Page 16 of Trigger Happy Ending

“Didn’t peg you for anything except a cunt with a god complex.”

He scoffs in amusement, unperturbed by my ruthless assessment. “Such a nasty mouth.”

“I’m a nasty girl.”

He laughs. That deep, unbothered, hot-as-hell laugh that slinks under your skin and rattles your bones. He jerks his head in invitation towards the open-air viewing area next to the pits and stalks off towards the vending machine.

Like I have a choice but to follow him.

Stepping into the viewing area, I unzip my jacket and shrug it off. I lay it over the fence and brace my forearms over the cool metal railing. My skin glistens with sweat, gluing loose strands of hair to the back of my neck. I roll my neck side to side, releasing the tension from the race.

Okay, fine. I’m tilting my hip and sticking my ass out slightly too.

Soren glides up next to me, holding two bottles of water, one in each hand. His eyes travel down my chest, waist, and legs, before slowly traveling back up my body. If I wasn’t so pissed he challenged me without my knowledge, maybe I’d have enjoyed the attention.

“Take a photo, it’ll last longer.”

Soren huffs out a breath through his nose and tosses me a water bottle.

I catch it, twist it open, and gulp the cool water down. Two racers zoom past us under the midnight moon. Soren braces his forearms on the railing next to me, water bottle dangling between his fingers.

“What are you doing here?” I ask.

“The same thing you’re doin’.”

“And what am I doing?”

He doesn’t answer, just chews his lip (ugh, hot-boy shit) and glances sideways at me.

I roll my eyes at his lack of response, but my stomach hollows out as I wonder if he is also dead inside and he’s here, reminding himself he is alive too.

“Ready for tomorrow?”

I can’t help it, my mouth curves into a smirk. “Yes, Daddy, I’m ready.”

Soren’s face twists into an expression of confusion. “What?”

I chuckle into my water as I take another sip. “Don’t worry about it.”

Something tells me Soren isn’t up-to-date on pop culture.

“What’s your story anyway?”

“My story?” I laugh. “What happened to the macho man act? We just spent five days together, and you barely spoke two words to me. Why would I tell you anything now?”

He swallows and turns his attention back to the track.

“Oh,” I mock. “Did I upset the big bad soldier?”

His eyes narrow as he remains focused on the track. A tell. His time in the military is a sensitive topic. I got him where it hurts. Good to know.

“You don’t know anything about me,” Soren mumbles.

“Nor do I want to.”

He kicks at a patch of loose dirt near his boot. It’s a strangely boyish movement, like a kid on a playground who just got told off. Except this kid could kill anyone here in seventeen different ways with a toothpick.

“Don’t be fuckin’ late tomorrow,” he orders.