Page 12 of Rear View

Xavier

I tugged the zipper up the chest of my driving suit. The thing was light, custom fit and made of Nomex, a fire-retardant material to keep us from burnin’ up when we raced—or crashed. The team’s name and logo stretched across my back, and it looked damn good, its crisp black a standout.

The Civic Centre was packed. The rumble of engines and buzz of voices filled the place, echoing off the rafters a hundred feet overhead.

Our car sat on a purple velvet platform, set above everything else.

Lights angled up, showing off the sleek lines.

Alec and I stood beside it, taking pictures with fans, and answering questions.

It was strange; people looking at me like I was someone who mattered.

I checked my phone. Ryah might be here soon. Shit, I hoped she was.

Trina’s heels clacked when she sashayed over, her pink dress tight, little and way too much. A camera crew trailed twenty feet behind her, the red Edgewater Sports Network logo on their lanyards.

“Alec, Xavier,” she said. “ESN has requested an interview.”

Straightening, I grinned.

Trina might’ve been a lot, but I couldn’t deny, she was good at gettin’ us attention.

The questions were rapid-fire: What’s your favorite track? Favorite car? Drivers who inspired you? Goals? Training regimen? Are you excited for your first race in the WRC?

Alec and I took turns answering. It sounded good and felt weird as hell.

“And last question,” the interviewer said. “What’s the top skill needed for a race car driver?”

That one was easy. “Stayin’ calm. There’s no room for panic. When stuff happens, your head’s gotta be clear.”

The guy clicked the mic off. “Great job!”

With that, they left, and Trina followed while something pulled my focus. My stare pushed through the crowd until it landed on her—the prettiest woman in the building. In the goddamn city. Country. Christ, ever!

Ryah walked toward me, those copper eyes bright when they locked with mine, cheeks turning a wicked shade of pink the longer I held her gaze. She tugged the sleeves of her hoodie, her head tilting down as she smiled at me through her lashes.

I dragged in a deep breath and flicked my arm out, thumping Alec’s chest with the back of my hand. “Cover for me for a bit?”

He followed my line of sight. “Go. I’ve got this.”

Clearing my throat, my booted feet pounded against the diamond tread of the steel steps as I headed for ground level, then aimed for my dream girl. Zoya and Miles walked on her one side—my gut dropped—and that blond-haired preppy guy on her other.

Was he a friend? More? Ryah’d only asked for three tickets. Was he the invite? Or the tagalong?

His hair was styled to the side. He wore an expensive gray wool coat and black dress shoes. He stood out, the tight set of his shoulders and downturn of his mouth making it clear what he thought of me.

Big-feelin’ prick.

I took a steadying breath, ’cause something more important walked my way. “Hey, darlin’.”

Preppy boy tensed.

“Hey,” Ryah said, then smiled just for me and it felt good. A drug. I wanted more, needed it.

I gave Zoya a nod before I turned to Ryah’s brother and stuck my fist out. “Miles.”

He bumped it. “Hey, man.” He gestured at my suit. “The new gear’s wicked!”

“Thanks.” I peered down and flicked the patch over my right pec. “Signed a new sponsor.”

“I’m not surprised. You guys are killing it!”

My lips tugged up and I glanced at my dream girl.

She pointed to blondie. “Xavier, this is Christian.”

Damn , I loved my name on her tongue. Would’ve loved it better if it wasn’t followed by his, but I’d take what I could get.

“Christian,” I said, and was about to offer a shake but he shoved his hands in his pockets like he was above it all.

I forced back the dark laugh that tried to tear its way out. Whether they were a thing or not, he either wanted her, or didn’t want anyone else to have her. I hated the guy on fuckin’ principle.

Chucking my chin Ryah’s way, I asked, “How ya feelin’?”

“Good.” She trailed a hand over her ribs. “Barely hurts anymore.”

“That campus security guy follow up about what happened?”

“Yeah, but it’s fine. I’m not gonna pursue it.”

I frowned. “You’re too nice.”

Zoya threw her hands up. “That’s what I said!”

“R.J. can decide for herself,” Christian added.

R.J.?

Ryah shrugged. “I just don’t want the trouble.”

Somethin’ about the words hit different, like she’d meant them for another reason. I wanted to push, but the creases around her eyes held me back. If she didn’t wanna talk about it, I wasn’t in a place to make her.

“So.” I gestured around. “What d’ya think?”

“This is something,” she said, her expression eager as she took the place in. “Have you always been into cars?”

Eager was good. I could work with that. “Pretty much, yeah.”

“What made you start racing?” Zoya asked.

Driving? That was another story. But racing… “I was offered a chance.” A damn good one I hadn’t been about to turn down.

Ryah tilted her head like she’d picked up that I’d left a hell of a lot out. She tugged the string on her hood. “Why rally?”

Good question, dream girl. That answer was tough, though, and not one I wanted to dive deep on with an audience. “I needed the challenge.”

Again, her brow furrowed like she caught the nuance. Needed. Not wanted.

“You plan to do this forever?” Christian asked.

The question was fine, but the condescending tone had my jaw working. “This ain’t a forever thing.”

“So, no long-term career goals, then?” A comment pretending to be a question.

“Christian!” Ryah scolded while Miles and Zoya mean-mugged the guy.

“What? I’m just asking.”

People could think what they wanted about me.

Did I want respect? Yeah. I couldn’t give a shit about his, but overall, who didn’t?

And I’d be damned if a slick prick like him would make me feel some kinda way about my life.

I squared myself to him. “Win. That’s my goal.

Get to the top of the WRC, then buy a team.

” I cocked my head and gave him a “watch yourself” smirk. “That good enough for you?”

He lifted a shoulder and looked away.

Fuckin’. Dick.

Zoya squeaked and pointed across the way. “Is that a bathroom?”

I glanced over my shoulder. “Sure is.”

“I drank my weight in coffee before we came.” She grabbed Ryah’s wrist. “Come with me, please,” she said, draggin’ my girl away before she could say a word.

“I’ll keep you company,” Christian mumbled and caught up to them.

His arm touched Ryah’s as he moved. My gut hardened and I stretched my neck to cover my irritation.

It didn’t work.

The girls slipped into the washroom while preppy boy waited outside. He pulled out his phone and started typing.

“Christian was at the hospital,” I said to Miles.

“Yeah,” he replied, tone flat.

I propped a hip against the platform and crossed my feet at the ankles. “He someone I should know about?”

His mouth pulled to the side, and he took a bottle of water from his pocket. “They’ve known each other since high school. Dated on and off for a bit a couple of years ago. They TA together at the university. He’d been seeing someone else but I’m not sure where that sits now.”

Dammit. “Ryah doesn’t talk about any of it?”

He shook his head. “Not anymore.”

“Any reason?”

“Dunno.” He popped the top on his drink. “She keeps to herself a lot these days. It’s been a minute since she was out like this.”

My head cocked his way. The girl was gorgeous, smart and had a wicked tongue. She was a goddamn catch. She should’ve been living it up. What the hell would keep her home? “You shittin’ me?”

“Nope.” He took a swig of his water. “Not my place to talk about it, but she’s been through some stuff, man.”

The kind of stuff that just happened? Or the kind of stuff that was done to her? The girls headed back our way, Christian on their tail. My eyes tracked Ryah’s. Someone hurt you, darlin’?

“Either way, I’m pretty sure she’d tell me if they were a thing, so my guess is she’s single. Why?” Miles smirked. “You interested?”

I straightened and kept my tone easy. “Be a problem if I was?”

He tipped his bottle my way. “Don’t turn out to be an ass and you’re golden.”

Good answer. “Can do, brother.”

Zoya nudged Ryah and said something to her. Biting her lip, Ryah came my way. Christian followed her with his stare, a frown creasing his brow.

“You two look like you’re up to no good,” she said.

I patted the stage beside me. “Just waitin’ for you.”

Christian’s nostrils flared.

A familiar face sauntered toward us, paper bag in hand. “Hey, stranger!”

“Hey!” I turned to my dream girl. “Ryah, this is Alec’s fiancée, Sheila.”

Sheila grinned. “So, you’re the one he’s been talking about.”

Ryah froze.

Fuck me. Sweat crept along my spine when my attention flicked to Alec and screamed, “Get your girl before she chases mine off.”

His mouth arced up like he considered letting me suffer before he turned to Sheila and put me outta my misery. “You got something for me?”

She rattled the bag. “Lunch.”

He rubbed his hands together. “Knew I hitched myself to you for a reason.” He snickered. “Now bring me my food!”

“Excuse me,” Sheila said to the group as a whole. “I’m apparently needed.”

I breathed deep to ease the burn inside my rib cage, ’cause I wanted that. Wanted what they had. The family I was missing.

Ryah tugged her hands into her sleeves and cleared her throat. “So, that’s your car?”

Smooth, darlin’. My focus shifted to her. “That’s her. You wanna see?”

Her smile widened. “I’d love to.”

I straightened, my chest expanding as I stood taller and waved for them to follow. “Come on, I’ll get you closer.”

“The stage looks a little crowded.” Miles clapped me on the shoulder. “You take Ry.” He eyed Christian. “The rest of us can wait here.”

I owed the guy a beer. Or a fuckin’ kidney.

Giving him a nod, I held the velvet rope for Ryah.

Her gaze narrowed. “Am I allowed back here?”

I gave her a wink before she blushed and ducked under.