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“Yeah.” I bite my bottom lip, relaxing slightly. “You do.”
His damp hair falls against my face. “Sorry,” he whispers, for what I had no idea.
Maybe because I didn’t have an orgasm?
Leaning his forehead against mine, he admits, “That wasn’t exactly what I—”
“Tiller!” Ricky yells. Tiller’s bike’s now at the end of the trailer running. “Come on, man! You’re up! Get the fuck out here!”
“Impatient fuck.” He glances over his shoulder again. “I’m coming!”
Moving back, he shifts away completely and yanks his jersey on. His eyes move to mine, before looking away.
“I’ll be back.” He leans in, his lips pressing to my forehead, staying there for what seems like forever. When he pulls back, his eyes fixate on mine. “Stay with me tonight?”
I nod, and he stands there staring at me for a moment, the rush of everything sinking in.
The air changes, and I feel it. It’s in the confused expression of his brows and the way he runs his hand over the back of his neck. He hesitates, as if he can’t decide if he wants to say something else to me.
That’s when he turns to me and says,“You’re mine.”
I know I am.
Rolling up to the launch zone, Tiller revs his bike, drawing my attention toward him. I’m on the sidelines with the mechanics and fans. My eyes seek his, hidden behind mirrored purple goggles. He nods, my smile can’t be helped, and neither can the warmth of my cheeks.
I watch his run, alongside those same women who were hanging on him. As Seether’s “Betray and Degrade” blares into the night, effortlessly, Tiller flies through the air, soaring high above me. The women, they stare at me, whispering to one another and all I can think about is leaning over and saying, “Hey, I have his cum dripping down my leg. How’s that for possession!”
Ew. Gross, Amberly. So gross.
It’s during his run, with every trick he throws, from the 360 flare, to the double backflip and the superman, he looks back at meeverysingle time. After his run,he skids to a stop in front of me, his back tire off the ground in a front endo that has him sliding forward on the seat suggestively, slowly, on purpose. He pushes up against the fence, his eyes hidden behind his goggles. Slowly, his back tire hits the dirt and he revs the bike, pushing up against the foam barrier separating us. The barrier hits my hips, a reminder of where he was just moments ago.
Laughing, I shake my head, marked with the memory of everything he is to me. “You’re crazy,” I mouth, my words lost in the roar around us.
He gives me a head nod, then blips the throttle with a flick of his wrist and wheelies away from the wall.
One of the women near me leans in, watching Tiller ride away. “Are you with him?”
My pulse thunders in my chest. I look over at her, unsure how to answer, but I nod. “Yes.”
It’s in his arms that night, again, where he finally gives a piece of himself I didn’t know he’d give. It’s whispered under his breath as he’s pinning me to the wall in his room. “I’m nevernotthinking of you.”
Sometimes you don’t need three words. You need strong arms to hold your fears and messy love that doesn’t make sense to anyone but you.
It’s late when I pry my eyes open. Since we didn’t go to bed until the early hours of the morning, I’m not surprised to see it’s already eleven thirty.
Immediately I think of River and want to check on her since she wasn’t feeling well last night. I hate it when babies are sick.
I leave Tiller sleeping on his stomach, his arms tucked underneath his head, snoring, and make my way downstairs. I can hear voices in the distance that sound similar to Scarlet. It’s when I reach the bottom of the stairs and get a peek into the living room where River is standing at the coffee table, my heart drops to my feet.
“River, no!” I scream, hoping she drops what’s in her hand. A razor blade. In front of her, lines of cocaine.
River drops the blade on the table. It makes a clinging sound, and she instantly bursts into tears.
Rushing to her side, I stumble over people sleeping on the ground and lunge at her. “No, no, you’re fine. I’m so sorry! You’re okay. I just. . . you can’t play with that. It’s sharp.”
The door closes, and Scarlet finally appears, holding a gallon of milk. She looks to me, then River with panic. “What’s going on?”
“Where were you?” I shout, picking River up off the floor. I look at her face, hoping she doesn’t have any cuts or worse, cocaine on her. She had been tracing the white substance on the table, but surely she didn’t taste it, right?