Page 15 of Secrets That Bind Us

Dean

Age Seventeen

Cars, bikes, street bikes – whatever.

If it has two wheels or more, I can drive it, and I can win .

The races on Halloween pay the most because they taper down during the holidays and start back up in the spring.

It’s a way to make anywhere from two hundred to fifty grand, ‘cause it’s not just Adelaide residents - it’s every racer from every town between here and Waco.

It’s a day full of gambling, drinking, dancing, and fucking. I love it.

I’ve worked my ass off for this race. Souped up my Kawasaki ZX-12R over the last six months.

She handles like a fucking dream, topping at one hundred and ninety miles an hour.

I’ve gone through this entire strip of asphalt over and over again, learning every curve, every pothole, every hill over the past year - testing mine and my bike’s limits.

Is it cheating? Probably. Is it illegal?

Definitely. But like I said - I fucking love it.

The thrill. The smoke and fumes. The applause. The high of winning.

Everyone other than the racers are dressed up in costumes.

The music is loud and thumping, alcohol pouring, enough weed to make it a bit stinky around some parts, a few bonfires going for tonight, and there’s already people on the outskirts as lookouts for cops.

In other words– the moon is high, the weather is chilly, and the ambiance is perfect .

All I’m missing is my girl by my side and the money for the prize.

I spy Zoey’s Jeep, making its way through the entry bonfires, kicking the dust up in its wake.

I zip up my red and black racing jacket, keeping my sights on the girl in the passenger seat as I glide toward them, helmet in hand.

I help Verity down with my free one and kiss her.

When I pull away, my dick strains in my racing pants.

She’s dressed as an angel in a denim jacket, halo glittering under the full moon- and fuck , she’s heart-stopping.

“What is this place?” She asks, glancing around, taking it all in.

“This?” I ask, holding my arms out, “Is Devil's Night. Every racer from here to Waco is here tonight.” I grin as tires squeal behind me, the scent of burnt rubber and a crowd going crazy is loud.It makes my blood thrum in my veins.

It’s like she’s finally realizing exactly where she is. Her eyes go wide and she shakes her head. “I can’t be here. I should go.”

What? “What?”

“This is really dangerous. I thought this was a myth. People die here.”

“Nobody’s died here since the ‘90’s.” I scoff, losing my smile. This doesn’t feel right. “I thought you’d like this. A new experience.”

Her eyes narrow and it’s the first time she’s ever looked pissed at me. She blinks rapidly, pushing her frames up her nose. “Your mom doesn’t really give you an allowance, does she?”

No, she doesn’t. All her money goes to her ‘extracurriculars,’ and the child support she does pay ain’t shit because she can’t keep a fuckin’ job.

I’m finally all too aware of Zoey and Evan watching our exchange when the sound of an alarm goes off three times, signaling for the racers to get in line for the next race. “Let’s talk about that later. Can you… the race is about to start. Just watch one with me. You’ll see it’s not dangerous.”

I pull her reluctant hand with mine, and weave through the crowd, so she gets a good view of me winning. Because what I didn’t say was that it was my turn to race. “Dean, I really don’t want to be here.”

I don’t know why I say what I say – maybe it’s the displeasure in her voice, or the fact it feels like she’s judging me for doing something I love.

Something I'm actually good at - illegal or not. But I spit it out like a man on a mission. “That’s why people don’t fucking like you, Verity.

You think you’re so high and fucking mighty, Little Miss So-Fucking-Perfect all the goddamn time when you and your mama prance around town with bruises.

I mean just look at your costume. A fucking prude through and through.

” She flinches, and I want to stop, but my mouth keeps fucking going.

“I’ll take you home after I finish this fucking race and get my money.

Stay right there and look fucking pretty while you do it, Angel . ” I seethe.

I see the second I break her heart. The moment I know I’m going to have to grovel for forgiveness.

“Dean, please don’t do this!”

But it’s too late. I already am. I shove my head in my helmet and swing my leg over my bike, switching on the ignition.

I rev my engine, anger still coursing through me as the grid girls – Tiffany and some other chick I don’t know – step right onto the lane.

I keep my focus where it needs to be: between the yellow strips of paint.

When the flags go down, my tires burn, that familiar squeal sounds loud and clear, and then I’m off.

Adrenaline courses through me as I reach the first curve, the guy beside me – known to everyone as fucking Spyder – gains speed as we reach the hill. But I got this. I go into neutral for three seconds, letting him think he’s beating me, and then into fifth, redlining as I pass him at one-twenty.

I slow, pass the second curve, leaning my body down so close to the ground, the pad on my knee sparks against the asphalt, down the hill at one-forty, and round the last curve to go back to the finish line.

I almost don’t see it.

With my visor on and my speed, I almost don’t see the fucking deer jump into the road.

The crowd watching screams a muffled scream.

I throw my gear into neutral, and when I brake, I turn, my handles wobble, and then I’m fucking sliding .

I don’t let go of my handles, so I’m dragged.

The deer runs off. My stomach drops, the last image in my head is of the crushed look on Verity’s face when I was spouting bullshit.

No, no, no, no!

I watch Spyder win my fifty thousand dollars – because he’s going to the next round. And I just fucked everything up with Verity for nothing .It may as well been my heart that was dragged through the asphalt.

I stand, a quarter mile away, swallowing, pulse dropping, a ringing in my ears, watching the taillights of Zoey’s Jeep as it weaves through the open crowd. My angel in it. I’ve limped halfway to Will when someone screams - “ Cops !”

After spending a night in jail so my dad can ‘teach me a lesson,’ I’m not in school on Monday or Tuesday since my road rash is mild. It’s fine. I’ve had worse.

Verity avoids me like the plague for the rest of the week by being surrounded by her friends and staying after class to talk to teachers.

I can’t even find her in the library at lunch.

When I go to her house, Mama Marie just says Verity isn’t feeling good and I should go home for a week straight.

There’s a look in Mama Marie’s eyes that feels like disappointment.

I don’t want to go home. I want to come inside and study.

And have dinner around an actual table – like a family.

I want to discuss my day, and school, and football strategy. I want…

When I climb up the side of the porch using the trellis and try to climb in through her window, it’s locked . The blinds are down, and the curtains are closed.

I finally catch her alone the following Monday morning, waiting by her locker. She pales when she sees me. Micah steps out of nowhere and gets in my way. I reach around him, grab her by the wrist, yanking her, and when she gasps, I let go. “Fuck, Verity, baby, I’m sorry.”

She clutches her hand and stares at the ground.

C’mon baby, look at me.

She lifts her sorrowful gaze up to mine and shakes her head slowly with a tired blink.

“I don’t want to talk, Dean. I think you said everything you needed to and I’m…

I get it, okay? Thank you for helping me.

” But it looks like she has so much more to say.

I know she does. She’s gnawing on the inside of her bottom lip.

She doesn’t.

‘Cause I’m not worth her words.

She walks away while Micah guards her, arms over his chest, fucking smirking .

“What the fuck is your problem?”

He chuckles darkly. “Nothin’. I fucking knew you were bound to fuck up sooner or later. Just had to wait my turn.”

“You’re wrong, Micah. She’s mine. Always been mine. You’re nothing but a fucking place holder.”

“And that’s where you’re wrong, Dean. I’ve been playing the long game.

Sure, she sees me as just a friend now .

But in a few weeks? When she’s not heartbroken anymore, guess who she’s gonna turn to?

Her friends . She’ll realize I treat her better than you ever could.

I’d never disrespect or humiliate her like that. ”

“Wrong again, Micah. Because she’ll never love you like she loves me.

Not then, not now, not ever. Me and her are end game.

Just wait and see. You’ll never be good enough for her.

Ever .” I laugh when his face drops. “You’re nothing but a mediocre piece of shit.

Always have been, always will be, and she’ll see it.

And when she does?” I shrug, “I’ll be right here waiting.

Cause I’m not gonna give up. I’ll give her space.

” I look at her waiting at the end of the hallway for Micah’s bitch ass. “For now.”

I plan to find a way to talk to her.

Except she’s never alone. She’s always with someone – or if she sees me coming – she goes the other way and finds someone to walk with.

If we share a class, she still sits beside me, and I stare at her.

She squirms under my gaze and turns a lovely shade of pink.

She doesn’t come to my games anymore, not even when I take the team to the playoffs. It hurts, but that’s fine.

After the winter holiday break, Mrs. Bryant calls her to stay after class, and I stay just outside the threshold, listening in. “Your story made it into that magazine I told you about.”

“Oh, that’s great. Did Dean’s?”