Page 12 of Loving Ohio (State of Us)
Chapter Eleven
Christian
“ D on’t die, carino . I'd have to replace you with Logan.”
The crowd's cheers vibrate my chest, a live wire of energy that feeds into the hum of my bike beneath me.
The stands are packed, a sea of rainbow flags waving under the floodlights, a kaleidoscope of color and noise.
Burned rubber and adrenaline fill the air, the mix of both an aphrodisiac to my senses.
Taylor scoffs at my words, adjusting his gloves arrogantly like he's never wiped out mid-stunt in front of hundreds of people.
Spoiler alert—he definitely fucking has.
“You wouldn't last ten seconds with Logan as your best friend, asshole,” he mutters. I grin as my reflection in his visor catches my eye.
Pride stickers cover every inch of our helmets—flags, slogans, and one obnoxiously large rainbow heart smack in the center of my forehead.
We even have Pride flags tied to our jackets as capes like Evil fucking Knievel.
We’re a goddamn rolling parade, and the crowd is eating it up.
“Jealous I might like him more than you?” I grin, even though he can't see my face beneath the helmet.
He scoffs over the Bluetooth connecting us. “Fuck, no.”
Liar.
Sharing our ritual pre-show fist bump, Taylor revs his engine first, and I follow suit. We tear across the ramps, flipping, twisting, and flying through the air like we’re untouchable. The crowd’s cheers hit a fever pitch when I land a no-hander backflip clean, my middle fingers in the air.
Our routine runs like clockwork—jumps, midair tricks, synchronized moves that only work because we trust each other. Taylor and I have been doing this shit since we were five years old. There's no one I'd rather have at my back than him.
Well, maybe one other person…
We line up at the top of the ramp, engines purring beneath us as we ready ourselves for the grand finale.
On cue, Devon emerges from beneath the stands, looking every bit as colorful as Tay and I do. My heart rate kicks up when he gets closer, and I nod at them both. “You two ready for the coolest shit we’ve ever done?”
Taylor pumps a fist in the air. “Let’s fucking go!”
Devon sighs heavily, but I can hear the excitement in his voice when he says, “I hate that Salem convinced me to do this.”
Shoving my two-stroke to the side, I hop onto Taylor's, squeezing in behind him while Dev climbs on behind me , wrapping his arms around my waist.
Three grown men. One dirt bike. One death wish.
The crowd freaks out before we even move.
“This is fucking dangerous,” Devon mutters.
“This is fucking legendary,” I correct.
And then we floor it .
The bike screams beneath us as we hit the ramp, launching into the air at full throttle. For a heartbeat, we’re weightless, nothing beneath us but air.
BOOM.
Rainbow fireworks explode in the sky, crackling in every color imaginable. Cannons fire at the same time, showering the crowd with glittering rainbow confetti. It catches the floodlights, turning the world into a swirling galaxy of color.
Taylor pulls up on the handlebars, tilting us into a backflip that has me leaning into Devon's chest, the world spinning around us.
Once.
Twice.
Three fucking times.
The whole stadium erupts .
I feel Devon’s arms tighten around me, hear Taylor’s breath hitch as we spot the landing, every muscle locked, every instinct screaming.
We hit the ground hard , tires screeching, balance teetering for a fraction of a second before Tay corrects. The moment we stabilize, the crowd goes ballistic.
Skidding to a stop, Taylor practically falls off the bike, cackling so hard he can’t breathe.
Devon yanks his helmet off, grinning ear to ear. “I can’t believe we just fucking did that.”
“Believe it, baby,” I shout, pulling mine off and shaking confetti from my hair.
Show over. Mic motherfucking drop .
Just as I'm about to hop onto my best friend's back, a blur of movement catches my eye.
Huckslee barrels across the track, launching himself at Taylor, and right there in front of hundreds of people, he crushes their lips together like we just won the Superbowl.
Taylor barely has time to react before kissing back, jumping up to wrap his legs around his boyfriend’s waist. The crowd eats it up.
Maybe it’s the high from the show. Maybe it’s the rush of the moment or the fact that he's hardly spoken to me since yesterday, but I turn to look at Devon.
And find him already looking back.
Reaching out, I thread my gloved fingers through his, trying it out, testing the feel.
He doesn’t pull away. His fingers squeeze back.
“Just for the tour?” I rasp, not really sure what I'm asking, but I go with the flow because it feels right.
Something flashes in his honey-gold eyes, an emotion too quick for me to catch before he smirks slowly. “Sure, hot shot. Just for the tour.”
Then he tugs me in, crushing his mouth to mine.
The crowd roars, fireworks still sizzling in the sky, confetti sticking to our sweat-damp skin.
And for a second, it’s perfect.
For a second, nothing else exists, just Devon's lips on mine, his free hand pressing into the small of my back like he's trying to get us closer.
But then the cheers start to fade inside my head as the reality of the moment creeps in slowly.
Just for the tour.
The words echo between us like a safety net, a preemptive excuse for whatever this is.
Am I wrong to put an expiration date on it? For asking Devon to let me test my newfound queeriosity , as Salem put it?
Probably. Definitely.
I doubt he gives a shit, though.
Devon pulls back first, and there’s something in his features again that I can't figure out. But then he grins, masking it with the same cocky confidence he always does, and I force myself to match it.
Because that’s what we do.
Clearing my throat, I let my smile settle back into place, my pulse flooding my ears. “Statement fucking made.”
He huffs, eyes flickering down to my mouth like he’s considering another kiss. But instead, he squeezes my hand once more before stepping away, rolling his shoulders like this was just another show.
It could be.
But for now, for the tour, I'm one hundred percent okay with that.