He reaches his hand out, gripping my shoulder tightly. “You’re not racing girl. Far too dangerous.”
Oh my god is he serious right now, I’m not going to stand for any of this bullshit patriarchal crap, especially not from some douche who’s my own age. I can’t believe this is the same guy I spent all last Friday night flirting with. “Bullshit. I’m racing. Just tell me if I can bet on myself to win.” I snap, getting annoyed.
“The racers are allowed one bet per race, but you aren’t a racer so put that helmet away and go stand on the sidelines.”
“I am a racer and when I win this bitch, you’ll be eating your words.” I storm off, jumping into my buggy and drive it over to the starting position behind five other buggies. A few more pull in behind me, blocking any hope of escape which brings a smile to my face. Whether the dickhead, Kal, likes it or not, I’m now firmly in the race.
Speak of the devil, he storms over to me and growls, “Suppose you think you’re pretty clever, huh?”
“How about that bet then, when I win, you back off and let me race any time I want. And here.” I toss the money at him, along with the grand I won from a poker game at the local bar. “Put a K on me to win.” I deliberately turn my back on him, pretending to be checking something on the other side of the buggy so he can’t argue with me.
Ten minutes later and I’m practically a ball of nerves. The racers are all ready to go, the dancing chick has done her thing and then the gun goes off. My foot hits the floor, my hand pumping through the gears without a thought. Music keeps me grounded as I drive, everything else fading away until it’s just me, the music and the track in front of me.
I don’t even realise until my wheels cross the finish line that I’ve won. Not just won, I’ve kicked their asses by a good mile.
With my winnings and pride firmly intact, I leave them all behind and make my way back home.
I wake up to the sun shining brightly through a gap in my curtains. I feel like death warmed up, but I guess that’s pretty normal considering who and what I am. I snicker at my own joke as I climb out of bed and begin my morning routine.
Just as I’m finishing up in the shower, I hear a noise in the house. I’ve been alone for the last couple of weeks, but it sounds like my neighbours have finally arrived. My mood lifts as I quickly throw on the first thing I can grab, a skin tight black dress that shows off all of my curves. My big black boots, followed by a quick brush of my hair.
I practically bounce out of my room only to stop dead in my tracks at the raised voices coming from the direction of the kitchen downstairs. “Who the fuck touched my stuff? Nothing is where I left it.” The voice is definitely male but it’s the kind of voice that makes me think of Kevin from that comic book TV adaptation. It’s swoon worthy but has that distinctive gay vibe. I pause on the stairs, hoping to hear more before I show myself.
“Calm down Princess, the cleaning staff probably rearranged things.” And there’s my confirmation; I can’t think of a single straight guy who would let another man get away with calling him Princess. The guy who spoke has the deepest voice; it’s the kind that brings goosebumps to your arms, so smooth and well, it’s basically audio porn.
“And I suppose the cleaning staff left the dirty bowl and spoon in the sink with dregs of ice cream in it too then.” Princess snarls.
I climb back up a few steps before giving my boots a good stomp to alert them to my presence. As I round the corner my steps falter. Dark eyes find mine as the god in front of me tilts his head. His gaze travels over my body as though he’s sizing up his prey. For a split second, I feel like prey, then the guy I can only assume is Princess, steps in front of the god, shoving him to the side as he literally wraps me up in a hug.
“If I’d known the person messing my kitchen up was a stunning beauty like you, I’d have kept my mouth shut.” He swings my limp form from side to side before adding, “We’re going to be best friends, so you might as well tell me everything about you now.” He finally lets me back down and my legs feel like jelly for a moment before I’m steady again. He’s gorgeous, his hair is this really light, almost golden brown. His eyes are big chocolate orbs framed by the thickest lashes I’ve ever seen. But it’s his face that has me falling head over heels in seconds. He’s a cherub beauty with baby features and the most adorable smile I’ve ever seen. “Well, I guess I’m not the prettiest vamp around anymore.” His laugh is so contagious that I find myself smiling back at him.
“Who the fuck are you?” The god demands as he crosses his giant arms over his equally huge chest. He’s so intimidating, yet sexy and rugged all at the same time.
I want to run screaming in the other direction. I want to crawl into his lap and beg him to make me scream his name all night long.
I don’t want any of those things.
I’m so fucked.
“Alissa Collis.” I finally manage to say, directing my words to Princess and ignoring the god beside him who makes me forget how to breathe.
“It’s truly a pleasure to meet you Alissa, I’m Princeton Forsythe, but everyone calls me Princess, I’m sure you can guess why.” He laughs giving a little twirl and curtsy. It takes everything in me to stop the giggle over his name from escaping, his parent’s must have expected great things from him to give him a name like Princeton. “The big brute over there is my brother and best friend, Braxton Forsythe.”
Braxton… Like Braxton hicks, the false labour women go through as their bodies prepare for birth?I barely manage to snap my mouth shut to stop the words from escaping. These two had some seriously cruel parents.
“He looks scary but he’s actually a big cuddly teddy bear.” The grunt coming from Brax makes me believe otherwise. My eyes practically glaze over with lust as he flexes his muscles before uncrossing his arms. Shaking myself from my lustful thoughts, I give Brax a thorough once over before turning back to Princess with a smirk, “Your brothers cute but he’s in need of a good makeover, those shoes just do not go with those pants.” I mock gasp as I look pointedly at Brax’s bright red shoes and his dark wash jeans. Truthfully they suit him; Like a tiny spark of his personality is shining through his all dark exterior.
“Yup, besties for life, come on girl, show me that wardrobe while Brother Bear cleans this place up a bit.” I’m dragged out of the kitchen and back up the stairs before I can even protest. Princess takes me into my room and then flings the cupboard open. Normally I’d be freaking out over some stranger being in my personal space, but there’s something about Princess that just puts me at ease, as though I’ve known him far longer than the past few minutes.
The ear-piercing scream that leaves his throat is enough to make me cringe and back away. “What the fucking duckies is this shit?” He gasps just as Brax runs in, giant knife in hand and a look of pure murder on his face. “Brax, it’s horrifying,” Brax creeps closer, his face a mask of fury. “She has like three outfits. Three!”
“Clothes? You screamed like you were being murdered over clothes?” Brax snarls under his breath, mumbling as he exits my room. I catch the word “Crazy.” And the word “Clothes” repeated a few times before he’s out of earshot.
“Just so you know, I have seven outfits, I’m wearing one, got one in the wash and there’s a dress right there hanging up.”
“That’s only six, honey.” The disgust in his voice is so obvious I can’t help but laugh, “Well it’s seven if you count my racing gear.” I shove the pile of gear off the chair near my desk for emphasis. It clatters to the floor like a sack of potatoes. I giggle at the noise it makes. I’ve always wanted to do that, push things around like they don’t mean anything despite the fact that they’re some of my most prized possessions.
“We need to fix this atrocity, stat!”