Page 74 of Fast

Lev:

You’re going to look pretty no matter what you wear. Wear anything you feel comfortable in, it’ll be something casual.

“Men.” Heather rolls her eyes. “That doesn’t help at all. So he isn’t taking you to the Country Club. But casual can mean a lot of different things. Are you going to the movies or bungee jumping? That would make a huge difference in choosing an outfit.”

She’s right. “I’ll be fine. I think he would have told me if we were doing something that requires a specific kind of outfit.”

Heather sighs. “I just wish I didn’t have tryouts at five. I want to come to help you get ready.”

“It would have been fun, but don’t worry,” I reassure her. “I think I’ll go for something easy and flirty. A little dress, something I could dress up or down. I can send you a couple of pictures of my options, so you can weigh in if you have time?”

“That sounds awesome,” Heather beams. “You really like him, don’t you?”

I can’t help but smile. “Yeah. He’s hot and a little mysterious, but he’s always nice. He made me feel like I fit in immediately.”

Heather agrees. “Yeah, I don’t blame you. Lev is the epitome of dark and handsome and those green eyes are so hot,” she fans herself with a giggle. “And he isn’t an asshole, and he’s smarter than the average jock. He was one of the most popular guys at our school.”

I have no problem believing that. “Yeah, he’s really funny, too. And I like the way he always has his friends’ backs.”

Heather becomes suddenly serious. “You’re right. Just one word of advice, Zara. As you can imagine, Lev had his pick of girls in high school. And I can’t imagine things being much different here. He didn’t lead girls on, but he was never a relationship kind of guy. So, whatever you decide to do tonight, be careful. If you decide to hook up with him, make sure you two are on the same page about what you’re doing.”

She’s right.

I don’t want to get hurt. But I also don’t think Lev would set out to hurt me. “Thank you, Heather. You’re a good friend.”

“The best,” she winks at me. “Of course, I’ll expect a full report tomorrow morning. I’m so excited for you. But I have to admit that I’m surprised you like Lev.”

“Why is that?” I ask.

Heather shrugs. “I don’t know. I had the impression you like Chance. But I guess it makes sense that you wouldn’t want to go there. You’re family now. He’s practically your brother. It would be weird if you hooked up or dated.”

I open my mouth to tell her that the notion that anything romantic between Chance and I would be weird is what’s ridiculous. How is it that people don’t get it? We didn’t grow up together, and we didn’t even know our parents were dating until literally a week before the wedding. Our parents’ marriage doesn’t make us automatically siblings.

But at the last second I decide against saying anything. Heather has been awesome and I think we’re on our way to becoming good friends, but I don’t know if she can keep something like that to herself. Especially if she knew that Chance and I have already hooked up.

Scott was clear with Chance about his and Mom’s expectations when it comes to our relationship. I don’t want tocreate more chaos until Chance and I decide if we can be just friends.

LEV

I got a haircut, my car has been washed and detailed, and I even got one of those “new car scent” deodorants.

Not that my car is old or dirty, but I want it to be perfect for my date with Zara.

Truth be told, I’m sure she would have much preferred if I had picked her up on my Damon Hypersport Premier, but that’s impossible. When our mayor banned motorcycles within Star Cove’s city limits, the ban was extended to keeping one. Even without plates and registration, even without a fucking engine hypothetically, having a motorcycle in your garage would break the law.

I have no idea what the mayor did with his sons’ bikes; they were expensive models, made for racing. Some of them weren’t even street legal.

I couldn’t bring myself to sell, or scrap my Damon, so I put it in storage in Shell Cove. I thought I could go to our neighboring town if I wanted to ride it, but every time I thought about it, I ended up changing my mind.

Whenever I think about riding, the memory of Atlas’s bike skidding on the wet racetrack and crashing against a concrete wall plays in my mind like a fucked up movie trailer. The therapist my parents insisted I saw said it was PTSD, but it didn’t take a professional to work that out, so I quit going.

I exhale as I pull up in the wide, circular driveway of the Hunters’ house.

Fuck.

I didn’t want to be late, but I ended up being twenty minutes early. Maybe I should go home—I live three houses down fromChance—and come back at seven. Being early to a date feels like being the first to arrive at a party. Zara is going to think I’m a fucking loser.

With my mind made up, I turn the engine of my Porsche SUV back on, but I hesitate when the front door opens.

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