After Curfew

Chapter 26 - The Tracks

Chapter 26 - The Tracks

"Willow. Stop being stubborn and take the money." Slate said for the hundredth time as we trailed behind the rest of the guys, making our way to the starting line.

I ignored the 50 dollar bill he was holding out in front of me and continued walking, causing him to release another annoyed sigh. He stepped in front of me forcing me to stop abruptly so I wouldn't knock into him. Now it was my turn to sigh.

"Slate, stop it. I think we both know I can easily afford a couple of burgers and milkshakes." I said stepping to the side so I could get around him. Once again, he blocked my path.

"We also know that the rest of the guys and I can afford to pay for our own food. I don't know what your last boyfriend made you think—" I rolled my eyes at his obvious jab at West "—but a gentleman always pays for the woman's food, not the other way around."

"Fine. Then take it as an apology, not a favour. I didn't know West was the new racer, okay? Our relationships complicated." I said sighing as I stared into Slate's gorgeous blue eyes. I always preferred blue to green.

"Your relationship with Ryder is none of my business." Slate said, his words coming out forced. I thought he was going to keep the fifty dollars but instead he reached behind me and tucked it into the back pocket of my ripped skinny jeans. I rolled my eyes for the millionth time today but my eyes widened when I saw his hand come back with my hotel room key card between his fingers. We both stared at the piece of plastic in his hand for a couple of seconds, neither of us saying anything.

"What the fúck is this?" Slate finally asked, his words harsh as he held up the piece of plastic that read 'Royal North Hotel" in front of my face. I quickly grabbed the card from his hands and pocketed it but I knew the damage was already done.

"Slate, don't make it a big deal..." I trailed off, despite a small part of me hoping he'd get mad. Maybe that makes me a terrible person, but I can't help the fact that I find him insanely hot when he's mad.

"Please tell me you reserved a hotel room for your brother and that's why you have that key card in your pocket." Slate gritted out and I gave him a guilty half-smile that was an answer in itself, I could've made up an excuse but I think I'd done more than enough lying for a lifetime over the past few months. Slate ran a hand through his dark hair out of frustration and took a step closer to me, intoxicating me with his cinnamon scent.

"Since when?" Slate asked, clearly making an effort to be understanding, which made me smile a bit. I knew the only reason he got mad over things like this is because he was worried about me being all by myself in a hotel room downtown and after the whole green room incident, I couldn't exactly blame him.

"Only since Sunday." I replied, trying my best to look everywhere but his lips. The deep growl he released let me know he was not content with my response.

"Why'd they kick you out this time? Did you use the wrong fork at dinner?" Slate said harshly, clearly taking a shot at my parents for being the exact stereotype that usually accompanied the word 'rich'. I couldn't help but smile. I noticed Slate's gaze linger down to my upturned lips and I realized my self-control was wearing very thin, if I didn't get to taste his lips soon, I might just die of anticipation. Okay, maybe I was over exaggerating.  It's probably a symptom of withdrawal.

I felt my posture becoming impossibly straighter the longer he stared at my lips. Maybe it was the fact that his shoulders were still clearly tense from the anger he felt towards my parents for mistreating me or the fact that protectiveness was rolling off him in waves but suddenly West's name meant less than nothing to me and all I could think about was how goddamn far Slate's lips were from mine.