#Rev (GearShark #2)(34)

I held up my hands and pushed off my car. “Just making conversation. Contrary to what your brother says, I’m not that bad.”

I walked around the Mustang toward the driver’s side. I wanted to get home and get to work. The driving had been awesome; now I just needed some grease under my fingernails and I’d feel back on track. Besides, the sky was looking a little gray and moody. I wanted to get some work in before rain ruined it all.

“He doesn’t talk bad about you,” Arrow said.

I glanced over the roof; I know I looked surprised.

He smirked. “At least not to me.”

I respected a guy who didn’t teach his little brother to disrespect other people.

“Shouldn’t you be in school?” I asked.

He rolled his eyes. “I’m almost twenty.”

A little older than I thought. I cocked my head to the side. “You not in college?”

He glanced away. “I don’t like school.”

Why did I feel like there was more to it than that? In fact, why did I suddenly feel like there was a lot more to Arrow than just bleach-blond hair and ill-fitting clothes?

“So you’re more like a free-range chicken.” I nodded.

“A what?” he echoed.

“You roam free. It’s what you do.” I finished.

He laughed. I think it was the first genuine laugh and maybe smile I’d seen from this kid.

“I don’t roam. I drive.”

I chuckled. “All right, kid.”

“I’m not a kid.” He half growled, the annoyance clear in his face. In fact, the way his eyes whipped up to me and flashed said a lot more than his words.

“All right, Arrow.” I put emphasis on his actual name. Seriously, though, was that his real name? “You doing anything right now? Wanna drive?”

“With you?” His voice took on a curious tone.

“Sure. How about a friendly race?”

“Friendly?” He scoffed.

I felt my face crack into a smile. “Yeah, as in we won’t run each other off the road and I won’t take your money when I leave you in my dust.”

Arrow sneered. “I’m not that easy to beat.”

“Why do you think I’m asking you to ride?” I lifted a brow. “No one likes an easy win.”

Truth was the kid—I mean Arrow—was a good driver. I wouldn’t necessarily say beating him would be easy, but I’d be surprised if I lost. He just needed some practice and a couple more years.

“Where?” He lifted his chin.

I grinned. “Your turf. You pick the road, and I’ll follow.”

He shrugged. “Yeah, okay.”

I smacked the top of my Mustang. “Oh, hey, not downtown.”

“Why?” He glanced over his shoulder curiously.

“‘Cause I’m supposed to be at work right now.”

“You a free-range chicken, too?” he cracked.

“Just on days I’m sick.” I made a bogus coughing sound.

He tossed back the long hair falling over the side of his head and laughed. “Let’s go.”

I followed him… Okay, I rode his ass a few miles away to what looked like an old airstrip that wasn’t used much anymore. There was a chain-link fence around the wide, open area, and as we drove closer, I could see the long tufts of brown grass that had grown up and since died between some of the cracks in the pavement.

There was an old, all-white pretty jenky control tower that looked more like a lighthouse perched down the strip, with windows all around the top.

Parked near the fencing in the overgrown grass were planes that were old and looked abandoned. They weren’t the big commercial planes; most of these looked like they were (or had been) privately owned.

On the far side of the strip were some metal buildings, all with rounded tops and huge doors that opened. Basically, they were barns for planes.

Arrow pulled up to the gate and got out. My car idled behind his as I watched him jog over where it was locked. For as abandoned as most of the place looked, the lock and security was state of the art. After he flipped up some kind of latch, he moved to a sleek-looking keypad and punched a few buttons.

Seconds later, the chain-link gate swung inward. Arrow made a motion for me to follow him before getting back into his car and driving through. After I followed, the gates swung closed behind my car.

Maybe this place wasn’t as unused as I assumed. If so, why would anyone bother with such a nice lock?

I followed him across the pavement toward one of the longest looking strips. He stopped at a white painted line (not faded and chipped, but freshly painted), so I did the same.

He didn’t bother to roll down his window; he just revved the engine.

I did the same.

We took off seconds later, and I opened her up, but like always, never going as hard or fast as I knew I could.

It was awesome.

We did a couple drag runs up and down the strip. I beat him every time.

The fourth time I beat him, he hit his brakes and fishtailed to an immediate stop. I was a little more delicate.

He slammed out of the car and glared at me. “Why the f*ck do I keep losing?”

I grinned. “You’re trying too hard.”

He cussed at me some more.

“You’re too worried about what I’m doing. Start putting all that energy into what you’re doing.”