“You mean you don’t need the competition.” Mads reached for a cigarette. “Admit it, Taylor, you have a thing for my girl Josie.”
Before she could light her smoke, Brock snatched the slim white stick from her fingers and snapped it in half, tossing it out the window. “You know the rules. Next time you need a ride, call Grayson.”
Mads scowled. “Fuck off, Taylor. Don’t get pissed at me because you have commitment issues. The guys at the race are going to be all over her.”
“This is for me. Not them,” I defended. I wasn’t looking for attention, but now that Mads mentioned it, I wouldn’t mind making Brock jealous. In fact, it sounded downright fun.
His scowl remained etched on his lips as he hit the gas.
* * *
Fynn whistled when he caught sight of me getting out of Brock’s car. “Sweet Jesus, you look hot.”
I tossed my hair over my shoulder, shooting Brock a sidelong gaze. “Tell that to Brock.”
His flat look annoyed me. “I never said you didn’t look good, Firefly. I said you didn’t need the attention.”
I returned his look with one of my own. “No one will be looking at me.”
Two seconds later Micah had me off the ground and in his arms. He twirled me once. “Damn, James. Leather suits you.”
It did. It really did.
“Tell me that you’re coming home with me tonight,” Micah purred, his arms still locked around me.
I pushed at his shoulders, but it did no good. “Only if you promise to put me down,” I muttered.
“Now that’s a promise I’m not sure I can make.” He flipped me over his shoulder, causing my ass to point up into the air, straining against my pants, and then proceeded to smack it.
“Micah!” I shrieked.
“Put her down,” Brock demanded, his voice harsh.
Micah chuckled. “You know she isn’t just yours.”
“She is in the way that counts,” Brock replied, a twinkle in his eye like he had the right to be protective, which he didn’t.
We might have slept together, but he had no claim over me. We were not dating.
Mads snorted. “Sex doesn’t mean shit to you.”
My feet hit the ground as three guys strolled up, ending the conversation. I recognized them from Public. Two of them had graduated last year, Todd and Weston. The other was known around school as Stitch. I had no idea where the nickname came from.
“Look who’s slumming tonight in the lower E,” Stitch greeted, clasping Brock’s hand first before moving to greet the others in the same manner.
“The fucking Elite,” Todd, of the older guys, said with a wry smirk.
“Should I take my money elsewhere?” Grayson flashed a stack of bills alongside a grin.
Stitch eyed the cash, dollar signs beaming in them. “You’re lucky you’re Sawyer’s little brother, man.”
Grayson left eye twitched at the mention of Sawyer, but that was the only tell he gave.
“Your brother was a goddamn legend on the streets,” Weston said with apparent admiration.
“He was,” Grayson agreed, a forced emotionless expression on his face. “Which is why I’m definitely winning this race. It’s in my blood.”
Stitch’s gaze landed on me. He took his sweet time looking me over. Tension radiated in the air suddenly, and Brock’s jaw tightened. It took me a second to realize the four of them circled me. I hadn’t even seen it happen. They were just there, surrounding me, but Stitch and his buddies noticed.