Shift

I fumble for my keys in my pocket and ignore Ha

I speed to the stop sign and slam on the brakes, burnt rubber leaving a billow of smoke outside my back window. I’m panting and my chest hurts, it squeezes so hard. My eyes catch movement in the rearview mirror and I tilt it enough to see Ha

“Fuck!” I shout, fist pounding the steering wheel. I shift gears and turn the opposite direction from school, to the Straights where I can go for miles as fast as I want, until the world catches up with my racing heart.

My eyes shift to the mirror as I pull away, and though I see Ha

The speedometer reads one-ten by the time I hit the outskirts of town. It’s flat enough around here to see the cops coming, so I give it more gas and get the Supra up to one-thirty, flying through the few stop signs out on the desert roads that nobody drives on. I downshift as I approach the empty two-lane highway and rumble to a stop at the junction, the vibration of my engine like a salve to my broken heart and soul.

I’m not good enough.

I want one thing in this world, and I’m not good enough for her.

The tears threaten to come again, so I run my thumb knuckle under my eyes and push everything that feels to the depths of my body. No heartbeat. No breathing. Nothing but me and the tread of my tires. I shift fast, peeling out again with a hard left and I straddle the dotted yellow line down the center of the only place left I have to feel at home.

My eyes lock on the flat rocks of the mountains miles and miles ahead. My right hand works with my legs, every new gear upping my speed until I’m cruising as fast as I was the night I beat the Vegas guys with Ha

I love him.

My eyes flutter but I keep roaring forward. I heard the words she said, and for the tiniest of milliseconds, my heart swelled with such a foreign drug—I was high from hearing her use that word about me.

“Fuck!” I scream again, pushing the Supra to its max extremes. The ride isn’t smooth, but I like it. It reminds me how fragile this balance is, how close to a dangerous line I can get and how much power there is to be gained in inches.

In seconds.

I love him.

A weight suddenly falls from my heart to the pit of my stomach and I let off the gas completely, gliding on the asphalt while my eyes blink at the road ahead.

I love him.

Nobody has ever said that to me before. My mom never told me she loved me. The only thing Colt loves is beating me and stealing anything I value. I’ve never had grandparents, or aunts or uncles. Even the Judges, through all these years, have never said they loved me.

Ha

My eyes flicker to the mirror—nothing. I’ve gone too far to see whether Ha

A figure forms. It’s her. Her car is there. She’s there.

I let up on the pedal and glide along the roadway again, this time dropping my hands to the bottom of the steering wheel while I sit back in my seat and let out a quaking breath.

Someone thinks I’m good enough.

Once I’m maybe a hundred yards away, I roll to the edge of the road and kick open my door. Ha

“I’m so sorry,” I plead, moving my hands into her hair and walking her backward until she falls against the side of her car. My lips are on hers before she can respond, and I lean into her body, kissing her so hard that she gasps for air in the only break I give us. Her chin lifts to meet my height and she clutches at the sides of my T-shirt, wadding it into her fists while our lips tangle between the whimpers of her cry and repeated whispers of apology from my mouth.

Her hands claw their way up to my face and she tangles her fingers into my hair, holding on as if I might run away again. I can’t promise I won’t. But I will never doubt her.

She loves me. She said she loves me. The only person who ever has.

We kiss in the middle of the desert under the scorching morning sun, not a cloud for miles. I’m breathless and so is she, but neither of us wants to break. Our kiss is hungry, and I hope mine tells her the things I can’t yet say, things I don’t know how to say. I love her, too. I want to scream that I’ve always loved her. That she is the one person I can confide in, the person I run to, and the only thing that keeps me from following in Colt’s dark footsteps. But saying that—laying all of my baggage and bullshit on her heart like that when I’m nothing—isn’t enough. I need to be worthy, to be the man she sees in me.

So instead I say I’m sorry again, and again.

It seems to be enough, or she seems to understand the deeper meaning, the truth beneath the surface, because she accepts me.

“It’s okay. We can do this,” she utters, her lips clinging to mine even through words.

I don’t have the heart to tell her I don’t think it is and I’m not sure we can. The way her parents reacted, her brother’s warnings? Those aren’t without reason. They love her, just as she loves me. Just as I love her. They see the risk that comes with my future. If it were only my dream, my need to push myself to the edge of danger for a taste of victory, they’d learn to live with it. But that’s not what made her father pound his hand on the counter. It’s because of who I am and what I’m made of; or rather, who made me. I come from nothing and know little about affection. I’ve never had it, other than the small strands the Judges have given me. I’m the son of a drug addict and a drug dealer. The offspring of a man so vile that people around our town know him simply by his first name. Businesses tell him to leave before he speaks. Criminals point at him and shoot invisible pistols at his head with threats to do it for real. One day, they might. They’ve tried.

My genetic code is written with so many flaws, it’s a miracle Ha

“I’m go

She breaks away, her head rolling against mine, and I feel the stretch of her smile along with her breathy laugh.

“You sure?” Her lashes flutter against my skin and I can tell she’s glancing up at me. I pull away enough to lock our gazes.

Her hair is a mess from my hands twisting it into knots and the slight, warm breeze blowing in from the south. I sweep the wild strands from her face with both of my thumbs, then rest my palms on her cheeks. My eyes study her pink skin, the raw puffiness of her lips. I move my thumb to her mouth and brush it against her pout. Her lips quiver against my touch.