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I look at the guys and notice the confusion on their faces.
“What?”
“I don’t think any of us understood at least half of what you just said.” Dawson says, a confused look on his face.
I laugh, remembering how different our slang is. “Ahh, crook means sick. Munted means ahh...” I trail off trying to work out how to explain our slang. Having it just come so naturally, having to explain it to someone that doesn’t understand is… interesting. “Um, drunk, I guess. Then piss wreck is kind of like an alcoholic.”
The guys all nod but I can tell it takes them a minute to process still.
Dacre’s boldness and my acceptance of his affection must give courage to the other guys because one at a time, they come over and give me a hug. When it comes to Nicky, he gives me a look and I hesitate. His smile turns up, “Come here you little shit.” He says before rushing me. Nicky picks me up and swings me around, the laughter escaping me.
“Put me down you big Goliath before I throw up.” He stops spinning us, but he doesn’t let me go just yet. “Now you know how I felt after that drop bear stunt.” He says, quirking his eyebrow.
The other guys all laugh as Nicky puts me down. There is a huge smile on Dacre’s face. “You should have seen him, Scar. His eyes were blown, he started pacing; it was fucking hilarious.” He laughs.
“Shut up idiot. You weren’t much better.” Nicky growls back, giving him a pointed look.
“Don’t worry, the big bad drop bears don’t like Americans. ” I wink with a chuckle. Nicky’s head snaps towards me and that same earlier look returns.
“Oh, you are going to get it now.” He rushes before me but before he can get me, I duck under his arms and run out of the garage laughing. “Catch me if you can, big boy.” I yell over my shoulder.
The guys struggle to contain their amusement. It doesn’t take long for Nicky to catch me. I blame it on the fact that I’m hungover but in all honesty, it's because this guy is obviously fit.
He holds me in his arms before his hands sneak to my armpits. The motherfucker starts tickling me!
“Oooh, Scar’s a little ticklish, is she?” He taunts.
“Stop!” I plead, “Please... Nicky... Stop...”
He is relentless and doesn’t stop his torcher. “Not until you say, ‘Nicky, you are the biggest and strongest man and I’m sorry for pranking you.”
“Nicky… please...” I beg but he stays relentless. “Not what I want to hear.”
“Fuck… Nicky you are the… Biggest and Stro… Strongest man… Oh my god…” I attempt to repeat after him in between struggled gasps but I carry on in the hopes he will actually stop. “man, and I’m… sorry for pranking you!” I yell the last part and he immediately stops.
I put my hands on my knees and pant, attempting to catch my breath. “You're mean.”
“Aww come on baby.” There is a teasing edge to his voice.
“You're lucky you are cute.” I try to snarl but any heat is lost to the way my stomach still curdles.
“You think I’m cute?” My back straightens as I realise what I just confessed. The look on Nicky’s face looks like he just won a million dollars.
“Don’t let it go to your head big boy.” I retort attempting to save my ass but it completely flops.
“I think it's too late for that Scar.” Pike says coming to stand beside me. He hands me a bag I didn’t see before. I take a peak and almost die right there. “Ugh, breakfast.” I groan. “If there was coffee, I’d marry you.”
He laughs at that and sure enough, hands me a coffee that must have been in his other hand. Just goes to show how aware of my surroundings I am this hungover.
I snatch the liquid gold out of his hands. The minute the deliciousness hits my tongue, I let out a moan. I look up at Pike to thank him but notice the look of surprise followed by the heat so prominent in his eyes. I have to forcefully swallow the mouthful of scolding coffee down my throat, so i don't choke. I watch as his eyes track my every movement. The tension in the air is thick enough it could be sliced with a blade.
“What?” I question, looking from him to the other guys who I realise also share the same look. They attempt to shake it off but I can’t deny the way they looked at me. My cheeks redden under their now terrible attempt of acting casual. I decide to brush away any thoughts of deciphering what their gazes mean. It's too early and I’m too hungover.
“Alright, so these are the bikes.” I say directing them to where the bikes are lined up in the garage. Six in total. Just enough for each of us which is lucky. I don’t think any of these guys would have been interested in being backpack.
“My mates and I spent six months fixing these babies up. While they won’t win any beauty contest, they run like brand new.” I say running my hand along the seat of the bike I normally ride.
“The guys and I put a fuck load of blood, sweat and tears in them.” I smile thinking of the late nights spent working on them.
