Page 118 of Fuckboy Psychos (Scarlett Force 1)
I even blow him a kiss as I pass by—not that he’s looking my way.
I lap him, too. And then I pull a showboater move, yanking my wheel and sending the Pantera spinning in a tight circle that sprays his windshield with mud and causes him to swerve wildly for a few seconds before he regains control.
It’s almost too easy.
Not that he isn’t skilled—he is—but it seems to me that he doesn’t have a lot of experience on a fucked-up, ratchet-ass track like ours. It’s one of the things I love most, how unpredictable it is. Every day, every race is different.
I wouldn’t mind being, like, a stunt driver or something. I could do movies, right? Can you see it: Scarlett Motherfucking Force in lights.
I make it a mission to see if I can’t lap Alexei a few more times, laughter bubbling past my lips as I hit speeds I usually don’t risk when it’s muddy like this. But with the fresh bulldoze from this morning, it’s not … Well, okay, it’s still dangerous as fuck, but I’m having far too much fun.
As soon as I hit my twentieth lap, I spin my wheel again, letting my car spin in wild circles as Alexei comes to a stop in the small circular area behind the finish line. I see him blur past as I spin until I’m dizzy, coming to a stop as I pant and laugh, putting my forehead against the wheel.
“Godzilla” by Eminem and the late Juice WRLD is playing now which really goes to show that the station has changed hands back to Wolfman. Milicent hates Eminem, says he’s a violent misogynist. I mean, he kind of is, but I like his music anyway.
“Normal during the day but at night I turn into a monster, huh?” I grin and sit up, making my way up the small drive back to the parking lot. Before I climb out, I crank the music as loud as I can get it, rapping the words along with Eminem and managing to keep up with him more or less.
“Show off,” Basti says, offering me a hip bump that I return, slapping both my palms against his and giving them a squeeze.
Alexei drives up beside me, rolling down his window a few, careful inches. His expression is neutral, even if his skin is slightly flushed.
“I’m going to give you my number; put it in your phone.”
“Is that an order, sir?” I ask with a roll of my eyes, but I take my phone out anyway and plug in his number when he gives it.
“I will have the dress and shoes sent to whatever address you choose. Text it to me. I’ll respond in turn with the address of the event, and we will meet outside approximately twenty minutes before seven. Do not touch me at any time during the event. Is that all clear?”
He turns to look at me, clearly used to giving orders and having people follow them.
Aww, too bad. He’s never met me before, now has he?
“I will do all of those things, but only because they sound agreeable and reasonable. Be careful, Alexei. If you piss me off, I might just touch you when you least expect it.”
“If you do, I will break your arm,” he tosses out with an imperious lift of his chin, rolling up his window as adrenaline-fueled laughter breaks out of me. Alexei takes off, but if he thinks that threat will intimidate me, he’ll be sorely disappointed.
He’s an intriguing challenge, one that I should put out of my mind right the fuck now. I don’t need any more challenges in my life.
Bohnes appears beside me again, offering up one of the weed lollipops that he won in his own race. I wave it away, sliding my tongue across my teeth, my mind already shifting away from Alexei and that ripe-ass mouth of his, and how I’m going to handle Lemon and the Kelly brothers in one place in one night.
“Remember what I said the first time you thought about killing that bastard,” Bohnes begins, unwrapping the lollipop for himself. Shit, that’s a heavy dose. How the fuck is he not completely out of it right now?
I glance back at him, raising my brow in query. He laughs at me, sliding the sucker from his mouth and reaching out to trace my lower lip with it. I lick the sweet candy taste from my mouth and Bohnes shudders in pleasure.
“I said, You can’t murder a rich boy in plain sight. Remember that when you’re rubbing elbows with the elite.” Bohnes snorts and moves away, heading for his Chevelle as I let out a small laugh of my own, sliding my hand over my mouth.
“Not that you seem to give a shit what I think,” Nisha accuses, appearing on my right while Basti takes up on my left. I glance her way, but she isn’t smiling. She doesn’t find anything about this situation funny. “But I don’t think you should go to that party. You know how Lemon is. The more you try to interfere, the more she pulls in the opposite direction. Besides, if Aspen was willing to give her a pricey ring like that, and let the pair of them be seen together on TV, maybe he really cares about her?”
