I kick a pebble near my foot. “Yeah, well, I’m sure it’ll cost a hell of a lot less to fix than to replace her seats.”
Is that a tiny smile I see before he folds his tongue, tapping the metal bar against his teeth? “You’re probably right.”
“Why are you here, Kade?”
He doesn’t look at me as he takes another hit. “Edge asked me to check on you.”
Fueled by shock and another bout of fury, I pop off the top of the spray can. “If he wanted to know, he should have done it himself. Besides, I don’t need to be checked up on. I can handle myself just fine.”
He barely nods. “I figured as much.”
I shake the can, the little metal ball inside bouncing off the sides.
Kade’s expression is impassive as he revs his engine and puts the car in gear. “Hey, Ninja. We should race.”
I don’t try to hide the grin spreading across my face. Flutters of excitement blossom in my chest at the idea of racing him. “Yeah, we should.”
He pulls out of the parking lot. I turn back to my bike and spray over the pink graffiti, mumbling all sorts of things that should never come out of a lady’s mouth. Good thing I’m not a lady. Even more in the mood to kick the shit out of something, I drive to the dojo a couple of blocks away and park under the tree at the far end of the parking lot.
“Hey, kiddo, I wasn’t expecting you today,” Uncle Trey says.
“Today’s a good day to let off steam.”
He nods. “Have at it. The place is yours until seven.”
Two hours later, sweat runs down the side of my face and my back. I take a short break before practicing with my favorite weapon, the bo. By the time I finish, I’m beyond exhausted to care about what Brielle did or why Edge had Kade check on me.
It’s almost seven when I leave the dojo. I tell my uncle bye as his next class prepares to start. The cool night air feels refreshing against my heated skin. The couple of lights in the parking lot are too dim to light up the spot where I parked. That wasn’t too smart on my part. A dark parking lot and a single lone girl equals a perfect setup for very bad things. The sky is clear with an almost full moon, so at least I have that going for me.
I put on my backpack, freeing my arms in case I need to defend myself. I know I’m being melodramatic. Nothing ever happens in this part of town. But fuck me if today hasn’t screwed with me enough.
I’m almost to my motorcycle when a figure steps out from behind the large oak.
“Isn’t it a little dangerous for you to be out here all by yourself?” Edge asks.
I take off my backpack and lay it by the wheel of my bike. “Like I told Kade, I can handle myself just fine.” I pull the band from my hair and put it on my wrist.
“I don’t doubt it for a second, but I’d still like to see you try.” His voice is low, menacing, challenging.
He steps toward me. The moon streaks his smooth face with pale light. The adrenaline from training still pumps hard through my veins, and the thrill of his challenge amps up my anticipation of giving him what he wants. That and the anger I still feel, more toward myself than him, have me wanting to kick his ass even more. He kissed me, I let him, and he went back tofuck Brielle. I have no claim over him, nor do I want one, but fuck if it still doesn’t make me want to drop-kick him, then beat the shit out of him. And who knows what involvement he had in having my bike vandalized.
He runs his hand through his hair.
Wanting to erase the way those hands touched me and the way his lips claimed mine, I busy myself with finding the ignition key. “What? Kade checking up on me wasn’t good enough for you?” I reach for my helmet. “I don’t know why you even care.” I sound like a jealous girlfriend, and it pisses me off even more.
He places his hand over mine. “I had to see for myself.”
Without effort, my eyes find his in the near darkness. A sea of torment and defiance swirls through my thoughts. The frustration and confusion on his face, the lust and carnal need simmering in his stormy eyes. It’s as if I’m staring in the mirror.
What the fuck is going on between us? I’ve had stupid crushes on guys. That feeling of giddiness when it builds, knowing you’re going to run into them in the hall, the jumble of nerves when they notice you staring, or the excitement mixed with tension when a friend tells you they heard “crush guy” likes you back.
Whatever is happening between Edge and me is on another level. A level so high I can no longer see the ground. I feel as though I’m floating and fading all at once. That’s the scary part—the slice of this infatuation. It’s dangerous for all parties involved. All the other stuff is kids’ play. The constant thoughts about him are messing with me.
By the way he’s studying me, he hates—or he’s confused by—this confliction, too. But it doesn’t seem like either of us can stop. I have no idea what his story is or why a collage of mistrust, resentment, and torment is painted on his beautiful face. I have a million reasons not to get involved with Ledger Hunt. Yet mybody goes rogue from all rational thought, and the desperation for him to touch me when he’s this close is almost unbearable.
I don’t look away as I straddle my motorcycle. “As you can see, I’m fine. So, why don’t you go stalk Brielle?”
A deafening silence lapses between us before he answers, and when he does, need and dominance weave through his hushed words. “She’s not the one I want.”
