Page 80 of Race to Me

He shrugs, placing his warm, inked hand on my thigh. “I thought you were in trouble.”

With a shake of my head, I open the box and begin to eat. “Just a really bad dream.” I say simply.

“You know, I’m going to kill you for fucking up my door.” Kate threatens while she chews her food. She smiles, adding, “But thank you for breakfast.”

“I’ll fix it.” Foster promises, catching his breath. After a moment, he plants a kiss on my forehead while I’m enjoying the delicious crunch of hash browns.

“Did you ...” Kate begins, nervously biting her lip. “Did you see Ryder last night?”

“Yeah, what’s up?” he asks.

She shrugs, taking a sip of her drink. “He didn’t text me back all night.”

Foster smiles, knowing she’s worrying for nothing. I can tell by the way Ryder looks at her that he’s all about her. “He’s preparing.”

“For what?” I wonder.

“The race tomorrow.”

“Have you checked the weather?” I ask. “A tropical storm is coming in.”

Foster shrugs, unfazed. “It’ll be fine. Probably won’t even rain long.”

I doubt that; it’s definitely going to rain. But they can postpone, I’m sure.

Kate retreats to the restroom, and I follow her to brush my teeth. When I return alone to the room, Foster’s measuring the door frame. “Do you just carry that around with you?” I inquire about the measuring tape.

“Had one in my car,” he says with a grin, then his hard edges stiffen. “I didn’t know guys could stay in the dorms.”

“He’s not a guy, he’s Brett.” I joke, but the sentiment seems to annoy him.

Foster leans his broad shoulder against the door frame and wraps his hands around my waist to bring me in for a minty, fresh kiss. “Does he have a dick?”

“Wouldn’t know,” I say with a smile. “Seriously, he’s my best friend.”

“A pain in my ass.” he mutters.

I sigh. “I know you don’t get along, but maybe you could try? I mean, what happened was an accident.”

“Him running over my bike?” Foster sneers. “Hardly an accident. He was drinking and decided to drive.” He grips me a little tighter, and it makes my body tingle. “I beat his ass for that, but if I ever catch you in a car with him when he’s had even just one sip of alcohol, the past will repeat itself. Only way worse.”

I shake my head. “So, it’s not a jealousy thing?”

“What the fuck do I have to be jealous of?” he lies. I can tell when he’s lying because his scarred brow tilts upward above his left eye.

I slide closer to him, trying to ease his mind. “I promise you don’t have to worry about him; he’s just a friend. You’re my ...” I trail off, unsure what to say.

“Man,” Foster responds swiftly, cutting off any room for negotiation. “I’m your man.”

His words give me butterflies, as per usual, but is he worried to put a label on what we have? I don’t have much time to respond before Kate comes back into the room, her red curls bouncing with her happy steps. “Need me to do your hair for tonight?”

Foster kisses my cheek. “It’s your last big game. Are you excited?”

I look to Kate and nod with a grin. “Big curls, high pony!” I decide. “I’m excited, nervous, and nostalgic.” I reply to Foster.

“You’ll do great.” He plants another tantalizing kiss on my lips. “I’m running to the hardware store. Don’t worry; the door will be fixed by tonight.” Before he walks out, he turns to Kate, “I’m stealing her tonight.”

“No!”

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