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Water splashes my suit. Beck grabs my arm and Tyler’s, tugging us a few feet away from the pool.
“Come on. It’s not about tigers or dolphins,” Beck says. “It’s about guys bonding at one of life’s great crossroads. Anyone who thinks a bachelor party is some macho flex before resigning yourself to one woman for the rest of your life is missing the point.”
“Which is?” Tyler asks.
“Harry here is ending being one version of himself and starting another. You went through this world alone. Making decisions for yourself, by yourself. After this wedding, the man who did that will be gone.”
I raise a brow. “That sounds extreme.”
“Is it? You don’t get to call the shots anymore.”
“Perhaps in some areas,” I concede.
“In all areas,” Tyler weighs in.
Well, that’s rubbish. But I take their point that some things will change when I marry Raegan.
I unfasten the top button on my shirt. “In that case… I have an idea.”
* * *
“If you fuck up this car, I will have your head.” Oliver leans over the cockpit as he checks the settings on the dash.
“If I fuck up my body, my agent will have your head,” Beck calls over the sound of engines.
My coat is back in the garage, and I’m strapped in over my dress shirt.
The three of us are lined up at the start line.
“One lap. No racing. Don’t go over eighty. This is a street track with tight corners and you’re worse than amateurs.”
“How is it possible to be worse than amateurs?” Tyler muses.
“You’re amateurs with money and egos.”
The red lights blink on, one at a time. Tyler grins, and Beck hollers his approval.
Oliver doesn’t do things halfway. Another reason I like him.
Adrenaline surges through me.
The fifth light comes on.
I hit the clutch and the car leaps.
I’m on the ground, or it seems that way. The center of gravity is so low the car kisses the pavement. Tyler’s on one side, Beck on the other.
Beck reaches the corner first—not because he’s the most skilled, but because I let him. I’m figuring out the car, testing out the settings Oliver showed us. Tyler is right behind him, followed by my brother.
“You’re doing great. Keep it controlled,” Oliver's voice comes over my headset.
We take another turn, and another. The Strip falls away as the track ventures into the desert. Overhead, the stars are faint, crowded out by the lights of the city. But the night is a dark carpet stretching over the landscape.
I pull up alongside Sebastian, catching a glimpse of his helmet.
Nostalgia slams into me.
“And I scored twice. In my first game.”
