“That’s not the game we’re playing right now.”
“No. We’re playing a game we can’t win.”
As that sentiment sank into my bones, Hunt promised, “We’ll go over the car with a fine-tooth comb. We’ll check everything before Griff drives.”
“Everything’ll be fine, Joss,” Brady said, and I nodded numbly in response.
I’d never been so sure of anything in my life: everything wouldnotbe fine.
It already wasn’t.
27
Not a Play-It-Safe Kinda Crew
Bobo really didn’t look happy to be left behind,” Layla commented from the back seat.
We were all piled into the new Clyde, and with Griffin at the wheel I rode shotgun.
“When he gave me those eyes of his,” she went on, “all sad and shit? I swear, I was crazy close to smuggling him in the trunk.”
It wasn’t like I never left Bobo at the house when I went out. With school alone, he was used to it. But my sweet boy and I were connected. Undoubtedly, he could feel the tension vibrating through me. He’d protested my leaving more than usual, his insistence pushing the limits of all the training I’d done with him.
“The crossroads is no place for him,” Brady told his sister.
“Well, obviously. I wasn’t actually suggesting we turn around and go pick him up. He just … it made me sad, that’s all.”
“It made me sad too,” I said softly, gazing out the window, taking in the trees the headlights illuminated as we zoomed past them.
Griffin zipped around a curve, shifted gears, and brought his hand to my thigh, squeezing my leg through my tight jeans.
In the car’s near darkness, I couldn’t make out the intensity of his eyes, just the contours of his beautiful face, the gentle curves of his lips.
“We could still go back though,” I ventured. “Order pizza and get cozy with some beers, maybe some herb. Binge watch some moreWarrior. Get inspired with some of its sick fight scenes before Homer and them kick our asses tomorrow. Remind ourselves why we’re training.”
Griffin glanced at me before fixing his eyes back on the winding road up ahead, pulling his hand from my leg to shift again.
Instantly, I missed his touch. I’d gotten too little of it lately, while we all played the parts Magnum had assigned us in this farce.
“That show is so totally lit,” Brady said. “Makes me want to be able to fight like they do right the fuck now. Get sticky as much as they do too.”
“That show makes even me want to get sticky,” Layla chimed in, as if either of them wanting to get laid more often was unusual.
“Shall we do it, then?” I asked, my question hopeful.
“You know we can’t,” Griffin said.
I’d already tried to talk him out of racing several times in the last hour. Even though I expected that answer, I sighed. “Can’t we though? Who cares what Rich and all his stupid friends think?”
“It’s not about that. I don’t care one shit what any of them think.” Griffin switched to speaking to us alone.
Hunt said.
I swiveled in my seat to fully face Griff’s silhouette.
Layla said with a chortle.
