Shift

One year later . . .

“Are you sure this is where you want to spend your prom? I really am cool going to the actual dance, you know?”

Michael Bosa is the most compliant prom date in the world.

“I’m seriously okay with being here instead,” I say, roaming my hand over the cold metal knob of the shifter. My eyes lower as we pull up to the Straights.

I graduate next week, and I’ll be out of here in days. I opted to start at Northern for the summer session. I’m sick of this place. Sick of turning around and expecting to see someone who is never going to show up.

What a fool I’ve been.

“It’s just, you wore that dress, and you look. . .” Bosa trails off. He’s still a little intimidated by me. He thinks I’m still Dustin’s girl. I haven’t been her in a long time. Maybe I never was. I was naïve to think I belonged to him so completely.

“How do I look?” I ask coyly. I bat my lashes, feeling the weight of the deep black mascara I layered on. I wanted to be someone else tonight. No, to become someone else. This girl doesn’t fall for anyone. She captures hearts and holds them in her hands for a while, but always sets them free. Love is an illusion. I’m not even sure my parents actually love each other anymore, and I always thought they were this perfect union. I’ve been watching them closely, though, over the last few months. They hardly talk, and when they do, it’s more like a messaging service.

Dad tells Mom what he’s picking up for di

Mom tells Dad that Tommy called and he’ll be home for the Fourth of July weekend.

They discuss paying my tuition, what’s left after my scholarship. They divide tasks and work well as a team. But is that love?

“Go on, Michael. Tell me how I look,” I say, drawing my tongue over my bottom lip to lure him. I won’t kiss him tonight, and I think deep down he knows it. I won’t kiss anyone ever again. I’ll flirt, to feel the heat of attention. I’ve learned that I like the rush I get from the control. Anything more than that, though, comes with a risk.

“You look hot,” he finally answers, his words tumbling out amid nervous laughter as he rubs his likely sweaty palms on the knees of his slacks.

“Good boy,” I say, reaching over and tapping his nose. I look away before he has a chance to make anything more of it.

“Now, let’s find a race,” I say, shifting into first and idling my way through the crowd. We’re not the only couple who opted for this over some dance at the Union Hall. I used to wonder if Dustin and I would have ended up here on our prom night. Now, I don’t care.

He was the ruler of this place. A legend of the lanes. Now, he’s a ghost. And I’ve got his precious car. I’m not entirely sure why Dad let me keep it when he towed it home from the impound lot. Maybe he felt guilty for being so hard on our relationship. Fu

Tommy did the wrap job for my birthday a few weeks ago, my eighteenth. I wanted the car to look nothing like it did when he drove it. Tommy made it midnight blue, almost black. The only hint at color can be seen under the right light, by the right set of eyes, thanks to the matte finish.

I spot our mark halfway down the gathering, pull into an open space and shift to park.

“Be right back,” I say, kicking open the door with my white Vans. I tossed the heels in the back the minute Michael and I left my house after my mom snapped about a million photos. Like I’ll ever want to remember this night.

“You want me to come with?” He leans across the center console, his blue eyes blinking up at me. I dare say, he’s handsome. Just not handsome enough. Not broken enough. He’s safe.

He works at his cufflinks, rolling up the sleeve on one arm, his jacket long abandoned to the tight back seat.

“Oh, I’ve got this. I’m a big girl.”

He lets out a smitten laugh, so when I shut the door I decide to cool it a little on the flirting. I can’t have him getting the wrong idea.

I’m not sure whether Aiden remembers me or not. I look a little different than I did a year ago when he shot out the tires that used to be on this car. My brown hair is closer to black now, and I’m wearing a lot more makeup than normal. Plus, I don’t think Aiden ever really looked at my face the night he fucked us over. I flash him a fifty dollar bill as I walk up and he looks beyond my shoulder, probably for my boyfriend. I shift so his eyes have to meet mine.

“Nope. Just me,” I say, giving him a crooked smile.

He chuckles and looks to his friend. I don’t recognize this guy, but he could have been there that night. Aiden, though, him I will never forget.

“Sure, honey,” he says, taking my cash and handing it to his friend for holding.

“Can I trust him?” I cock a brow.

“Either that or find yourself a different race,” Aiden says.

I hold his stare for a few seconds, and for a moment, there’s a glint in his eye that makes me wonder if he recognizes me. I nod finally and turn to walk away.

“No, I’ll take the race,” I toss over my shoulder.

Aiden’s learned a thing or two since last year. He’s probably been burned for cash. That’s the only reason he would make a big deal out of my question. Truthfully, I couldn’t care less about the money. The way I see it, I just bought myself about four minutes of unadulterated euphoria. It’s worth fifty bucks, win or lose.

I think I’ll win.

I’ve gotten pretty good out here. Tommy taught me how to tighten my shifting, and he spent time with my footwork so I got gear changing down to about three seconds. It’s nowhere near the two Dustin could pull off, but it’s faster than any girl I’ve ever seen out on the Straights besides Ava. She complimented me last month too. That must mean I’m doing something right.

“We’re on,” I say, climbing back in the car.

I’m sure Michael says something in response, but I don’t hear him. I’m already lost to the road. My legs tingle with the rumble as I reverse, giving the car a little gas to let people know I’m serious.

I flip around and line up at the usual start, my eyes glued to the empty stretch of roadway ahead as the Subaru, still covered in those goddamn stickers, crawls up next to me. A guy who used to lose to Dustin out here on the weekly passes between our cars and gets our nods, a silent acceptance of the rules. He makes his way out to the yellow dashes that jet out from between us, and stops in the glow of our headlights. His hand lifts, a white bandana tied around his wrist to make it easier to see.

My eyes haze, and my mouth curves. The smile is faint, and I feel drunk. Later, I will be. Never too drunk, but enough to tamp down the threat of feeling anything. I tarnish the memory of us every time I go to a party, every time I light up with my brother at a bonfire, and every time I sneak downstairs when my parents are asleep and I’m fighting with my demons. At this point, if Dustin Bridges shows his face anywhere I am, I’ll be unrecognizable.

When the bandana falls, I punch the gas and do as I’ve been taught. My hand moves slower, but it doesn’t matter. I’ll pass Aiden in the stretch, halfway back to home. And if I don’t, fuck it. Because this feeling right now? This is my love. This is my bliss. And it’s the only kind I’m ever going to get.