14
Trent
With the chaosin our rearview, Drew and I drove to Gamble Speedway, old-school road trip style.
It was a complete blast from the past with me riding shotgun, hand on the gearstick, while Drew drove too fast. We stopped at a roadside diner for greasy fries and listened to old songs too loud.
When we drove onto the speedway, the entireGearSharkcrew was already there in full set-up mode.
“You ready for this?” I asked as Drew parked.
He gazed out across the speedway and smiled. “I really am.”
He seemed ready. Not an ounce of hesitation in the air.
“What about you, frat boy?” Drew asked, dimple making an appearance. “You ready to be married to a washed-up driver?”
“Washed-up?” I scoffed. Leaning in, I rubbed a hand over his scruff. “I prefer the term trophy husband.”
He laughed.
“I got you something,” I told him, reaching for the glove box.
“Pretty sure the blow job I got on the way here was enough.”
“Close your eyes,” I instructed.
“For real?”
“I went to a lot of trouble sneaking this in here, Mask. Close them.”
“Fine, fine,” Drew said, lashes fanning over his cheeks.
“No peeking,” I instructed, reaching inside to pull it out.
“What is it?” Dude was so impatient.
I put it in my palm and held it in front of him. “Okay, you can look.”
His eyes immediately flew wide and dropped to the item sitting on my hand.
His teeth flashed. “You already gave me one of these,” he said, palming the magic eight ball.
“Yeah, well, that one was homophobic. Thought we could use a new one.”
Drew laughed.
“Plus, this is a mini. You can put it in your pocket. If Emily asks you a question and you don’t know, you can?—”
“Ask the eight.” He finished, repeating what I’d told him the first time I gave him one of these.
“Try it out,” I encouraged.
Smiling, Drew closed his fingers around it and shook it up. “Will me and T be together forever?”
“Ooh, going right to the hard stuff.”
He turned it over so the little triangle inside floated to the surface. After reading what it said, he looked up.
