Page 31 of Race to Me

Envy is hanging on some random leather-clad man, and I’m trying to ignore Foster’s beat-up face as he talks to a group of guys in the far side of the room.

I remember the dryer. He may be being a dick, but I also don’t want him to be searching everywhere for his sheets since I cleaned his stupid room. Plus, I have to pee really bad.

After successfully escaping from Kate’s drunken clutches, I head to the bathroom, then I grab the warm sheets.

“What are you doing here?” Fosters venomous tone frightens me, and I whirl around with his freshly cleaned sheets in my hand.

“Um, so—” I didn’t think this would be his reaction to me being here. Or the first thing he said to me all night. I feel extremely foolish for this. He looks down at my hands, and I wonder why I even started cleaning his room in the first place.

“Are those my sheets?”

Since he’s close to me, I can really see the deep bruises adorning his cheekbone and eye. “Holy shit, Foster. Your face,” I deflect, but I’m also concerned.

Even through his anger, he can’t help but be charming. “That’s not the normal reaction I get, but okay.”

“The bruises ... what happened?”

“Fight,” he states, as if it isn’t obvious.

I search through the dim hallway lighting to get a better look. “With who?”

He stiffens. “Doesn’t matter.”

I bring my fingertip to touch his face, momentarily forgetting that I’m upset that he’s ignored me all night. “You’re hurt.”

“You should see the other guy.”

“Haha,” I say, rolling my eyes.

“No, seriously, he’s in the hospital.” He doesn’t grin for long. Foster’s strong jaw clenches, but I can tell it causes him pain.

I can’t help myself; I need to understand. “Why do you treat me good when we’re alone, but not in front of anyone else?”

“It’s all bad timing, Sky. You can’t get wrapped up in this.” He sighs. “You can’t get wrapped up in me. I’m not trying to be a dick.”

Foster almost continues, but a guy walks down the hallway. When he gets closer, I realize it’s the one with the red bike. Foster’s demeanor shifts; I can tell even in the dimly lit hallway. “This must be Freckles.”

“Skyler.” That isn’t me correcting him. It’s Foster.

“Nice to meet you.” I say, extending my hand to him. Without warning, he brings my knuckles to his lips.

“Callum,” he replies, and I can’t help but giggle at the way that Foster seems to be boiling over with anger.

Foster shakes his head and steps closer to me, towering over me as usual. “She’s busy.” His tone isn’t friendly, but his friend doesn’t seem to care.

“I wouldn’t call her Freckles,” Callum walks backward, retreating with his hands up. “Blue suits her better.” He looks to me and winks. “Your eyes are like the sky, Sky.”

Foster chucks a box of dryer sheets at him. “That’s fucking lame, dude.” But they laugh, and Callum disappears from sight. Foster leans his long body against mine, taking the now cool sheets from my hand.

“It’s time for you to go.”

I look around, scoffing. “I’m already here. Can’t you just enjoy that?” He smirks at my words but doesn’t budge.

“As I’ve told you before, it isn’t safe here.”

“Everyone’s been nice to me. What about your friend?” I gesture down the hallway.

His palm presses against the wall behind me, and our lips are a mere feather away. I’m reminded of the bridge, the smell of rain, our tree. His cold tone draws me from the warm memory. “Especially stay away from him.”

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