But he’s laughing and so is Emmett and my chest feels like it mightburst.
My grin so wide, my lip literally splits open.
The taste of copper doesn’t even faze me as I swing Emmett in front of me, his lithe body spinning, his back slamming into the cab of our truck.
He’s breathless when my hands hit the metal on either side of him, stopping my momentum and boxing him in.
He’s smiling at me, small and crooked, as I jack open the truck.
I pause.
It’s just a moment. Just a breath of time where his panting rushes over my face.
A split second where my sight drops to his lips.
“You’re bleeding,” he whispers.
My smile grows, a wave of adrenaline taking over my chest just like it does when I race, and I’m overtaken by need.
The need to keep that smile on his face.
To kiss it and see if that would make it wider.
Instead, I flick my sight back to his.
“Go.”
His honey eyes widen a fraction before he clamors into the cab, my hands all but shoving him in with a laugh as I land on the seat beside him.
The truck roars to life and Emmett slides closer, jolting when the other door slams closed.
He’s so close that I have to reach between his knees to shift into first gear and it’s not until I bump his leg that he scoots all the way back. It’s not much distance but it’s enough that I don’t feel him when I get us out onto the street and shift to second.
“Drive faster, old man!”
“Holy shit,” I mutter, and glance passed Emmett to a squished Blu crammed into the passenger side door, Hatley’s body practically on top of hers. “Where did you come from?”
Laughter fills the cab and my chest, and I press harder on the pedal.
It’s not lost on me that there’s space between Hat and Emmett. That my best friend is respecting the lack of touch as best as he can with the four of us crammed into the cab.
And that Emmett chose to touch me, instead.
Chapter 22
Tristen
The rumble of morethan just the truck vibrates my ass and my adrenaline spikes all over again when I cut the engine and climb out.
Stadium lights flood the packed dirt track from the middle, washing us in white, and my smile grows. My stomach flips. My side is still warm from where Emmett was pressed against me.
He climbs out beside me and looks around with wide eyes, his blond hair shimmering white beneath the artificial light. It looks soft, and my fingers itch to run through it.
Shut up, Tristen.
Clearing my throat, I nod a greeting to a few people that pass. Ones I’ve ridden with, raced against. They eye Emmett, watching him take in the scene around him, and I find myself inching closer with a grit to my jaw.
“C’mon.” I lick my lips and tug at Em’s sleeve. “I’ll show you how to unload the bikes.”
