Total pages in book: 155
Estimated words: 152045 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 760(@200wpm)___ 608(@250wpm)___ 507(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 152045 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 760(@200wpm)___ 608(@250wpm)___ 507(@300wpm)
Heading into the parking lot, I see Constin hanging with a few others.
“Give me your bike and take my car,” I tell him, holding out my keys.
He stares at my hand, sucking a drag off a cigarette. He’s not one to be told things, especially when I came down on him the other morning for being in Dylan’s house.
But he digs out his keys, tossing them to me, because my car is worth a lot more than his bike. I hand him my set and take his helmet before climbing on his motorcycle.
I head home.
I’ll shower, change clothes... Maybe run into the Falls to see my parents. The Pirates have school today, so Kade won’t be around town.
But the first thing I check for when I pull up in front of my grandfather’s brownstone is Farrow’s bike. I run inside Dylan’s house, finding the door unlocked and no sign of her.
It takes about two seconds for me to realize where he took her.
Jumping back on the bike, I coast down the hill, toward the docks, and turn onto River Road. I don’t have a motorcycle license or a lot of experience, so I cruise slowly, the bike rocking ever so slightly as I navigate the bumpy roads and swerve around potholes.
I’m glad Dylan can’t see me now, but to my satisfaction, Kade isn’t a whole lot better on a bike. He has one, but he prefers his truck. It fits his crew.
I stop at the sign, just before the hill, and lift my visor before I take out my phone. Holding it up, I zoom in on the track snaking through the trees higher and higher, spotting Dylan and Farrow zooming in and out of view.
She’s on another bike. Goddammit. Did he take her to Green Street to get one? I’m going to kill him.
She’s there again, in my lens, but then I lose sight of her as she curves with the street. I hold my breath as she slides around the Throat, disappearing.
And then…she’s there, and I exhale as she finishes her turn and speeds away.
I watch them ride Phelan’s Throat a few times, both of them disappearing for spells where Farrow is probably giving her pointers, each time she gets smoother and faster.
Then, I watch him nudge his bike into the trees, off the track, and she follows.
I zoom in on my camera, trying to catch a glimpse, but they don’t come back. They’re not riding. What are they doing?
“Hey, Hunter.”
I drop my arms, startled. Turning, I see Coral’s car cruise up to the Stop sign, the old Corvair packed with girls. Arlet hangs out the passenger side window. “What are you doing today?” she asks.
No idea.
I think I should welcome a distraction, though. I tuck away my phone. “At your service,” I offer.
She smiles wide and jumps out of the car. “This is supposed to be girls only, but I could use a ride.”
She hops on behind me, and I remove my helmet, handing it to her.
“Where are we going?” I ask.
“Phelan’s Throat,” she replies, pulling on the helmet. “Let’s get Farrow and that Pirate first.” And then to the girls in the car. “Meet you in the Falls!”
The Falls?
They drive off, and Arlet wraps her arms around me before I kick off. Keeping my speed down, I grip the handlebars tightly, doing everything to not let her know that I’ve never ridden with someone else.
But after a minute, I push it faster. She leans when I lean, doesn’t fight the distribution of weight. Not bad. She knows how to ride with someone.
We climb the hill, coming up on the halfway mark to the top, and I see Dylan and Farrow off to the right, in the trees. He sits behind her on her bike, holding her hips, and something coils in my gut.
We stop, and Farrow looks over at me. Dylan holds her handlebars, a soft smile appearing when she sees me.
“Hunter,” Farrow says.
He climbs off Dylan’s bike, and my hands ache before I realize I’m squeezing the handlebars. “You gave her another bike?”
He arches an eyebrow like he doesn’t explain himself.
I look to Dylan. “Where’s your helmet?”
She reaches down on her other side, picking it up off the ground.
She smiles wider, but I don’t return it. Her gaze flashes to the girl behind me, and her expression falters.
“Your friend was about to give me a sex lesson,” she blurts out.
A what?
Farrow tells Dylan, “Well, no one else is giving you one.”
But he looks at me when he says it.
“Navigating the throat is about rhythm,” he says. “Moving with the machine, controlling it and knowing when not to.” He pulls his hoodie back on over his sleeveless white T-shirt. “Look at Arlet.” He jerks his chin toward us. “Look at her body on his.”
I go still. Their eyes take us in, and I feel Arlet’s arms tighten around me as I become hyperaware of her weight on my back.