“What are you doing, Reese?”
“We’re going to the movies.”
“You’re welcome to come along if you want,” Blain offered, smiling at Quill.
“Yeah, Quill. Why don’t you go hang out with your sister and her friends tonight?”
Reese’s disapproving look didn’t go unnoticed either. She didn’t want her to go, Quill could tell.
“No, I think I’m going to go for a walk,” she said, closing the laptop and walking in to get her shoes.
Liz followed her inside.
“I’m going to step out for a bit. You going to be okay here?” she asked.
Freaking Reese, who was two years younger, spent every waking moment running with her friends, and she was the one treated like the five year old.
“Yes. What is it that you think I am going to do?” she angrily asked. And why the hell did she think she had to hide her boyfriend? Aquilla could have cared less what she was doing.
“Nothing, Quill, I was just asking.”
“Sorry,” she said, tying her shoes.
She didn’t look at Blain, knowing he was watching her as she jumped the two steps and headed toward the track.
Patchette wasn’t there. It was another car running laps. She felt a little disappointment for whatever reason. It wasn’t that she found him attractive or anything. She didn’t even really know what he looked like. He had been in some sort of jumpsuit the first and only time she had seen him.
She leaned against the fence with one shoulder as she watched the guy spin around the track.
“Hey feather,” she heard the male voice and turned to see Patchette in low rise jeans, wearing a t-shirt with the sides cut out. His hair was dark and sweaty, messy, probably from a helmet.
“Feather?” Aquilla asked.
He smiled, tilting his pack of M&Ms, letting them pour into his mouth.
“Sorry. I know it has something to do with a bird. I forget your name.”
Aquilla laughed. “Quill,” she offered. “Glad a made an impression,” she teased.
“Oh you did, just not your name,” he admitted, looking her up and down, not trying to be discrete about it.
He took a step toward her and offered his candy.
“No thanks. I saw you race the other night,” she admitted.
“You did?” he asked surprised. “You were here?”
“Yeah, you did okay,” she said, not sounding impressed.
“Okay? I came in second. That’s more than okay. There were 21 cars on that track,” he informed, nodding toward the track.
“But you could have taken first if you wouldn’t have been riding the outside of turn four. I was watching you. You took the inside of every turn except that one,” she nodded, “and that was the only one he was able to pass you, pretty stupid when it’s the last turn before the finish line, eh?”
“How many races have you attended?” he asked, sitting on the bottom bleacher, resting his elbows on his knees.
Quill noticed the bulkiness in his arms. “One,” she smiled, sitting beside him.
“Then you’re an expert,” he assured her, bumping her shoulder.
He smelled of manly sweat and some sort of lingering cologne.
“Wanna go for a ride?” he asked.
“On the track?” she asked, a little too excited.
“Yeah, where else did you think I was talking about?”
“Hell yeah,” she exclaimed, not trying to hide the excitement.
He smiled and stood, leading her back around the bleachers by his hand on the small of her back.
“Where are we going, I thought we were going down there?”
“We are,” he nodded toward the dirt bike. “You didn’t think we were going to walk all the way down there did you?”
She shrugged. “I just walked two miles to get here,” she replied.
Patchette threw his long leg over first and started the bike. He nodded to the back of the seat after kick starting the bike.
Aquilla kept her hands on her legs until he told her to hold on. She gripped his tight abs and he tromped on the throttle, bringing the front wheel off the ground. She screamed and tightened her grip.
He laughed. “Don’t worry, I’m not going to wreck you.”
Patchette drove them to the middle of the pits where a few other guys stood around talking about engines.
“Quill, this is Ricky, Kemp, and Chaz,” Patchette said, nodding to each one of his friends. They were all friendly to her and she was happily surprised that they didn’t ask about her kidnapping and being all over the news.
“I’m going to take Quill for a ride,” he informed them.
The one that he introduced as Ricky tossed her a helmet. “You should probably wear that if you’re riding with Patchette,” he assured her.
“Fuck you, where’d you come in Saturday night?” Patchette asked.
“My sway bar broke,” Ricky said as an excuse.
“I’m not going to wreck you, but put it on anyway,” he ordered.
Patchette started out slow, only picking up speed on the straight stretch.
“You ready for some speed?” he asked, smiling over at her.
She nodded with a big smile.
He smiled back and gunned the gas pedal. Her head was gravity forced to the back of the seat. She squealed in pure adrenalin excitement.
He did five, very fast laps before slowing down.
“That was fucking awesome!” she exclaimed.
He laughed. “And you have a potty mouth,” he countered.
“I do have a potty mouth. I can’t help it.”
“What do you mean you can’t help it? You can’t help what you say?”
“I could. I don’t want to. I love the word fuck,” she admitted, staring at him with narrowed eyes. What the fuck was she doing? Was she attracted to this guy?
He laughed. “I’m glad you’re honest,” he said, sliding out the window and coming to her side. He unsnapped the net window and took her hand to help her out. “I like to fuck to, I mean the word fuck,” he rephrased in a low voice.
“I like to do that too,” she replied in her own sensual tone, as she placed her hands on his shoulders and slid down his body, climbing out. She noticed the shocked expression that he was trying to hide. She didn’t care. She wasn’t playing this small town damsel game. She was who she was, and if he didn’t like it, she would move on. Kemp was pretty cute.
Aquilla hung out with the four guys all afternoon, mostly watching them work on cars and talk about engine parts that she had no clue what they were. She and Patchette stared at each other more than once. Okay. She was definitely attracted or horny, but nonetheless, he would do.
By seven o’clock, the two of them were alone in the pits as the sun started to disappear behind the trees. Patchette leaned against his car with crossed ankles. He removed his ball cap and ran his fingers through his hair.
“You’re only 17,” he said, studying her.
“I’m 18. Shelby Rimmer is 17. I haven’t been her since I was three,” she assured him, leaning against the car parked beside his. “How old are you?”
“23, and you’re still 17, according to your parents, who I am sure wouldn’t approve of me.”
Aquilla boldly walked toward him, leaning into his body and looked up to him. “I don’t really tell my parents anything about me,” she assured him. “We don’t really talk at all, actually.”
“What are you doing here, Quill?” he asked, looking down at her.
“You want the truth or would you rather I lie?” she asked.
“Truth, always.”
She ran her hand behind his neck, playing with his curls. “Remember our conversation about fucking earlier?” she asked. She didn’t care. She wasn’t doing the whole love, emotional shit again. She wanted one thing and he could give it to her.