Page 47 of Racing Hearts

TWENTY-FOUR

Evan is quiet, too quiet. I know why, and I feel like shit, but I don’t know how to change it. Words aren’t my strong suit. Instead, I turn the wheel.

“Where are we going?” he mumbles. He looks tired and has bags under his eyes, but it’s his frown I hate most.

“I’m guessing you haven’t eaten, so I’m going to take you on a breakfast date,” I admit gruffly. It’s all I can do to look after him.

“Oh,” is all he says, and I hate that most. Evan is many things, but quiet isn’t one of them, not unless something is bothering him.

Everything had been going so well. We were having fun and growing closer, and last night over the phone . . . yeah, I was hoping to explore that further, but right now, I need his frown to turn into a smile. I need my sunshine back.

I park on Main Street and get out, opening his door for him. I block his head as he exits, so he doesn’t hit it, and once we’re on the sidewalk, I put my hand in my pocket to stop myself from reaching for him. There aren’t many people around at this time, but I’m worried he’ll reject me, and I don’t think I could handle that.

The diner we met at for the first time is open, and I push inside, holding the door for him. I wave at a tired waitress and head to a booth, letting him slide in first, then I slide in opposite, locking my feet around his under the table. It’s a small touch, but I need it to know he doesn’t hate me.

He doesn’t pull away, which is a good sign, but he’s quiet, and I’m unsure how to fill the silence. Usually, he handles the conversations and I listen, but today is different. Luckily, I’m saved by the waitress. “Orange juice and omelet please, cheese and spinach.” I look at Evan. “Rich boy?”

He jerks, blinks, and smiles softly at the waitress. I watch her smile back automatically. She can’t help it, and I hate it. Jealousy fills me, even though she’s easily his mom’s age. “Could I get an apple juice and pancakes please?”

“Sure thing, sweetie. Anything else? Maybe some fruit?” she offers kindly, not even sparing me a glance.

“Fruit would be great, thank you so much.” His smile brightens, and I watch her cheeks tint as she hurries away to put in his order.

His smile drops after, and he glances out of the window. “Evan.” I wait for his eyes to drift to me, and I reach for his hand but then stop when the door opens, admitting four college girls. They glance our way and giggle before heading to another booth. Swallowing, I pull my hand back, and he watches me, a knowing sort of bitterness in his gaze. I hate that I put it there.

I’m not even surprised when the waitress comes back and places a huge bowl of fruit in front of him with the yogurt next to it. “On the house, cutie.” She winks and dashes away.

He picks at his fruit as I watch him. “Eat,” I command. Rolling his eyes, he stabs a strawberry harder than necessary and shoves it into his mouth, chewing dramatically.

“You’re such a brat,” I mutter, and he flinches, dropping his eyes to the table. “Shit, rich boy, I’m sorry.” I rub my face. “About everything, okay? That guy took me by surprise and I panicked. I really am sorry.”

He nods, picking at his fruit, but he still seems sad. I’d carve out my heart right now and hand it over if it would get rid of that look. Evan’s face is made for smiling, not frowning.

“How about you come with me to a race tonight?” I lean over and take his hand, uncaring who is watching. “I’ve never taken anyone before, but I want you there.”

His head lifts, his eyes brightening. “Really?”

“Really.” I nod. “So . . . you want to come?”

The smile he bestows upon me makes me feel like a fucking king. If that little gesture can make him happy, I truly am an asshole. He doesn’t ask for anything, and I hate that I keep hurting him. I’ll try to make him happy from now on so he never has to look so sad again. “I’d love to.”

“Good.” I steal a strawberry and then grab another, feeding it to him. “It’s a date.”

Today was long, but I’m excited to see Evan. He was happier during our breakfast date, and I hated leaving him at his dorm, but we both needed sleep. He texted me throughout the day, though, and he seems fine now, which is a relief. I’m excited to show him a different side of me tonight.

I wait for him after his classes, and he hurries over, sliding into my passenger seat. “Is my outfit okay?” he asks, almost bouncing in his seat. “I’ve never been street racing.”

I look him over, desire spiraling through me. My boy always looks good, but tonight he looks extra fine. He’s wearing black cargo pants with white graffiti print over them, a white tank, and a loose shirt over the top. “You look hot,” I murmur, “but you might be cold.” I grab my leather jacket from the back seat, the one Alice bought me and I’ve worn ever since, and hand it over. “Here, wear that too.”

He blinks, his grin growing as he slips it on, and I watch as he buries his nose in the leather.

“You smelling me, rich boy?” I tease.

His eyes twinkle as they look at me. “Hmm.” He nods. “You smell delicious.”

Coughing, I focus on pulling away without crashing as he chuckles. I take us to my garage, and once there, I get out. When he rounds the car, I swear I stumble. My jacket looks so fucking good on him. The sleeves are slightly too long, and it’s baggy, but it works, and seeing it has feelings of possessiveness and satisfaction rolling through me. I can’t stop myself from backing him into my car, gripping his chin, and kissing him swiftly.

“What was that for?” he asks, grinning.

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