Page 38 of Trading Paint
Yeah, so I was a little harsh and slightly annoyed. Sue me. I threw my bag inside the truck with a grunt.
Sway smirked kicking my ass with her foot, her flip-flop falling as she did so.
“Shut up asshole.” She reached down to put her shoe back on. “I’m here aren’t I?”
“Yeah, twenty minutes late.”
“It’s better than my usual thirty. I’d say I’m making progress.”
Spencer walked up with Alley and handed us a bag of food mom made.
Sway sensed I was angry and cornered me between my truck and the hauler within the shadows of the maple tree.
“Sorry, I over slept. You’d think since you finally got some last night, you’d be in a better mood.” She countered glaring at me but peeking into the bag of food.
“What are you talking about?” I leaned in and whispered in her ear not wanting everyone else to hear.
“You didn’t think you could sleep withChelsea Adamsand her not tell me, did you?”
“I uh...what...did she say?”
Sway handed me her phone and replayed the message Chelsea left her after leaving my house last night.
“We finally had sex! It was amazing Sway and he told me he loved me afterward.”
“What the fuck is she talking about?” I barked causing Alley and Spencer to glance over at us.
I’d never told any woman I loved them aside from my mom.
“You tell me.” Sway smirked. “You in love Riley?” her eyebrows waggled.
“Fuck no...she’sout of her goddamn mind. Ineversaid that,” I hip-checked her knocking her sideways and turned to Spencer. “Get in.”
“Don’t shoot the messenger!” Sway teased tickling my side as she climbed over me to get to the passenger seat.
“You know there’s a passenger side door.” I told her when her foot was in my face. “It’s easier.”
“No it’s not.” She turned back to look at me. “How else would I annoy you?”
“Good point.”
Once we got on the road, the fight for who controlled the music was on.
“I’m not listening to this shit.” She told me giving me the “hell no” look she had.
“Like hell you’re not. It’s my truck. Driver picks the music.”
The four and half-hour drive to Cottage Grove was spent testing out the new speakers in my truck and Sway and I arguing about which Pearl Jam album was the best. The same shit we did each weekend. Her arguments ended when I did my best impression of Eddie Vedder singingBlack. I knew how to make her speechless.
Once we were at the track, it was my turn to be speechless at how shitty things got and how it happened.
After the first heat race, Spencer found me back at our pit.
“Did you hear me? What’s your temp at?” He panted heavily, his brow drenched in sweat. Tommy stood close beside him checking tire wear.
“I heard you. I was ignoring you.” I told him pulling my helmet off. “Why are you all wet?”
He shrugged and I had a feeling I didn’t want to know.
