Page 10 of Revv

I already want another hit.

****

By the time the night starts bleeding out, most of the lot has cleared.

The music inside the garage is lower now, bass muffled through the black-painted walls instead of shaking the pavement. A few people linger near the bay doors, finishing drinks and dragging out goodbyes, but the chaos is thinning. Engines start one by one. Kickstands scrape up. Headlights cutting across the lot before swinging toward the street.

The air has cooled just enough to make the heat rolling off the bikes noticeable, all warm metal, rubber, and gasoline. Usually, that’s my cue to get the fuck out before the quiet gets too comfortable.

I swing a leg over my bike and settle onto the seat, gloves dangling from one hand, helmet resting against my thigh.

Across the lot, Bexley pulls Cece into a quick hug and says something that makes her laugh.

Really laugh,

Cece tips her head back, hair slipping over her shoulder, phone loose in one hand, and that sound hits me in the chest like it has any fucking right to.

Fuck me.

That laugh is goddamn hazardous.

Bex squeezes her arm once more, then cuts across the lot and climbs into Talon’s passenger seat, still leaning out long enough to wave. Cece lifts her phone back at her, some silent girl-code promise to text when she gets home.

Talon pulls out a second later, taillights washing red over the pavement, and Sayshen follows on his bike, engine loud as fuck because the man can’t leave anywhere without announcing it.

Then they’re gone and the lot goes quiet.

I stay on my bike, helmet hanging off one handlebar, pulling my gloves on slow like I’m leaving, but my eyes go right back to Cece.

She’s already moving toward her car by the time I get the second glove on.

Bare legs, fast steps, the cool ocean air rolls through the lot and makes her hurry without trying to look like she’s hurrying.

Adorable.

She reaches her car and fumbles with her keys for half a second before getting the door unlocked. Even alone in a half-empty parking lot, she’s got that little attitude in the way she stands, like she’s ready to argue with somebody just for breathing wrong.

Probably me.

Hopefully me.

Cece pulls the driver’s door open, tosses her phone onto the passenger seat, and slides behind the wheel. The dome light catches her face for one quick second and I pick up my helmet and slide it over my head.

She turns the key.

Click.

I pause.

She tries again.

Nothing.

My mouth starts to curve.

She goes still behind the wheel, and I can practically feel her trying not to look over at me.

Then she turns the key one more time.