Page 9 of Racing Hearts

Evan? Cute?

She’s fucking blind.

As if us speaking of the devil made him appear, he skates past me on a board. His straight, icy hair flows in the wind like we are in some fucking commercial. His eyes are bloodshot and red, but there’s a smile curving his pierced lip. Wearing baggy jeans, with paint splattered across them, and an oversized shirt, he’s the total opposite of me in my all-black attire. For a moment, I debate running him over for making my sister look at him, and my lips curl into a smile at the idea, even as my heart races with the thought. Stupid organ. When he’s out of sight, it finally seems to calm down, and so does my anger, so they must be linked.

Shaking my head, I lay my arm across the other seat and reverse, leaving my sister and that idiot to their education.

I skipped out of work early, something I never do, but I’m exhausted and my boss could see that. Luckily, I’m a hard worker, so he let it slide, but I can’t make this a regular thing. Rubbing my face, I lean back in my car as I wait. My overalls are tied at my waist, and my black shirt is stretched across my aching muscles. Today was long and hard, and I regret not getting any sleep, but I couldn’t just go home. I’d be too worried about Alice, so I’m waiting for her class to end so we can eat and go together. The campus is quiet at this time of night, since her classes run late, and I relax in the peace and quiet until a shrill voice startles me.

“Oh my gosh, I love your car!”

Frowning, I blink at the short, pink-haired girl bouncing on her toes, standing way too close to me. She has a designer bag clutched in her hand, and her perfectly glossed lips curve into a smile. She’s cute, I guess, with curves most guys would die to touch, but only annoyance flares through me as her shrill voice comes again, making my aching head hurt worse. “Can I touch it?”

“No,” I warn with a deep frown.

“Oh.” She wilts for a moment before perking up despite my angry rejection. “Are you here to pick up your girlfriend?”

“No.” I shove my hands into my pockets, glaring at her so she gets the picture and steps away, but she just moves closer until her overwhelming perfume nearly makes me sneeze, fluttering her fake lashes like she’s trying to take off.

“Well, in that case, how about we go for a drive? I really like your car.”

“No,” I snap harshly.

“I wouldn’t,” comes a familiar, husky voice, and I jerk my head around to see Evan leaning on his board, grinning at me. “He’s an asshole.”

“Oh.” The girl looks between us and then smiles at Evan. “I don’t mind.”

Fuck, can this girl find any self-respect? She’s practically throwing herself at me despite the warnings to fuck off.

I sit taller, eyeing Evan despite the girl trying her hardest to get my attention. He looks tired, but he’s smiling. Why is he always smiling? I notice dimples in his cheeks as he directs his grin at the girl, and I don’t like that.

“Fuck off, rich boy,” I snap, drawing his gaze back to me, and his smile turns into a frown, which is better. He shouldn’t smile at people all the time, especially her.

“You’re much too cute for him,” he comments to her, winking. “Trust me, he isn’t worth the effort.”

“You don’t know a thing about me, rich boy,” I retort.

“No? You have a younger sister you love, you fight like a beast, and you like cars, especially yours. You think you’re better than everyone and hate anyone who comes from money. How am I doing?” He tilts his head, both of us glaring at each other.

“I only hate you, rich boy,” I say.

“Really? I feel so fucking special,” he sneers, stepping closer, and I push from my car, refusing to back down. He runs his eyes over me.

“Stop it,” I warn. “Stop fucking looking at me like that.”

“Like what?” he teases, his fucking dimpled smile back in place as a strand of his icy hair blows across his face. I have the insane urge to fist it and drag him closer.

“Like you want me,” I hiss. “It’s disgusting.”

“Trust me, asshole, if I wanted you, you would know it.” He grins. “I was just thinking black brings out the color of the asshole in your eyes and makes you look good.”

I blink, looking down. My shirt got stained at work, and I borrowed this. It’s too tight, and I never wear color. I instantly regret it. “Fuck off. Stop fucking with me.”

His tongue plays with his lip ring. “Can I touch your car?” he asks sweetly, fluttering his eyes as he glances up at me, and something about that look has my muscles tightening and my heart skipping a beat.

“You are the last person I would ever let touch my baby,” I growl.

“Your baby, huh?” He steps back, eyeing the car. “I can see the resemblance. Both are all souped up with no real drive.”

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