I’ll have to call Maddox my boy-toy later. Knowing him though, he’ll probably just come harder than ever. The man loves to be bullied, and I love to dish the bullying out. I shift against my bike slightly at the thought.
Maddox’s voice enters the Bluetooth of my helmet. I watch as he quirks his head to the side and asks, “Do I even want to know what’s going through your head, Starburst?”
“Nope,” I say, popping the P. “Unless you want to kneel in front of all our friends and be called a good boy.”
Zander’s voice comes next. “Aye! I’m right here.”
I turn to look at him. “Yeah, you are. Do you want to be called a good boy too? It might make you feel better. You are in the bitch seat, after all.”
He raises one gloved hand, flipping me off. “Fuck you.” I don’t need him to take his helmet off to know that he is absolutely glaring at me.
“You wish,Big Boy,” I say mockingly, adding an exaggerated tone to Maddox’s nickname for him.
His tone shifts. “And what if I do?”
Maddox elbows Zander in the ribs, and I chuckle as Zander lets out a significantoof. “C’mon, man. You know I’m into that shit. Don’t give me a boner before the race. I’m trying to beat her this time.”
At that exact moment, I thank God that my helmet is covering my face. Because the blush that mars my face—paired with me biting my lip—would be a dead indicator of how much Idoactually want that.
It’s no surprise to me that Maddox has told Zander about our sharing preferences, and it doesn’t bother me in the slightest. It was a more recent bomb Maddox dropped on him, but he took it in stride. It’s the benefit of them being sandbox friends, after all.
But itisa surprise that Zander is cracking jokes about it. It makes me wonder if he has ever been interested. I shake the thought out of my head.
We always throw barbs at each other, but that’s all it’s ever been.
I definitely wouldn’t be mad if that was the case.
Zander groans, breaking me out of my thoughts. “I swear to God—if you get a boner while I am backpacking you, I am going to sue.”
I snort. “Why? It’s not like you two didn’t make out—with tongue—in college.”
Zander’s head whips toward Maddox. “You told her about that?!”
“He sure did,” I tease. “I heard there was even some grinding too. I wish I could have seen that.” And it is nothing short of the truth. While all three of us are as queer as could be, we all somehow ended up in hetero-presenting relationships. And while I love it… man, I love the sight of Maddox kissing another guy a little too much.
Even though I generally steal the men from him at some point during the night.
Zander’s voice sounds nervous. “Whatever. It was before you or Ashley were a thought at all. He was fair game.”
Ashley.
A sour mixture of guilt swarms in my stomach at the mention of her after just thinking about more than sexual things about Zander. Even if she wanted him happy.
God, I miss her.
Zander may have been Maddox’s sandbox friend, but Ashley was mine. There was once a time in our life that I had considered her a sister, and she even asked me to always watch over Zander and Kali if something had ever happened to her—to which I happily agreed, even though I gave her shit for thinking of the worst case scenario like she always did. We linked pinkies like we had since we were children and pinky promised on it.
And then the worst really did happen.
I look up at the sky, squinting at the sun beating down on us through my visor.
I don’t know if she’s looking down at us, and I really don’t know if she’s in heaven, hell, reincarnated as a damn plant, or simply in the grave. Hell, she could be the ghost stealing all of my left-footed socks.
But I do know I’m going to keep that damned pinky promise until I give my last breath.
“Babe,” Maddox’s voice says, cutting through my thoughts once again. “Sloane’s here. Picture time. Then I’m kicking your fucking ass.”
“Please tell me I don’t have to backpack while you two race,” Zander all but pleads.
