“He’s fine.” Reese brushes the accident off. “He just went cement surfing.”
“That’s all?” I reply sardonically.
“That’s all,” he returns lightly, still not breaking eye contact with the screen.
By the last lap, my pulse is actually racing as fast as the speedsters. The energy the commentators are emitting is palpable as two men battle it out for first place, bobbing and weaving so closely it looks like their machines are kissing.
“C’mon! C’mon!” Reese yells as the British-sounding announcer bellows ‘the Yamaha pulls ahead.’ In a flash, the brightly-graffitied bikes speed across the finish line, and the checkered flag is waved.
“Yes!” Reese clenches his fist. “Yamaha. Winner.”
I regard him surprised. “I think that’s the first time I’ve seen you genuinely happy.”
“I’m not really. I’m dying inside. That should have been me, but at least the points stay in-house.”
“Points?” I repeat naïvely.
“Points determine the individual world champion. But the more races that are won by the sponsor’s team, the more publicity, the more money, the better engineers, and racers. Get it?”
“Got it. Winning makes the world go round.”
“In a nutshell.” He sighs.
“You look tired.”
“I guess I am a little.” He frowns.
“It’s normal.” I try to reassure him.
“I hate it. Makes me feel weak. Powerless.”
“It’s temporary.”
Reese doesn’t verbally respond, just pensively laughs to himself.
“Can you make me something to eat, please?” He actually asks nicely. I almost fall over.
“Sure. What would you like?”
“An egg white omelet with mushrooms, peppers, onions, tomatoes, and a quarter cup of cheese.”
“Wow, specific.” I laugh.
“Part of my diet.” He rests his head on the pillow and closes his eyes.
“Give me a few.”
His lips curve up. “Thanks.”
Holy crap, Reese Dane using his manners. He needs to watch racing more often.
I make his omelet to the T, right down to the quarter cup of cheddar cheese. I have to admire him; if I were in that hospital bed, I’d be scarfing down Doritos and chocolate cake. Wait, I don’t need to be confined to do that. I do it anyway.
I plate the omelet, then attempt a quick cleanup. Turning to put the eggs away in the fridge, I unexpectedly slam into a rock hard chest. I scream in fright, dropping the eggs all over the floor as the man in front of me cackles like a hyena.
“Where the fuck did you come from?” I put my hand on my chest, recognizing him immediately. He’s one of Reese’s barking friends.
“Kayla?” Reese yells.
“All good, bro. Just me!” the intruder hollers back. “Sorry, couldn’t help it. Just too easy,” he says devilishly. He’s not much taller than I am and has grease smeared all over his young-looking face. “Riley,” he formally introduces himself.
Right. Teardrop.
“Kayla.” I put my hands on my hips and look down at the floor.
“Sorry about that.” He starts to laugh again, as if uncontrollable.
“It’s fine.” I grab the hand towel off the oven handle and drop it over the leaky egg carton. “How did you get in here?”
“I walked through the front door.”
“Right, never locked,” I remind myself as I bend over and wipe up some yolk. Riley saunters into the other room as I trash the towel and grab Reese’s omelet.
“How bad?” I walk in on the middle of their conversation.
“It’s fucked up but fixable.”
“What is?” I hand Reese a fork and the plate.
“His bike.” Riley clues me in. “It’s trashed, but I can fix it. Just needs some new parts. I’ll order them tonight and have them shipped to the shop.”
“Sweet.” Reese takes a bite of the omelet. “If you have any issues, let me know. I’ll make a call.” He speaks with his mouth full. “Blech.” He makes a sour face and spits out a shell.
“Oops. How did that happen?” I react pseudo-sweetly. He glares up at me, but the look in his eyes is more entertained than annoyed. It really was an accident but so satisfying in the moment.
Reese takes another bite, this time unscathed. “This is actually really good once you get past the nails.”
“Glad you approve.” I couldn’t care less if he likes my cooking or not; he’s stuck with it for the next eight weeks.
Riley laughs again, his cackle hitting an all-time high.
“Relax, dude.” Reese chuckles himself, the sounds clearly infectious.
“I can’t help it. I like her.” Riley elbows me.
Glad someone does.
“What’s up with your friend?” I ask as I help Reese to stand. He needs to walk around to keep his muscles warm and avoid bed sores.
“Riley? He’s harmless. He’s been crazy like that ever since I met him.”
“How long have you known each other?” I ease the crutches under his arms and encourage him to move.
“God. Forever. Him and Knight. It’s always been the four of us. The Mad Hatter, Knight Rider, the Phantom, and the Doctor.”
“I take it Dev’s the doctor?”
“Yup. Pretty funny, huh? Never would have thought when we gave him that nickname he’d actually become an M.D.” Reese winces as he hobbles around the room. Judging by his frustrated grunts, it’s clear his recovery isn’t happening as fast as he would like.
“Why do you call him the doctor?” I keep him talking.
Reese chuckles. “When he was ten, a teacher at school caught him with a girl. They were on the auditorium stage behind the curtain. Dev was sliding her underwear down her legs, and when the teacher asked what he thought he was doing, Dev replied, ‘Playing Operation” Reese cracks up. “He’s been the doctor ever since.”
“Fitting. The story and nickname.”
“That was just the first of many doctor stories.”
“Please spare me the recap. I’ve already seen Dev play doctor in more ways than one.”
“Oh yeah?” Reese turns around and begins the trek back to me. “You and Dev ever play doctor and nurse naked?”
“Dear. God. No.”
“Why not? Not into my brother?”
“It’s not like that.”
“Then what’s it like? You had no problems playing nurse with me.”
I sigh, annoyed. “Are you ever going to let me live that down?”
“Never. But really? Why aren’t you into my brother?” he nags.
“I never said I wasn’t into him.”
“So you are into him?” he twists my words.
“Reese? What are you, twelve? Turning everything I say upside down?”
“Sometimes.” He laughs. “I need to entertain myself.”
“At my expense?”
“Yours and Dev’s.”
“You’re an ass.”
“To thine own self be true.”
“Please spare me. If you’re so bored, read a book. Use this time to educate yourself on a new subject. Manners, perhaps? Or maybe even common courtesy.”
“Nah, who needs those?”
“I guess not you when you have the world falling at your feet.”
“Yupppp.” Reese almost goes down, but I grab him just in time. “Damn.” He holds onto me as he tries to collect his bearings.
“What happened?” I guide him over to the bed.
“Just got a shooting pain in my leg all of a sudden. It’s gone now.”
I lay him down and grab him some water.
“Here. Maybe you should eat some more. Keep your strength up.”
“Yeah.” He nods with his eyes closed, the glass in one hand and the other over his heart.
“One-one thousand, two-one thousand, three-one thousand.” He counts quietly.
“Reese? Are you okay?” I feel his forehead for a fever.
“I’m fine.” He opens his eyes, but his look is vacant. “I think I just need some sleep.”
“Okay. I’ll start dinner. Dev should be home soon anyway.”
“Good idea.” He closes his eyes again and breathes shallowly.
I watch him for a few long seconds. He looks a little pale and weathered all of a sudden.
“Reese—” Just as I touch his shoulder, I hear the roar of an exhaust. I pull my hand back before Dev walks through the door. I meet him in the kitchen.
“How was your day?” he asks as he places his helmet back in the closet and kicks off his shoes. I watch sort of intrigued. For a moment, our interaction feels almost domestic. It’s very strange and surprisingly arousing.
“Eventful,” I inform him.
“Oh yeah?” He saunters over to me, and my insides actually stir.
“I watched my first motorcycle race, met the Mad Hatter formally, and helped Reese nearly avoid falling on his face.”
“That is an eventful day.” Dev is a breath away from me, fiddling with a strand of my hair.
Jesus, these two are going to be the death of me.
“Are you hungry?” I ask, attempting to deter the building tension.
“Oh, I’m starving.” Heat flashes in his eyes.
I walked right into that one.
“You’re home five seconds, and you’re already hitting on me?”