. How once we skirted around the way we felt, ran from our thoughts. Now we looked each other in the eye and dealt with it.

“I had some time to think today.”

I nodded so he would continue.

“You noticed how I reacted when everyone looked at us when we came downstairs, how my instinct was to pull away. I haven’t told my father, my brother, or Gamble.”

“Drew—” I started, but he cut me off.

“You’ve been shouldering our relationship alone. You got attacked for it. You faced the frat and when you told the family you were gay. You. Not me. You probably wouldn’t have told them about me at all if I hadn’t spoken up. Would you?”

Slowly, I shook my head. Of course I wouldn’t. That was his decision to make. I’d never take something like that out of his hands.

Drew pressed his lips together before continuing. “You’ve kept me out of it. You’ve been shielding me.”

“And I’ll keep doing it. There’s no timeline on this. There’s no rule that says you have to spring out of the closet and shout our relationship to the world. You don’t have to declare we’re dating. You don’t have to hold my hand in public. You don’t have to do anything you aren’t ready for.”

“I called Ron Gamble before you got here,” he said.

I jerked upright. “What?”

“I asked for a meeting. I’m going to tell him.”

“If you’re doing this because you somehow think I want you to…”