Page 55 of Burnout
“Not yet, anyway.” She refocuses on the track.
I wonder what they’ve said that’s led her to believe Knox and I are sleeping together. What has Knox said? I also wonder just how well she knows Knox. Is she speaking from experience? Not that I doubt sleeping with Knox would loosen up a girl. If he’s half as good at sex as he is at acting like an annoying asshole, then I understand why he’s so cocky.
“He’s made some improvements though. Whatever you’re doing with him, it seems to be helping.” Something tells me that’s as close to a compliment as I’ll ever get from her. I guess if she wants to think it’s my magical vagina that’s helping him and not the training, so be it. Not the worst thing someone’s thought of me.
A woman in short black shorts and a red halter top walks onto the track holding a black and white checkered flag. Knox flips his visor down and leans forward, grasping the handles. His back tire spins and smoke plumes out behind him.
The girl lifts the flag above her head. Her body is insane. She’s curvy and not afraid to flaunt it, but something tells me none of the guys are noticing right now. Even without seeing Knox’s eyes, I know they’re laser-focused in front of him.
The moon is hidden behind the clouds. Tall sky lights shine down on each turn. None of them have all the bulbs, but it’s enough to make the black track visible in the night.
My heart races in anticipation. In one swift motion, the woman lowers the flag, and the three motorcycles take off. They speed by so fast it’s hard to keep track of them. Not that I really try to follow anyone except Knox. My entire body is coiled tight as I watch him lead the pack around once and then twice.
I can barely watch, but I can’t take my eyes off him either. He’s going so fast. One wrong move, one slip of his attention could be disastrous. My stomach is in knots and my pulse races along beside him.
On the last lap, Knox pulls slightly ahead, but the other two are right on his tail. They’re so close to him I’m not sure how they don’t crash.
On the final turn, my heart is in my throat. I stand. Brooklyn and Tate do too.
“You got this,” I hear Brooklyn say quietly to herself. “Punch it.”
Almost like he’s heard her, Knox’s bike seems to find another gear than the other two and he puts distance between them as he speeds past the finish line.
I let out a whoosh of air. Oh my god, he won. I jump and clutch Brooklyn’s arm. “He won!”
She eyes my hand.
“Sorry.” I let go quickly and she wears an amused smile.
Brooklyn cups her hands around her mouth and yells, “Nice job, Holland.”
Then she looks back at me. “Better go get your boy before someone else gives him his victory kiss.”
“Victory kiss?” Tate asks, then she says, “Oh,right. The victory kiss. Yeah, it’s not an official win until he’s made out with at least one girl after crossing the finish line.”
I don’t bother commenting on my thoughts about that. I do not want to think about Knox kissing other girls right now. I start for him as fast as my legs can carry me. He’s going around the track another time, slower now. I reach the edge of the finish line as he’s crossing it again. He turns his bike sharply to the side and as Brooklyn warned, he’s flocked with girls congratulating him as soon as he stops. Some guys too, but the girls are more insistent and standing closer than I’d like.
He takes it all in as he climbs off his bike and removes his helmet. Guys pat him on the back and girls press their tits into his arm. I stand back and let him soak it all up, even as I glower at the girls. Did they not see me ride in with him? I guess that’s not fair since we’re not a thing, but still. Basic decency. Keep your mitts off my…whatever Knox is to me.
He cuts through the group, acknowledging people but not stopping as he makes his way to me. His hair is wilder. So is his smile.
“Congratulations,” I say when he reaches me.
“Thanks, princess.”
I step forward and hug him. God, he smells good. Like leather and metal and sex. The really dirty, amazing kind of sex.
Brooklyn steps up beside me. “Nice ride. I wasn’t sure you were going to punch it in time.”
“You should never doubt me,” he tells her playfully.
“Right. Of course. The great Knox Holland.” She rolls her eyes and stalks off.
“She’s a bundle of sunshine,” I say wryly.
“She’s pretty cool once you get to know her.”
“So, uh, Brooklyn said something about it not being official until you’ve claimed your victory kiss.”
