Coach rounds the corner, right as Renny runs his lips along the filter and shoves it in his mouth.
‘Mr Fernando,’ he booms. Renny groans in response and turns to face him.
‘What?’ He glowers with the cigarette hanging from his lips.
‘Take that shit off campus.’ Coach gestures toward Jace. ‘Brooks! Come and look at the run sheets before tryouts.’
Jace nods. ‘I’ll be right back,’ he says to us. ‘I’ve got a good feeling about tonight.’
Renny rolls his eyes and waits for Coach and Jace to disappear before turning back to us like nothing ever happened and lighting up.
‘Fuck Coach, man,’ he says as he takes a long drag before exhaling the smoke into the air above him. I scrunch my nose at the smell, but what bothers me more is wondering what’s driven him to kill his lungs like this.
We’re cutting across the quad when I spot Monique making a beeline for the textiles labs.
‘Monique!’ I call out. ‘Do you know where Gianna is?’
‘She’s in the art building again,’ Monique calls back. She diverts from her path, coming over with a knowing smile before she tacks on, ‘Alone.’
I like this girl.
I glance over at the guys, who both have the same smile. ‘Shut up.’
Renny lifts a shoulder, saying nothing as he grabs my backpack and keys. ‘I’ll take these. Go get your girl.’ His attention switches to Monique. ‘Minha Vermelhinha,’ he says under his breath.
‘What?’ She cocks her head, leaning in to hear.
‘Nothing.’ He smiles wide at her before looking back at me. ‘I’ve gotta head to the garage to see Pai. Catch ya tonight.’
Renny and Tyler head off, leaving me with Monz, who gives them a small wave.
‘What’s she doing in the art building?’ I ask. ‘She usually waits for us after practice.’
‘She’s making something for you guys to go with this.’ She winks and shoves a bunch of black fabric into my arms.
I unravel the pieces. ‘What’s Gianna making to go with a hoodie and track pants?’
Monique hums as she pops a shoulder. ‘While I go clean up the sewing lab … why don’t you go to the art room and find out?’
The biggest smile I’ve ever had stretches across my face. This is why Moniqueisa fucking good friend.
Chapter 9
Ryker
PRESENT
Empire City can’t make pizza for shit. Everyone raves about how their deep-dish pizza is to die for, and they’re right: you choke on those thick-ass pies before you even taste it. No pizza slice should need a knife and fork.
Booker Bay, on the other hand, has MDs. A slice you can fold and get a mouthful of topping with is what I’m about. That’s exactly what MDs is best at, and after doing the books at Luxe all night, my mouth is fucking watering for it.
For that, and a certain curly-haired street racer with a Mustang.
I speed along the bridge on my motorbike. Booker Bay’s lights get closer, bright in the night. I wind through several streets and the scent of melted cheese and wood-fired bread hits my senses as I reach MDs. Parking here is always a shitshow, even with a bike. They have a tiny car park with four bays that are always taken, and as tempting as parking on the doorstep is, I park across the town centre, removing my helmet and jacket.
A storm is rolling in, making me wish I’d brought the truck instead. My leather jacket helps with the cold, but it won’t stop the rain from feeling like fucking rocks onthe ride home. I slip it off for the moment, tossing it over my seat.
I need a nicotine hit. Pulling out a cigarette, I run the tip of my tongue along the filter, tasting the tobacco, before I take it between my lips and set it ablaze. I take a long pull, letting my tense insides unravel if only slightly. Smoke curls in the air.
