Page 19 of Fast

“That’s why you joined Star Arrows? You want to race because your parents hate it?”

I nod. “Yeah, pretty much. It’s the same reason why I keep playing hockey. Whether I go pro or I follow Ares and Atlas to their MotoGP team after high school, I’m not going to law school. It isn’t because I find law boring. I don’t want to work with my parents. Their law practice is their life, to the point thatthey have no time for me. I’ve pretty much been raised by hired staff because they were always at work. I see them so rarely that they’re like strangers. Chance’s dad feels more like a parent than my own dad. So why should I go out of my way to be a part of the very thing that they always put first?”

Zara considers my words. “I understand. After I graduate from high school, I want to move in with my dad. I want to see the world, be free. I love my mom. I know she thinks she’s doing the best she can to raise me right. But she’s too strict. Sometimes at home I feel like I can’t breathe.”

Fuck.

She isn’t just beautiful, she totally understands how I feel.

“Well then,” I smile. “What do you say we enjoy this party? I don’t know about you, but my parents would be horrified if they knew there’s underage drinking.”

Her pretty lips curl into a devilish smile. “I say fuck yeah. Let’s go do a shot and then let’s dance. Usually guys who are good at riding a bike are great dancers.”

“With you?” I wink. “I could dance all night.”

The air crackles with electricity as we look at each other. I take her hand in mine and lead her to the makeshift bar a few feet away from where Chance, Ares, and Atlas are deep in conversation with Kristy. Heather is by Atlas’s side, watching the other woman with jealous eyes every time she talks to Atlas.

“Cheers,” we bump our plastic shot glasses against each other before taking the shot.

“Let’s go dance.” She giggles.

Dancing with Zara is everything I thought it would be, and more. Our bodies move in perfect sync with the music; we get closer and closer with every passing second, and I can’t take my eyes off of her.

I don’t care that we just met. I want to get closer. I want to kiss her the same way Chance was doing a few minutes ago.

As if summoned by my own thoughts, my best friend joins us. The conversation with Kristy Black must be over, because Ares and Atlas are in line at the bar with Heather in tow.

Chance is dancing behind Zara, closer and closer with every beat of the song. I watch with a mixture of jealousy and excitement when his hands land on her hips.

Rather than pulling her to him and away from me, he advances, pressing her between us.

Zara turns her head to smile at him.

“Look behind Lev,” Chance says, loud enough to be heard over the music, but quiet enough that no one outside our bubble can hear him. “We have an audience.”

She rolls her eyes and I know it must be her ex.

I dance in a circular motion, so I can see too without being too obvious.

The asshole is sitting by the fire with the girl who rode behind him during the race in his lap.

He’s clutching a bottle of bourbon, taking long pulls from it and offering some to the girl every so often. He seems deep in conversation with her, but his beady eyes are zeroed in on Zara.

I’m glad she agreed to stay with us, because I don’t want him to catch her by herself. I wouldn’t trust that motherfucker not to try to finish the job we interrupted earlier at the racetrack.

“Do you want to go somewhere else?” I ask her, annoyed by Fox’s mere existence.

Zara shakes her head. “No. I haven’t done anything wrong. I came here with him and I would still be with him if he hadn’t shown me that he’s a violent piece of shit. I want to enjoy the party and I want to have fun. You two are fun.”

I smile. “I’m having fun too.”

She surrounds my neck with her arms, and I inhale her subtle floral scent, mixed with the smoke from the bonfires and a hintof sweat. The scent is intoxicating, and I place my hands on her waist, just above where Chance is still holding her.

“Do you know what would be even more fun?” she whispers. “If we could show him that I’ve already moved on.”

“How would we show him that?” I ask, too drunk on her scent and on the warmth of her body to think straight.

“Kiss me.” She demands.

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