“Coach said he wanted as many volunteers as possible,” Brody groans. “I’ll do it. But only if Cam does too.”
“Fuck you bringing me into this for?” I sneer.
“He already hates you, Cam. And he isn’t any of our biggest fans,” Link says, dragging a hand over his face. “We have to do this, or he’ll be an even bigger dick than he is now.”
“Fuck,” I mutter.
“Come on. It’ll be fun.” Layla nudges me. “I’ll help you. I know Henley is taking point on this, and from what I gathered at swim practice this morning, there’s already a ton of girls helping with it. I’ll make sure she parks next to you so I can help you too.”
“What the fuck is this theme shit we’re supposed to do?” I scratch my head. “Like a movie or some shit?”
“It can be anything,” she says. “Henley mentioned something about the swim team doing The Little Mermaid theme. I thought she meant they were just going in costumes. Now, I know it’s a whole trunk and everything.”
“Swimmers and mermaids. How original,” I deadpan before rubbing the top of her red hair. “Seriously, why wouldn’t you be Ariel though? You already look like her with your fire hair.”
“Rude,” she mutters. “PSA: redheads don’t want to be called fire hair.”
“Sorry.” I shrug before turning toward Brody. “If the swim team is doing a mermaid theme, that means you should do Frozen. You can be the blonde chick, and Link can be the brunette.”
“Dude, I know what Frozen is because I have a niece. Why the fuck do you know about it?” Link says, narrowing his eyes.
“I have a sister. Asshole.”
“Yeah, a really fucking hot one, who I doubt watches Frozen.” Link shakes his head. “Who also races cars and looks like a sexy, dirty angel.”
“Hey, brother, you want to eat that burger they are about to bring out to you?” I ask him.
“Yeah. Why?”
“Mention my sister and the word sexy or dirty in the same sentence again, and you’ll have no teeth to enjoy it with.” I hold my gaze on his. “In fact, you’ll be eating your teeth for dinner instead when I ram them down your throat.”
“My bad,” he says nonchalantly.
“Damn right it was your bad,” I agree.
My sister, Mila, is the golden child. She followed in our dad’s footsteps, dominating the world of drag racing. I did it for fun, but never took it as seriously as she did. It was hard to when hockey became my life at age seven.
Drag racing might be a part of my bloodline, but at times, I curse it. It became a lot grimmer to me when my father was racing his best friend, and my dad’s car caught on fire, making him hit a wall, taking his best friend, Dusty, out in the process. That day changed my entire life. For a while, I even lost my best friend, Beau Bishop. He couldn’t stand to be around any of my family for years.
That’s not to say I’m not proud of my sister for chasing her dream of racing. I am. She’s paving the way for future female drivers in a male-dominated sport. And she’s done it while also being a full-time college student. Attending college in hopes of one day owning and operating her own shop, building race car engines. She’s a badass. And way fucking cooler than I ever thought of being. But I still worry about her. I can’t help it.
Dane Wade strolls through the door, and Layla’s entire face lights up as she pushes Link out of the way to get to him.
“Dane!” she squeals, leaping into his arms. “How are you even here right now?”
“Had an early morning practice,” he says, kissing her. “Now, I’m here.”
She grips his face. “You’re too freaking adorable right now. Rolling up in here to surprise me.”
“Missed my girl.” He grins before his eyes find mine. He looks amused. “What’s up, Hardy? Keeping your grubby hands off my girl and to yourself, I hope.”
“Keeping ’em off your girl. But sure as hell ain’t keeping them to myself.” I tip my chin up. “That shit gets boring.”
He chuckles before setting her down onto her feet. “Hey, as long as they aren’t on this girl, do whatever the fuck you want with ’em, brother.”
Not long ago, he hated me. So did his twin brother, Weston. Now, we’re all good. Weston’s girl, Henley, still likes to pretend to be disgusted by me, but I know she really isn’t. She’s just a tough chick.
I look at my phone and take some money out, tossing it on the table. “Look, y’all, I gotta run. That’ll cover my bill and tip.”
Brody stands, letting me slide out of the booth.
“Where you off to, playboy?” Layla coos, unable to take her hands off Dane. “Going to see a secret little lady, are you?” She attempts to wink but fails.
“You trying to wink, Lay-Lay?” I shake my head. “Because you’re closing both eyes.”
“She can’t wink for shit.” Dane grins and kisses her forehead. When she scowls and swats his stomach, he laughs. “It’s adorable, babe.”
“Catch ya later.” I hold my hand up as I push the door open. “Y’all stay out of trouble.”
“No promises!” Layla calls behind me.
I don’t want what she and Dane have. At least, I don’t think I do. But it’s only a matter of time before Layla moves down to Florida East University to be with him full-time and I’m going to lose her. And even though I have Link and Brody and my other teammates, Layla is basically my shrink. She’s like a girl version of me. We need each other.
As I head to the truck, I pull my phone out to return my dad’s call.
“What’s up, old man?” I grin against the phone. “Sorry. I was getting dinner, and it was loud as hell. Figured I’d call ya back in the truck.”
“Who are you callin’ old?” my dad grunts. “I’m fresh as a fucking daisy.”
“Sure you are.”
“Yeah, yeah,” he says. “What’s new with you, boy? How’s hockey and school?” There’s a short pause, but I can predict what’s going to come next. “Any girlfriend yet?”
“Hockey is fine. School is … well, it’s school. You know I’ve never been big on the whole learning shit.”
“And a girl? Don’t leave me hangin’.” He sounds hopeful.
My dad and my mom got together when they were young. He hates the fact that I don’t really date anyone long-term. I’ve always said I’ll never get married and that I don’t want kids. Truthfully, I don’t think I’d be a good husband or dad. Shit scares the piss out of me.
“Nah, not really.” I open my truck door and climb in. Pulling my ball cap off, I toss it onto the dashboard. “Ain’t really got time for that anyway.”
“There’s always time for that,” he says, keeping his voice low. “You talk to Mi lately?”
He always calls my sister, Mila, Mi. I suppose I do, too, most of the time. Since my dad used to be big into drag racing and Mila followed in his footsteps, she’s definitely a daddy’s girl. They’re like two peas in a pod.