Page 50 of Bend

Because in less just a few weeks, I have somehow managed to, meet my brothers I didn’t know existed, blow up their lives, make out with one Speed Demon in a bar bathroom, fool around with two others in a motel room, and agree to show up at the team garage today like I’m applying for a normal fucking job and not stepping into the most awkward group dynamic on planet Earth.

Honestly?

Pretty fucking iconic, but also deeply inconvenient.

Because now that the sun’s up and I’m standing here in a motel bathroom with last night still written all over my body, I can’t even pretend it was just some reckless blur I’ll laugh off later.

I remember all of it too clearly.

The heat in the room. Echoing breaths in the motel lamp light and the way the three of us kept looking at each other like none of us could quite believe we’d ended up there. The way Wolfe watched everything—steady, open, like he was letting me and Thorne set the pace even when I could feel how badly he wanted more.

The way Thorne cracked open by inches, then all at once.

God. That part’s lodged under my skin now.

The way he finally stopped fighting himself and the way he kissed like he was completely starved and also really fucking mad about it.

Then, when it was all over, everything kind of slammed into him.

That’s the part I can’t stop thinking about.

The look on Thorne’s face when he pulled away from us. From Wolfe. All panic and oh fuck, I actually did that. Like the reality of it hit him too hard and fast.

He left with all that panic written all over him, and I could tell it got to Wolfe too. I could see how badly he wanted to chase after him.

I know after one night, it’s pretty obvious Wolfe cares about Thorne a lot.

Like, a lot a lot.

The guy is easygoing, flirty and fun, sure, but underneath that he’s got a stupidly big heart, and it’s not subtle once you’re looking for it.

Watching Wolfe get hurt by it sucked too.

And yet, despite how hurt he was, he still texted me after he got home, just like I asked, and somehow that turned into us staying up talking way longer than either of us probably meant to. Nothing huge or deep. Just easy. We talked about random shit—music, my dump of a motel, and the fact that pineapple absolutely belongs on pizza no matter what he says.

He also spent a solid few hours pretending he wasn’t worried about me staying here, while being painfully obvious about the fact that he was.

Which is where the problem starts.

They’re all great in their own way, which would be cute if I weren’t currently lying to every single one of them.

So maybe the thing I should really be worried about this morning isn’t the garage.

Maybe it’s my morals

My phone buzzes on the edge of the sink.

Draygon:

Dinner tonight? Starting to get the feeling ur dodging me.

I close my eyes and let my forehead bump lightly against the mirror.

“You’ve got to be kidding me.”

Because this is the problem, isn’t it?

Not just that they’re hot. That would be manageable. Annoying, but manageable.