Shifting Gears

6. The Date-Crasher

"Hello, my name is Katie, I'll be your waitress for the night!" a chirpy voice said to Reid and I. "What can I get you guys? Drinks? Appetizers?" she continued as she handed out two menus.

Reid rattled off what he wanted to drink, and I asked for a water. She smiled widely before saying she'll be right back as she left, letting Reid and I resume our conversation.

Yes, conversation. We weren't just sitting in awkward silence, or twiddling our thumbs as our brains cast around for something to say. I was actually having a great time. And Reid seemed to be enjoying himself, too.

But whenever I found myself smiling at him, my mind seemed to stick a hand up and say, "Hold up." I was dragged back to examine why exactly I was here, a mental finger poking myself and telling me that maybe I wasn't being fair.

Why did I go out with Reid? Did I like Reid? I thought maybe I'd be able to answer that question on the date.

However, as we progressed farther and farther, I found my laughs becoming friendlier, my talking turning to a conversation that I would talk about with a friend, my motives shifting from "on a date" to "hanging out."

And I don't think Reid's were like that.

"You're spacing, Cory."

My eyebrows rose and I blinked. "Sorry, just thinking."

"About?"

I took a sip of my cold water before answering. "This racing season," I lied. "You ready for the first race?"

Reid let out a long breath, leaning back on the booth seat across from me. "As ready as I'll ever be."

"You and Clay have really high chances."

"Glen's improved, too."

I nodded in agreement before replying, "But then..." My mind shifted to the newcomer already starting up a storm in the competition.

Reid swallowed his mouthful of soda, pursing his lips. "Yeah. But then."

"Is Clay overreacting?" I asked, tugging at the hems of my cream shirt, looking at my long blonde hair that fell in beachy waves over my shoulder. 

"Yes and no."

I rolled my eyes. "Thank you. Love those answers."

Reid gave me a goofy grin, his blue eyes sparkling as they reflected the lone light dangling above us. "Yes, because it probably isn't that bad. To be honest, Greyson is really good. But Clay is also really good. And they're both dedicated. They both want it bad."

I nodded slowly. "And the 'no'?"

"No, he isn't overreacting because..." Reid dropped into silence, his eyes straying away from mine.

"Because?" I prompted.

"Well, Greyson and Clay just don't have the best past."

"Because of racing?"

Reid's eyes became distant. "Yes. That's partly it."

Greyson Ryvers. I could've sworn I knew that name. And when I first saw him, something in my brain clicked—but it was one of those faces that you distantly recognize—a face that you don't know if you actually are acquainted with a look-a-like, acquainted with them faintly or long ago, or if you're just imagining it.

I hate those. It floats right at the edge of my brain, and I can't quite grasp it. It happened a lot because of my accident, and if I let myself dwell on the memories that were just out of my reach, a headache was surely to come.