Okay, he had to stop or he’d get in a car accident. He’d practice later.
When he got home, however, Quan’s black Ducati was parked in Khai’s regular spot at the curb. And the garage was open.
What. The. Fuck.
He screeched into the driveway, cranked the emergency brake, and turned the key in the ignition before jumping out of his car.
“What are you doing?” he asked as he stomped toward the garage, where Quan stood next to Andy’s motorcycle. He’d tossed the tarp off and put the black helmet on the seat.
“It’s time you got rid of this cheap-ass bike,” Quan said, giving him a steady stare.
Khai fisted his hands as his muscles went rigid. “No.”
“You’re ready now.”
“No.”
“Okay, then ride it,” Quan said.
“No.” Khai stalked over to the bike and reached for the key in the ignition.
Before he could yank it out, Quan grabbed his wrist tightly and met his gaze head on. “I know why you’re pushing her away even though you love her.”
“I. Don’t. Love. Her,” he said through his teeth.
Quan’s jaw dropped. “How can you say that? You were there today. You were the one holding on to her like you were falling apart, and she was the one keeping you together. She was exactly what you needed. Because you love her, and she loves you back, yo
u shit.”
He repeated himself, “I. Don’t. Lo—”
“You do,” Quan said. “But you’ve got weird shit going on in your head. Do you feel responsible for Andy or something? Guilty? You’re afraid of losing her, so you push her away? What is it? Figure it out today because she’s leaving in a week, and you’ll regret it forever.”
Khai shook his head as his brain hiccuped. That wasn’t right. That didn’t make sense. That wasn’t him.
And fuck, there was only one week left.
“Why won’t you ride the damned bike?” Quan asked.
Khai looked at the wall. “You’re 5.5 times more likely to get in a fatal accident on a motorcycle than a car.”
“That’s still only a 0.07 percent chance. We have a higher chance of dying from Mom’s cooking.”
Khai blinked. “You remember the exact number?”
Quan rolled his eyes and threw his hands in the air. “Yeah, I can read, and I remember shit. I’m actually kind of smart.”
“Riding a motorcycle isn’t smart.”
Quan aimed a pointed stare at him. “Sometimes the things people do and believe don’t make sense. I feel most alive when I might die. And you, you’re convinced you don’t feel, and the responsible thing is to avoid people.”
“That’s the way things are,” Khai said.
“No, it’s bullshit. Where was Andy heading when he got hit by that semi?”
Khai looked down at the deep scratches on the motorcycle. Those had happened the night of the accident. “He was coming to see me.”
“Why?”