Page 8 of Rush
"Where?"
"Just drinks with some of the program, nothing fancy."
I think about it for half a second, then I shake my head. "Can't. I've got plans."
"Let me guess, motorcycle club plans?"
"Old ladies’ family dinner, actually."
Maya grins. "You're living a double life—you know that, right? Postgrad student by day, biker chick by night."
"I'm not a biker chick."
"Your dad's the VP of a motorcycle club."
"In South Carolina, not here."
"Still counts." She goes back to her samples and I finish labelling mine.
The thing is, she's not wrong. I do live a bit of a double life here. But I like it that way. It keeps things interesting.
At Trinity, I'm just Everly, the American girl who's decent at immunology and drinks too much coffee. At the clubhouse, I'm Diesel's daughter, which comes with a whole different set of expectations.
I prefer the Trinity version most days.
I pack up my stuff around five and head out. The bus to the clubhouse takes forty minutes, and I use the time to decompress, days like today the parking is awful, it’s easier to take the bus than be stressed trying to find a parking spot.
My phone buzzes with a text from my dad.
Dad: You good?
Me: Yeah, why?
Dad: Just checking. Pyro says you've been settling in well.
Me: Pyro's a gossip.
Dad: He's looking out for you.
Me: I know. I'm fine, Dad. Promise.
Dad: Good. Love you, kiddo.
Me: Love you too.
I pocket my phone and stare out the window at the Dublin streets flying past.
My dad worries too much, always has. Being the only daughter of a motorcycle club VP comes with its own brand of overprotective bullshit, but I learned how to navigate it years ago.
Smile and nod, then do what I want anyway.
Works every time.
The clubhouse is packed when I walk in. It's Friday night and apparently that means everyone associated with the Vipers is here.
I spot Chloe near the back with Gráinne and Caoimhe. They wave me over and I weave through the crowd.
"There she is," Gráinne says, pulling me into a hug. "How was your week?"
