Page 6 of Hard Ride

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“Mr.Prickles, I wassoright.”Ollie doled out a sprinkle of mealworms on top of his pet hedgehog’s dry kibble.Mr.Prickles lived in a cage that took up a disproportionate amount of space in Ollie’s converted van.He didn’t mind since the little guy was the closest thing he had to family.At least he had been until Ollie had joined the Hot Rides garage, inheriting a readymade team of friends in the process.

Still, Kyra had nailed it.He didn’t always feel like he totally belonged.Maybe because he was the only one not attached in the group.Earlier that evening, he’d imagined that might change.“Kyra tastes even better than she looks.I could have spent the entire night standing out there kissing her.If only that muscle-bound asshole hadn’t interrupted.Oh yeah, and punched me in the face.”

Mr.Prickles grabbed a mealworm between his paws and stared at Ollie as he munched its head off.

“Don’t look at me like that.I know Van is pretty cool otherwise.And I know I said I wasn’t going to kiss Kyra since he obviously likes her, but I couldn’t help it.”

Ollie reached into his fridge and took out a can of root beer.He wrapped it in a dishtowel, then held it to his throbbing face.Even that didn’t dull the memory of what had happened between him and Kyra.

So he explained to Mr.Prickles, “She’s fire when she performs and then she was there talking about love and romance and her eyes were big and so green and…hopeful.I couldn’t resist.”

Mr.Prickles shook his coat, then went back for another morsel.

“Yeah, Van is pissed at me now.So is Kyra.Even still, it was worth it.”Ollie toed off his sneakers, double checked the door locks, and put his reflective privacy screens in the windshield and side windows.Then he hopped up onto his platform bed.It was a few feet off the ground to make room for the storage bay beneath it, which he could access from the rear door of the van.

The king-sized mattress took up the entire back third of his home.It was huge for just him and didn’t do much to make him feel less lonely, but it was comfortable as fuck—one luxury he’d refused to sacrifice when he’d chosen to live on the road.

The low cost associated with van life allowed him to spend time doing shit he enjoyed instead of running the rat race.Maybe if his father had traveled a similar route, the man wouldn’t have keeled over of a heart attack in his penthouse office when Ollie was too young to even remember him.

His home might not be conventional, but it was his.And he could take it wherever life led him.Like the parking lot of concerts or to the Hot Rides garage or to salvage sites where he found the fascinating objects other people considered trash but he called treasure.

Restoring antiques to their former glory, bringing them back to life, gave him immense satisfaction and helped combat his anxiety about losing things—especially, people.

Maybe it was for the best that things hadn’t worked out with Kyra.

It had been a while since he’d allowed himself to get attached to someone.He was already in the danger zone because of his connections to the Hot Rides and Hot Rods gangs.But those relationships had thawed something in him and made him crave more, maybe something deeper.

What had originally seemed like freedom as he traversed the country, uncovering and preserving rare finds, while seeing new-to-him sights, was starting to feel a lot like isolation.Especially after he’d spent the summer camped at Hot Rides, hanging out with Quinn, Trevon, Devra, Wren, Jordan, Kason, and all of the Hot Rods mechanics, their wives, kids, and parents.

It wasn’t only the winter wind blowing him back toward the shop and the offer of a semi-permanent place to park his van.

The holidays were coming too quickly.

They were always rough for Ollie.

Without thinking, he rolled to the edge of the bed and opened the nearest drawer in his kitchenette, which ran the length of one wall from his bed to the van’s sliding door.Inside, a small package was wrapped in festive—if faded—paper.It had a few worn edges here and there, and he’d had to retape the seams a couple of times over the decades since he’d been given the gift.

As he did often, he speculated about what might be inside.

Before he could cave to curiosity and peek at the one corner where a tiny tear had formed recently, he slammed the drawer shut.

Just like he should close the door on whatever oopsy-tonguey had happened with Kyra earlier.

He hated to even consider the possibility, but she might only have done it to make Van jealous so he would finally pay attention to her.

He was an idiot.

Van might or might not have Kyra tonight.But even if he didn’t, he at least wasn’t relying on a hedgehog for company.He had the rest of the band, Kason, and any number of other people surrounding him.Ollie would gladly have traded a knee to the nuts for someone to talk to, or even another warm body nearby, just then.

He flopped onto his back, tapped the switch on the wall to extinguish the lights, and tried to pretend like he still enjoyed the deafening silence of the night, broken only by Mr.Pickles’ ridiculously loud crunching.Ollie adjusted his position so he could perch the cold can on his face better.It still hurt like hell.

“You think I should text her?”he asked his hedgehog, who quit eating for a moment, letting his stillness ring throughout the interior of the campervan.

“Yeah, you’re probably right.Goodnight, Mr.Prickles.”

Unfortunately, Mr.Prickles didn’t answer back.

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