Azriel
That better not be what I fucking think it was.
I’m still staring at my hand when the driver rolls the window down.
“City house or country house?”
“City house,” I tell him. “Thomas will be waiting.”
“You coming along?” He asks.
“Are you kidding?” I snuff out a laugh and head down the alleyway. “I’ll beat you there.” After what I just felt, I need some serious thinking time, and I never think better than I do on my bike. Ripping up the blacktop has a way of calming my nerves.
But when I round the corner, some dumb son of a bitch is leaning against my chopper like he owns the goddamn thing. Just looking at him, I can tell he’s exactly the kind of person I hate. Which is just what I need right now.