Page 58 of Finding Delaware

A breath gunshots from my lungs, hair sticking to my scalp with sweat.Hell.Yes.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” the announcer booms over the noise, “the Twins Of Terror!”

We circle each other before hopping off our bikes, and I whip my helmet off to grin broadly at the crowd.

Christian throws an arm around my shoulder, hazel eyes glittering as he jostles me. “We fucking did it!”

A wild, ecstatic laugh leaves my throat as we bow to the crowd. “Did you doubt me?!”

“Never. Not one damn minute, brother.”

My throat closes from emotion at the confidence in his voice, and my smile falters for a fraction of a second. But then I swallow and wave goodbye to the crowd before getting on my bike to head back into the tunnel under the stands. A tall, familiar feminine figure paces before a set of double doors, bright red hair pulled into French braids, a black hoodie withSTAFFwritten on the front hugging her thin frame.

“Strike a pose for the socials!” Salem hands me my sponsored snapback before raising her camera to get a picture, whether for the arena’s marketing page or my own; I’m not sure. Christian flexes his inked arms while I put my hat on backwards and stick my tongue between the V of my pointer and middle fingers in the universal sign for eating pussy, which causes Salem to snort as the flash goes off.

“Mature, Tay.” She shoots me a look of annoyance over the lens. “Now, a family-friendly one, please.”

I oblige, but only because our Quadruple Fuck You backflip move already gets us into trouble with the soccer moms in the crowd. We refuse to change it, though. That would go against everything the move represents, and the owners of the arena respect that, which is why they invited us back this year.

A group of attendants with matching hoodies to Salem’s come to wheel our bikes away for storage until tomorrownight, and we enter through the double doors while the sounds of the monster trucks still causing mayhem up above rumble the walls. The show will continue for at least another twenty to thirty minutes, but our part is done for the night, which honestly disappoints me a little because I’m fucking buzzing. Once the adrenaline wears off, I know I’ll crash, but I just want to ride this high for as long as I can.

“Did you get some kick-ass shots?” I ask as we head down a long hallway to the lounge. The noise from up above is lessened down here.

“I’d be a shitty marketing manager if I didn’t.” She rolls her gray eyes, the lights glinting off her septum piercing as she hits me with a gaze that shoutsduhand I grin before pulling her in for a noogie.

Christian’s boots slap the floor as he all but skips behind us. “Dude, I’m so amped up right now. That was fucking intense. I’m going to get so muchcoñotonight.”

“You’re gross!” Salem shoves him into the cinder block wall outside of the metal lounge door, and he grabs his chest dramatically.

“What? What I say?”

“You know I took Spanish in high school, right?”

A laugh bursts from my lips as I turn the handle. “I doubt old Senor Diaz back in school was teaching his students the Spanish word for–”

A small body hits my knees, causing me to trip into the door frame and wince when it presses against my collarbone.

“Uncle Tayto!”

Looking down into a set of big blue eyes and a toothy grin, my heart warms as I bend down to scoop up the little girl at my feet despite the pain.

“Hey, Hannah Banana.” I smile as her little fingers curl into the collar of my moto jacket, a pair of earmuffs still covering her messy brown hair to protect her from the engine noise. “Did you like the show?”

She nods her head erratically. “Yeah! It was loud. I had nachos.”

Christian steps up to pout at her. “What? Where’s mine?”

“They’re in my belly,” she giggles, reaching out to him for a hug, and I hand her off with a chuckle.

Stepping into the lounge, warm air from the heater hits my skin. It’s a cold winter day outside, but the exhilaration and my heavy gear keep the chill at bay.

Several large flat screens line the walls, and soft sectionals scatter about where members of the arena staff are sitting and chatting. There’s an entire wall of snacks, which I head toward, plus an espresso machine and soda fountain. Xed is leaning against the counter, his arms crossed over a leather jacket, as he watches Christian pretend to cry while Hannah laughs in his arms. A small smile plays on his pierced lips.

“No Valerie again, I take it?” I ask with a raised brow, ripping open a small bag of Cheetos.

Xed shakes his head, a blue strip of hair lining his scalp where a Mohawk used to be. “Nope. She’s, uh...” He glances at Hannah, who’s now in earshot. “She’s busy.”

Giving him a look, I say nothing as I munch on my snack. His lips thin, but he forces them into a smile as the little girlwho’s stolen all our hearts begins to chatter his ear off. Salem’s sad eyes meet mine, and we share a silent conversation.

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