‘You’re nervous,’ Ryker observes correctly, resting his elbow on the centre console, hiding a smirk behind his fingers as he leans his chin on his palm.
‘I just … need to warn you.’ My cheeks grow hot. ‘I’ve only backed out the Mustang from the driveway once. Years ago. And Pa made sure I never did it ever again, with good reason.’
He nods once. ‘I know why the mailbox is crooked,’ he says. ‘The ’stang is a manual, so you already know about sticks, right?’
My pulse hammers. Everything feels too hot and the air may as well be engine oil. ‘I understand it in theory.’
A laugh pours from his mouth, dousing my worries. ‘Good. Right now, the stick is in neutral.’ I glance down at the gearstick between us, the knob vibrating as the truck idles.
‘The turns aren’t tight and there’s a decent straight.’ Ryker points ahead of us. ‘You could probably change up to third gear, but only if you want to. If the clutch goes in, you’re off the accelerator. Clutch off, accelerator on. Got it?’
Yes.
No.
God, who on earth created manual vehicles?
I nod, and my hands tightly grip the wheel. This truck is huge. My body takes up as much space as a single Razzle inside its package. Focusing ahead, the dirt track is a large loop with some patchy green grass in the centre. I put the clutch in and press on the brake before moving to first gear.
‘Great,’ Ryker says. ‘Now, slowly release the clutch and give it just a little gas.’
I hate this. I really do.
Focusing on my feet, I let pressure off the clutch and press down on the accelerator, but the truck shudders before the engine is killed. I groan.
‘Gianna.’ Ryker places a hand on my thigh, and all of a sudden my body is searing hot for a completely different reason. He gives me a reassuring squeeze. ‘Relax, and a bit slower off the clutch this time. Eyes up.’ His fingers tilt my chin upward. ‘There’s no rush.’
I peek up at him through my lashes. He’s lying. The clock says it’s 10.37 am, and he said security would take fifteen minutes. But I take a deep breath and release it through puffed cheeks. Relaxing my grip, I repeat the movements once more, pressing down on the accelerator while releasing the clutch.
‘Slowly,’ he reminds me. ‘Make her purr, not scream. That’s for later.’ He gives a wicked smile that send shivers running up my spine.
He means the car … right?
I give it a little more gas before slowly releasing the clutch completely. The truck bunnyhops once then eases forward, the dirt crunching beneath us. I think the engine’s going to cut out again, but it doesn’t. We move forward. My heart hammers and I release some of the tension in my shoulders, guiding the truck to the speedway track. We’re a while away from our first turn, so I go for more speed, hearing the tyres kick up rocks.
‘Now, clutch in, and change to second,’ Ryker says.
I follow his instructions perfectly.
‘I did it!’ I squeal. ‘Holy shit, I’m driving!’
The engine rumbles and vibrates underneath my thighs and I upshift to third on the straight.
Ryker smacks his hands together in a solid clap. ‘Yeah, you got it, Little Suspect.’
I breathe, taking my right foot off the accelerator and applying a bit of brake. Putting the clutch in, I move backdown a gear. It crunches a few times, but then the gear sticks and I roll through the turn. Ryker stays silent as I veer back onto the straight and methodically change up a gear. My chest puffs and I throw him a smile, seeing he’s already smiling at me.
He straightens and kisses his fingers. ‘Voilà!’
From the corner of my eye, I see Ryker bring a stick of gum to his lips, using his teeth to remove the wrapper. He offers me a piece and I poke my tongue out at him, showing my Razzle gum.
‘Of course. Always yellow,’ he says with a playful smirk.
I shoot a quick glance his way. He’s folding the gum wrapper in on itself. His corded forearms flex with the movement.
‘You know, everyone is really going to miss you guys,’ I say. ‘When you graduate, I mean. There might be a few less trophies in the hallways.’
I don’t think I’ve ever missed a game since Jace and Ryker started playing in freshman year of high school, which is how they met Renny. I don’t care much for basketball itself, but there’s something about watching the three of them all work together to make something great. They all move and predict where each other is; it’s a special connection. Ty even comes and watches if he doesn’t have ice hockey on.
