Page 47 of Breaking Away

“Lying? Don’t make me pinch you, Basra.”

“Blame that eye-sore of a leather jacket you always wore. Everyone else had on jerseys or hoodies except you.” Her hands move in the air. “Angstyeyes.Bad boytattoos. Never talking to anyone.” Her finger prods my jacket. “Shocking to see you in a suit today. Guessing that leather jacket finally fell apart. My apologies for not being devastated about that.”

“Mean.”

She clears her throat, something she’s been doing a lot around me. “The last time I saw you in a suit was prom. That night probably doesn’t stand out to you, I know.”

“You would know nothing.”

Kavi shivers. “Hey?—”

Before she can finish, Quinn interrupts us. “Car is ready.”

“Is your sister going?” Kavi asks him.

He shrugs. “If you can convince her.”

“I want to try.” She walks away, almost tripping before getting stable on her feet again. Not looking back, she heads straight for Quinn’s step-sister.

“You’re so screwed,” Quinn declares.

My eyes narrow. “Why?”

He points down.

It’s my hand. It had shot out, ready to catch her if she fell.

“Hockey reflexes,” I say, my tone completely flat. “Nothing more.”

18

KAVI

The club isin a tall nondescript building with blackout windows. The stretch limo pulls us up to a side entrance. While we pile out, I hear giggles around the corner. The escapades of drunk partiers, waiting in line, trying to get in through the front doors.

For us, the velvet rope parts. A security guard directs us to an elevator. On the top floor, suspended above the middle of the club, is a wrought iron platform. Put your hands on the railing and you can see bodies gyrating below, smoke machines putting in overtime, and a tiled dance floor glistening with what I hope is sparkling cleanliness.

The Wings bounce like squirrels around me. I haven’t known them long, but they are really goofy, sarcastic, and occasionally unhinged men. A team of freshly showered hockey players in suits letting loose after their win.

Lokhov stands out. The corner of his eyes strain, and the way his jaw muscles are working means he’s suffering. As if he doesn’t want to be here. As if everyone is a blight on his evening.

“How is it partying with us?” Matt asks me. “Better than the Blades?”

I know his name is Matt because the team officially introduced themselves to me in the box earlier. I give him a polite laugh.

On the rare occasions I’ve been out with Tyler’s team, I was so overwhelmingly conscious of how to speak, smile, and fit in. Meanwhile, he ran laps talking to other people, usually leaving me behind to wait until he needed a break to come back.

“Sorry. Not going to answer that.” I pretend my lips are a zipper being closed.

Matt gives me a wry grin, then makes room for Pink Headband to serve drinks. Before he gets to me, Sonya shows up. She opted out of the limo ride, choosing to drive herself separately. She grabs my hand and tugs me back downstairs so we canjoin the people.

We beeline for the bar. The bass is so loud it’s rumbling inside me. Others don’t seem to mind, bodies bouncing, hopping, and swaying to the crescendoing music. I’ve got to focus where to step, for at times it feels as if the ground is moving, instead of just everyone around us.

“Show me your moves,” Sonya yells.

I shake my head. “You go first.”

Her leg goesallthe way up. It’s a standing split… spin? The whole time, her face is so bored and blank that I can’t help but laugh. She’s the first and strangest ballerina I’ve ever met.

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