Simon is enchanted, and I notice every obvious sign. The way he holds on to her hand for a heartbeat too long. His dilated pupils. The particular curve of his lips. “Have we met before?”

“I don’t believe so.”

“Maybe you’ve been to The Consulate Bar? I’m a bartender there.”

“I haven’t,” she says and shrugs. “I must have one of those faces.”

Simon turns on his most charming smile. “I doubt that.”

“Time to move along, asshole,” I say, my tone joking enough that Simon laughs despite my growing urge to tear out his throat. “She’ll flatten you faster than you can blink.”

Simon bellows another laugh and slaps me on the shoulder. “Okay, Kap. You’re up in ten. Bria, it was a pleasure.” Simon gives us a little salute before he shifts past us, Bria’s eyes following his movement. Her face is empty of emotion, an untouched canvas. Except for her eyes. They glitter with malice, like she’s planning a hundred different ways to flay Simon alive.

“Murdery vibes,” I say, pulling her closer.

Bria’s expression flashes as though my words are a lightning strike, burning through the darkness. “What?”

“You looked like you wanted to kill him.” I kiss Bria’s freckled nose and when I pull away, her eyes are locked somewhere near my heart.

“I did?”

Shit. Bria has not taken this as a joke. She looks confused, possibly even disturbed. Maybe I crossed some line without realizing. There are moments when I’m so focused on the present with her that I forget about the terrible past she keeps shuttered away. I don’t know what’s in that box, or what she’s suffered or been witness to.

I fold my arm around Bria’s back. “Hey. I’m sorry.”

Bria’s confusion only seems to deepen, a small crease appearing between her brows as she meets my eyes. “What for?”

“The joke about murdery vibes. If it’s any consolation, I had an urge to kill him too, if that’s what was going through your head. Nothing to be ashamed about. It’s not like you acted on it.”

Bria tries to smile but it looks pained, and a sting of guilt burns in my heart. I pull her closer until she climbs onto the bike in front of me, her legs dangling over mine. And I don’t care who’s here or what they think or who they know. I hold Bria’s waist with my gloved hands and kiss her like we’re the only two people in the world. Her subtle taste of mint covers my tongue as she explores my mouth. Her nails scrape through my hair and the back of my neck. Bria sinks into me and the sounds of music and voices fade away until she’s the only thing that’s real.

And she is. She’s the only thing that’s real. The only person who feels authentic. She fills the empty spaces with mystery and wit and humor and beauty. No one has ever fit like she does.

When the outside world crashes in, it’s with the sound of a horn and a responding whoop of whistles and cheers. We look to Simon, the source of the sound, standing in the center of the parking lot with a folded note in his hand.

“Welcome to the Autumn Adder!” he bellows, and another cheer rises from the group. “We’ve got a lot of contenders this year for the Snakehead Trophy.”

“It’s the ugliest trophy of all time. Not sure why I risk my neck for it,” I say in a low voice to Bria as Simon raises the hunk of brass in the air to the hollering crowd.

“We’ll do four heats of six. The top two riders from each heat will enter the finals,” Simon says, looking down at his note. “First up are Kaplan, Alvarez, Carter, Yu, Wilson, and Ness. Make your way to the starting line, my people.”

Clapping and voices surround us as engines roar to life. Bria presses her palms to my cheeks and I’m caught in the gravity of her deep brown eyes. Whatever she feels is buried so deep I can only see the most diaphanous evidence that worry swims beneath the surface. It’s in the heartbeat pulsing in her neck. It’s the way her gaze filters between my eyes, her lips pressing together. I kiss the bridge of her nose where her freckles concentrate.

“Be careful,” she says when I pull away. Those faint traces of worry disappear and a stern darkness settles in her skin. “I don’t want to inherit your wardrobe.”

I laugh as Bria grins and climbs off my bike. “Don’t worry, sweetheart. I’ve left it to Duke.” I pull on my helmet and nod to the hill behind the gas station. “If you head up the path, you’ll see us come around the second curve.”

“I’ll be there.”

“Pancake,” I say, then cover her mouth with my gloved hand. She glares at me and I give her a lopsided smile. “I love you.”

Bria’s glare softens as I pull down my visor with my free hand and start the engine. I don’t take my palm from her lips until I’m ready to take off, and I don’t look to see if she tries to answer. I just rev the engine and head to the starting line.

I roll into place next to Alvarez and we knock fists as the others fan out next to us. Simon’s brother gets into position with a flag. Adrenaline floods my veins with every hammering beat of my heart.

And after seconds that seem to stretch too long, the flag drops and we’re surging ahead. The initial stretch is straight and the pack stays together as we reach the first curve, leaning into the sweeping bend. Another short stretch and I’m pulling into second place. We round the curve behind the gas station and I pass Alvarez, hoping Wilson is at the back of the pack. And then I concentrate on keeping my balance, accelerating through the snakelike curves, speeding down the straights. The race ends where there’s a flat stretch just before a bridge over a gorge and I keep my position, with Wilson just behind me.

We turn back after the positions are confirmed and head to the abandoned gas station where I find Bria chatting with Alvarez’s wife Beth, who’s due to race in one of the later heats. I shut off my bike and pull off my helmet and gloves as Alvarez parks next to her, his expression a mix of rage and worry.

“Fucking Wilson,” he grits out, his eyes tracking Wilson’s bike behind me as he enters the parking lot. “He nearly knocked me off on the fifth turn.”

“I told you. That guy is a cheating prick.”

“I believe you, man. It’s Simon who needs convincing. They go too far back.” Alvarez sighs and shakes his head, turning his attention to his wife. “If you win your heat, I think you should consider calling it a day, babe. It’s not worth eating asphalt because of that asshole.”

Beth crosses her arms but says nothing. She just stares across the lot at Wilson as he turns off his Honda. Her glare turns into a deadly smirk as she catches Wilson’s eye and he saunters toward us. Instinct propels me off my bike and in front of Bria, who looks disquietingly at ease.

“Julio,” Wilson calls to Alvarez as he draws closer. “Better luck next year, I guess.”

“Fuck you, man.”

Wilson laughs and runs a hand across his buzzed blond hair. “Ouch. Sore loser, eh? What about you, Beth? Will you congratulate me when I win, or are you gonna be a little bitch about it too?”

Beth bursts forward to scrape his eyeballs clean out of his skull, but Alvarez manages to wrap an arm around her waist before she can reach him. “Don’t turn your back, asshole,” she snarls, spitting at Wilson. She misses his face but hits his jacket and he laughs.

“Uh oh, Bethie. You know threats aren’t allowed. Simon says and all that.”

“What about cheating?” Bria interjects, her voice calm and even. I turn toward her but she’s looking down at her phone. “What does Simon say about that? Perhaps we should ask him.”

Bria ignores Wilson’s proclamation of innocence and whistles before yelling Simon’s name, still not looking up from her phone. Simon registers the tension among our group and walks over, his gaze bouncing between us.

“What’s up, my people?” he asks in a cheery tone that fails to disguise his wariness.

“Simon, what’s your policy on cheating?” Bria asks, her eyes glued to her screen. Wilson shifts on his heels, irritation and fury rolling from his tense shoulders.