Page 23 of Racing Hearts

“I didn’t ask,” he snaps.

“Sure.” Gripping my bag, I toss it over my shoulders. “Later, Alek, try not to scare too many people tonight.”

I take two steps before his voice stops me. “Rich boy.”

I swallow my smirk as I turn to face him.

Oh yes, Alek Anders will be mine. He just doesn’t know it yet.

TWELVE

He turns to face me, one perfectly shaped eyebrow raised. His piercings flash in the light, and his hair is wavy tonight, which is a first. Maybe he didn’t style it? It hangs around his face, one side pushed behind his ear, and I realize he looks younger. His face is . . . different. Does he wear makeup? His eyes are usually darker, but tonight, they pop. When I just stare, hesitating, he tilts his head.

“Alek?” he retorts, not backing down.

Hell, he even stopped me from hitting him and then casually dropped to his knees and took care of my wounds, ruining his expensive pants in the meantime, all without asking for a thank you. He said I could call us even. Is that the only reason why?

Nobody has ever bandaged my wounds for me before, not even Alice.

I get hurt so often that I’m used to it, but something about this fiery, silver-haired man blowing on my wound made me weak. I shouldn’t have hit him. Why did I? Why did I want more after he pressed his lips to my skin?

Shaking my head, I remind myself that offering him a ride is just what a nice guy would do. It’s what I should do for my sister’s friend—nothing more, nothing less. It’s late, and he’s still recovering from being sick. He could get hurt.

I’m just being nice.

That little voice inside chuckles. Since when am I nice to anyone?

“Get in,” I demand gruffly, and then I let him choose. I won’t make him. Sliding into my car, I throw the bag in the back and start the engine, but he just stands there.

“Get in,” I call again.

He treads closer, leaning into my window. “I didn’t hear that.”

“Where are you going?” I ask instead.

What if he’s going to his boyfriend’s or out? It is late, after all.

Shit, I shouldn’t have said anything. My hand grips the wheel harder.

“Home,” he says, and my grip relaxes.

“Fine, get in,” I mutter, cranking up the heat.

“No, I’ll walk. It’s fine,” he starts, and I turn my head, meeting his bright eyes.

“Evan, get in the fucking car.” For a moment, he just stares at me before he sighs and heads around the front, getting in the passenger seat and dropping his bag between his feet. His arms are covered in goose bumps, so I crank up the heat all the way before I pull out of the lot.

The silence stretches on, and when I glance over at him, he’s watching me. “What?” I ask quietly.

“Did Alice ask you to?” he teases.

I yank the wheel and pull over, ignoring the honking traffic. “Get out.”

Laughing, he settles deeper into the seat. “Get out,” I snap.

“No. Now, are you going to drive, or are we going to stare at each other all night?” He leans over the stick, his eyes dropping to my lips. “Unless you want to do something else.”

Snarling, I swerve back into traffic, ignoring his chuckle as it throws him back into the seat. “Belt,” I demand.

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