Blue makes a sound that’s either a snort or a laugh.
My stomach knots even tighter, and I sink my teeth into my lip, hard. “But?—”
Now Pan turns to me. Just to me. Takes a few steps back so he can lean in. “What’s with the stalling, man?” he says. Softly, but with an edge to his voice. Like he’s suspicious. “What’s the big deal?”
He puts a hand on my shoulder.
I stare at the floor. Ignoring the feeling of him touching me, not even panicking about whether his fingers will slip half an inch to the left and graze the edge of my binder.
Can I do this? I think. Can I actually?
It’s one thing to be Tink. It’s another to be Tinkthere.But…
“I mean, we ride together, right?” Pan goes on, his tone turning more toward a whine. “C’mon, I don’t want to do itwithoutyou.”
…but I guess I don’t have a choice.
“Yeah,” I say. “Okay.”
“Attaboy.” Pan claps me on the shoulder once and tosses his helmet into both hands. “Gentlemen, shall we?”
Something broad and warm slaps me on the shoulder. Fox’s hand.
“Hey, if it’s about your bike, don’t worry,” he says, leaning into my ear. “I’ve got you covered.”
CHAPTER 21
TINK
So I endup riding with Fox again.
It’s less weird than it could be, the second time. Until the other day, it’d been years since I held onto someone on the back of a bike, and I still feel like I don’t really know where to put my hands, but Fox’s broad chest gives me plenty of real estate, and I’m pretty sure I’m doing just fine.
I just…try not to think about it too hard.
Or anything else about where we’re going.
The ride to the Marina’s shorter than I want it to be. Much shorter. I swallow the feeling of creeping dread that bubbles from my stomach to my throat as Fox leans easily into the offramp and takes the turn. Immediately, the roads are fringed with flowers—big bright orange lilies, tight pink clusters of verbena—and the air smells like salt, sunshine, and the faintest hint of diesel as it whips through my visor. We curve downward toward the water, the scene spread out before us: boats bobbing in the slips of the actual harbor while the buildings of the Marina district gleam with white walls and tropical-colored awnings. Boutiques, cafes, restaurants.
A casino.
It’s beautiful. Elegant. Or should be.
I feel like I’m going to throw up.
“You okay?”
I can feel Fox’s voice in his chest as much as I can hear it in my mic. I loosen my grip on him, just slightly.
“Tink. You okay?”
I remember to answer. “Yeah.” I pause. “Why?”
“Nothing. You’re just…” Fox trails off. “You’re sitting allstiff,dude. Relax.”
Yeah, because if I actually hold onto you then I’ll basically be pressing my tits into your back.
“I’m fine,” is all I say out loud.
