Kiss had this friend, McKelle. She was a biker girl snack. I hadn’t seen her in a couple of weeks. Not that she’d be looking for me. I was crushing hard on her. Not only was she slamming in the looks department, but this girl was super into sportbikes.
There was one issue. Like Kiss, McKelle dated a Heller. A friend of Romeo’s. I’d met him once. I didn’t linger long enough to find out if I’d like him or not. We weren’t going to be friends. He had the girl I wanted toget to know better. A lot better. Not gonna lie. She checked all the fucking boxes. Badass sense of humor, smoking hot, rode a super-fast bike, and smiled like she was genuinely happy to talk to me.
After I locked my helmet to my bike, I ran my fingers through my hair and scrubbed a hand down my face. I needed a haircut, but I needed gas in my tank more.
Heading into the building, nervous energy snapped in my gut. I’d been around girls, but none like McKelle. She was out of my league by a million miles.
Once I passed through the open reception area, I quietly made my way into the meeting, and our corner of the room where my sponsor peeps always clustered together.
When committing to sobriety, it was good to have someone to count on when the days got dark, when there was nothing to do about it, but a hit of something could make you forget. Not me. I was just going through the motions of court-ordered treatment. Brad, Georgia, and Kiss needed sober friends, and I needed them.
I’d met Brad at my first meeting. We bonded over bikes. He’d introduced me to Janie.Janie.Fuck addiction. Thinking about her hurt. She was cool. She was like a momma bear to all of us. I’d never really had anyone give a shit about me. She did. I missed her. We almost lost Georgia the same way. Sobriety couldn’t be taken for granted because relapsing was contagious.
“Everything okay?” Kiss whispered as I sat next to her.
I nodded. “I had to stop at the perv’s office.”
McKelle leaned forward. “Who’s the perv?”
What the fuck? I’d turned into a sixteen-year-old girl. My heart went from zero to sixty in two beats, anda hot intoxication flooded my veins. A nervous smile split my lips when I glanced at McKelle.
Kiss leaned into McKelle. “Ryatt’s probation officer likes to look at his dick.”
McKelle’s full, soft pink lips formed an O.
“Don’t make it sound like I show it to him.”
“Maybe he wants to see it because it’s impressive.” Georgia smirked and took a bite of a cookie. She and the refreshment table were best friends because she was always hungry.
Before she and Brad started dating, Georgia had been in a rough spot. Janie had been her lifeline. When Janie died, Georgia relapsed for a couple of weeks. But she was good now, and she wasn’t worried about where her next meal would come from because she was living with Brad.
“It’s not,” Brad snapped, referencing my dick.
“Have you seen it?” Georgia asked him with an arch in her brow.
“No.” I spoke a little too loudly and lowered my voice. “Can we talk about something besides my dick?” No one in present company had seen it before. Lately, my dick had only been acquainted with my hand.
“You don’t need to prove anything.” McKelle smiled at me and fuck me, the way her lips softened slipped warmly beneath my skin. “I’ve seen you ride. Total big dick energy.”
A rush of heat surged up my spine. Praise coming from McKelle was a potent shot to my ego. Just looking at her proved I had the crush of a boy who’d just hit puberty. My brain had an electric short circuit. Staring into her deep blueish-green eyes had my cock stretching, biting into the fly of my jeans. “I could say the same about you,” I said.
She rode fearlessly, becoming part of her bike. I could compare her to her ride. The pearl-white wrap resembled her platinum blonde hair. Sleek fairings made her motorcycle fast as fuck, while she was tight curves and femininity.
“Shh,” Kiss hissed. “You’re going to get us into trouble.”
We all quieted, and I was handed the collection basket. If I passed, I’d look broke. I was broke. But I didn’t want McKelle to know I couldn’t afford to throw a couple of bucks onto the pile. Donations were voluntary, but that’s how Ansel, the director, kept the community center’s drug treatment program going.
“I got us this time,” Kiss said and dropped a twenty in the basket. “Bullet has me cleaning his litterbox.”
McKelle chuckled. “Oh my god. I wish I had thought to say that when I was fighting with Cruz.”
“I’m lost,” I said. “Are you pet sitting?” I asked Kiss.
McKelle covered her mouth to stifle her laugh.
“I’ll tell you later,” Kiss said because Ansel welcomed the guest speaker to the front of the room.
“Are we going to lunch after the meeting?” Georgia whispered. “I don’t want to fill up on cookies if we’re going out to eat.” She stuffed another gingersnap into her mouth.
