Page 37 of Trading Paint
“Don’t act like you didn’t want to.” I mumbled standing against the wall beginning to truly regret the decision and creating as much space as I could.
“Did you like it?” she pressed, her voice was shy. I felt bad for about a half a second.
“It was fine, Chelsea.” I let out a sigh. “Listen, I need to pack for tomorrow so I’ll see you on Monday.” I told her throwing my bag on the bed to pack my clothes for Cottage Grove.
“Yeah, I need to go anyway.” She leaned in for a kiss once she was at the door.
I leaned over and kissed her chastely.
When she left, I fell back against the wall. I knew having sex with Chelsea was a bad idea. I just knew it.
Why couldn’t I just have Sway?
She was perfect but like everything else in my life, I wasn’t what she needed so I stayed away. She didn’t need someone that couldn’t commit to her.
Thinking of what she and Cooper were doing right now made my stomach churn. Being the nosy fucker I was, I called Cooper to see where he was.
“Hey, where are you?”
He chuckled, his voice whispered. “At my house, where are you?”
“Home,”
He was drunk judging by his tone and talking to adrunkCooper was about as easy as discussing politics with Spencer when he was drunk or sober. Damn near impossible to get a straight answer.
“Are you looking for Sway?” he finally asked when I hadn’t said anything.
Apparently, I’m not as sneaky as I thought.
“Is she with you?”
“Yeah, she’s sleeping right next to me.”
I punched the wall.
“You’re fixing that.” My dad yelled from down the hall. With a grueling 76-race schedule, he usually wasn’t home on Friday nights but the series had an off weekend.
Cooper laughed. “Is there something you need Riley?”
“Just tell her I’m leaving at five tomorrow morning.”
“Will do.”
I didn’t sleep well that night. Not only was I ashamed that I gave into Chelsea because I wanted Sway but I also hated to think that Cooper was with her right now. I needed to focus though. I had to keep my head clear for the race tonight. It was the Northwest Showdown Finals tonight and I knew I needed to be on my game. Cottage Grove was no Elma—the track was slick and fast. One mistake and the wall bit you hard.
“Did you tether the drag link?” Dad asked when I finished loading my car in the hauler that morning. It was early,way tooearly but this is what a local racers lifestyle was like on Saturday mornings.
“Yeah, yesterday,” I pulled hard on the new torsion bar I welded last night testing its resistance.
“What about your exhaust, did Charlie test it last night? The decibels need to be below ninety-five at Cottage Grove.”
“Yeah, it’s below that.” I told him closing the door to the hauler. He always made sure I had everything ready.
His eyes focused on the driveway and smiled. I turned to see what he was looking at after latching the door tightly and locking it.
Sway.
“Nice to see you among the living,” I muttered walking to the front of my truck before tossing some tie-downs in the bed.
