Page 125 of Go Find Less

“I’ll be damned, it’s little Delmonico.” He leans forward, holding his hand out for a fist-bump, and I reach over Fitz, meeting his fingers with my own. “Sweet ride.” I smile up at him as my hand settles on Fitz’s thigh, using it for balance, but also serving as a reminder that I’m here with him. Any tension he’d shown a moment ago eases away.

“Thanks, Josh.” I nod my head toward the man next to me. “This is Fitz, he’s not racing tonight but if we can sneak into the center, that’d be great.” Josh pulls down his baseball hat, looking between the car and the entrance in front of us. His dark hair has always been long, but now it curls around his neck, already sweaty from the Texas heat, and it’s not even nine p.m.

“You and Pen kill me.” Josh shakes his head, leaning against the frame of the booth on his forearms. “I just let the rest of your crew in about half an hour ago.” His smile turns as he eyes the pair of us. “I take it you were otherwise occupied.”

Slimeball. Fitz’s knuckles on the steering wheel go white, but I tighten my grip on his thigh.

“Fuck off and let us in, Kimball,” I jeer, shaking my head back at him and nodding toward the entrance. A car behind us honks. “We’re holding up your line.”

“Yeah, yeah.” He snorts, and then waves us forward, holding a walkie-talkie up to his lips. “We got a blue MK coming up, they’re VIP, let them into the center when there’s a break.” Fitz doesn’t bother with goodbyes as he presses the gas, lurching us forward so fast I grip my seat.

“Jesus.”

“Jesus is right,” Fitz mutters, and then turns to look at me when we pull up to a man standing with his hand up. He flags the car behind us toward a different entrance.

“Is someone…jealous?” I lace my voice with as much incredulity as I can, but I can read his body language, clear as day.

He gives a dry, humorless laugh, shaking his head and letting his jaw tick. I put my fingers on his forearm, now mostly bare thanks to the shirt that Vic had lent him. It was the right size, but the white, lightly patterned fabric still pulled tight on his arms when he held them like this. It made his skin look tan, his biceps look amazing, and did all sorts of things to my insides. I’d had to stop myself from staring when he put it on after climbing off my bed, off of me, stumbling into the bathroom with about as much grace as I’d felt in my boneless body.

When we pull into the center of the arena a few moments later, my touch on Fitz seems to have eased some of his returned tension. He finds a spot next to a dually with a confederate flag flying in the back, grimacing and then looking at me. “Ok, not exactly the best representation of the people here,” I start, immediately on the defense. “But I promise, it’ll be fun!” His eyebrows knit together, and I poke at the lines above his nose. “Fun. Remember that word?”

“I’ll show you fun.” He leans forward, grabbing at my waist, at the corset securely around my midsection, and I smile against his lips.

A wolf whistle breaks us apart, and when I turn to look out his back window, Alex and Nolan are standing a foot from the bumper.

Alex can say she still dislikes Fitz all she wants, but I know she wants to see me happy - the smile on her face says as much, when I close his car door behind me and move to link my arm with hers. Nolan gives Fitz the obligatorysup, dude?head nod, and even though I roll my eyes at my best friend, it’s clear the vibe here has changed. Whatever they’d said to Fitz, whatever Fitz had said to them, had an impact.

“Where’s everyone else?” Fitz asks, clearly trying to ignore the spectators who have stopped to admire his car. Stroking his ego is 90% of the reason I told him to bring it. Stroking mine is the other ten.

“Brett and Penny are off getting drinks, Dylan and Carla went to get seats,” Alex says.

Fitz steps into place next to Nolan, behind Alex and I, as we push our way through the crowd at the center of the speedway. I take a deep breath, letting the familiar scents of popcorn and burned rubber pull me in. We’d been doing this for nearly half my life, but the first weekend of Drag and Brag still held magic very little else did in my life. Screeching tires, the buzz of a screaming crowd, it was like a recharge to my battery that left me grinning for days. Next to me, Alex glances back at Fitz before tightening her arm in mine. “Vic is already lined up,” Alex continues.

“Lined up?” Fitz’s voice holds the confusion I’d expected, and Alex smirks next to me, not answering as we make our way to the tunnel that leads below the track. Above our heads, two giant trucks with exposed engines barrel by, the crowd screaming as one narrowly beats the other. The tunnel around us shudders as they pass, and I see Fitz give the ceiling a wary look as we near the other end. His hand finds the small of my back, like he’s ready to jump on top of me at a moment’s notice.

“There they are.” Nolan points above our heads to the rest of the group, who are situated halfway up in the stands a few sections away. I stop, mid-step, when I see who’s seated on the other side of Carla.

“Look who we found.” She grins at me as I slide into the row in front of her, trailing after Fitz with Alex on my tail. She points to Kyle next to her, who is giving all of us a sheepish smile, eyes darting back and forth to his phone. Alex and I share a look before I sit, the metal of the bleachers blessedly not blazing against my thighs as Carla holds a drink between us. “Dr. Pepper for the happy couple?” I take the cup, noting the single straw as I look at Fitz, my eyebrows raised.

This man has had his mouth on my clit, but we have yet to share a drink.

He takes the drink from my hand, taking a long sip before offering it back to me. I lean over, taking a sip, batting my lashes up at him.

Behind us, Carla groans. “I take it back. Give me back the drink.”

I snort. “You don’t even like Dr. Pepper.” Setting the drink on the ground, Fitz turns, looking at my sister and her husband.

“Is this something you all do…often?” He gestures to the crowd around us. Arguably, this is not the scene one would expect to find our friend group in. The semi-pro baseball player and his doting wife; the happy college sweethearts that look like they just walked out of a day at the office (probably because they did); the new couple behind me, snuggled up; and me. And while I’m probably, appearance and attitude wise, the least likely suspect for “who’s idea was it to go to the drag race on a Friday night?” It was definitely me.

“I used to come here with my high school boyfriend,” Penny explains, tearing off a piece of her cotton candy and feeding it to Brett. “Piper tagged along a few too many times, became friends with the staff, and now they can’t get rid of her.” I lob a piece of the popcorn I’ve just stolen from Carla at Penny.

“We came here a lot in college.” Nolan’s voice is quiet, and I can tell he’s probably thinking of the same memories that I am: Friday nights cheering on Mickey and Vic from the stands and then turning around for a late Saturday morning baseball game to cheer on Nolan. “Now we usually just stay till the end of Vic’s race.” Fitz’s eyes widen, and he sits back to meet my gaze.

“Vic’s a badass,” I say with a shrug, taking a sip of our drink and turning back to watch two older model Chevy trucks face off, lurching forward as the light turns green on the side of the track.

We watch ten more races before they switch classes, and it’s only a few more before I see the familiar silver body and red stripes of the Fiat rounding the far corner.

“There he is!” Alex nearly screams, and I scratch at my ear. She shoves at my shoulder, but I’m too busy watching the way Kyle’s face has just lit up behind Fitz. I fumble my hand, trying to grab Alex’s leg, and when she catches my eye, I nod toward Kyle. Her eyes widen, and her brows shoot up. “Do you think?” I bite my lips, catching Fitz’s eye - he’s clearly had the same thought, because even my Marble Man is smirking.

---