Page 61 of Jackrabbit

“Xavier.” Camila shrugged off his hands and pushed her hair behind her shoulders. “We’re all wearing them. Mami and papi, too. Wait till you see them, Colt, they’re beside themselves.”

“My first groupies.” Colt wrapped an arm around her shoulder and turned them both toward Beau, who was still leaning against the car with his eyes on the track. “Coach! Look at this. I have fans!”

“Don’t count as fans if they’re up your ass all day, every day at the shop,” Beau told him, a tiny smirk pushing up his mustache. “That’s called Stockholm Syndrome.”

Laughing, Colt’s eyes caught on Kendrick, who was halfway to snarling. “You’re still here? Home track rivalry is cute and all, but I’m busy. We can trade insults later.”

An official whistled, waving their clipboard. “Kendrick, you’re up!”

“Enjoy the show from the back of the pack, princess.” Kendrick's face twisted into something ugly as he backed away, eyes still locked on Colt like he was about to challenge him to fucking duel. “Try not to embarrass yourself too bad.”

Colt towed Camila toward the car, and she squeezed his waist. “That guy sucks.”

“He doesn’t matter to me.” Colt shrugged. Lightning cracked across the sky behind the stands. “Small fish, you know.”

“That small fish has teeth,” Beau said as he reached down and squeezed his own leg right above the knee. He looked up at the sky as he straightened. “S’gonna rain.”

“Beau, where’s your merch, huh?” Letting go of Camila, Colt gently kicked the toes of Beau’s boot. “Where’s the support? The fan service?”

“Your ego doesn’t need any more boosting,” Beau rumbled. He turned and shrugged off one shoulder of the windbreaker he was wearing to show the tip of a jackrabbit nose, and Colt’s heart kicked. Then Beau covered the shirt back up and crossed his arms again. “Showed up on my desk. Then on my toolbox. Then in my truck.”

“Like magic.” Colt grinned and Camila shook her head.

“Like Liam being a shit, more like.” With a nod toward the stands, Beau turned back to the track again to watch Kendrick qualify. “Go on and see your fan club. Kendrick is last, then they’ll give us the lineup.”

“Aye, aye.” Colt saluted him. “I’ll be right back.”

He and Camila waded through the bustling crowd toward the fence separating the racers from the audience, where they found a group all clustered in the front wearing those matching shirts. Xavier, Liam, and Camila’s mom were watching the qualifiers and mumbling to each other, but Joyce, James, and Camila’s dad were watching them approach with huge smiles.

Mateo, Camila’s dad, leaned over the fence the second they approached and pulled Colt into a bone-crushing hug. He kissed Colt’s cheek. “Look at you. So handsome in that suit.”

“I’m so glad you came.” Colt pulled away and rubbed the back of his neck. “Sorry about this last week.I’m—”

“Don’t worry about it.” Mateo ruffled his hair and gently swatted the side of his head. “But don’t do it again. I brought youpozole, and you didn’t even take it home.”

“Aw, my favorite,” Colt sighed. “Coach would hate me eating that.”

“Everyone gets cheat days.” Marisol, Camila’s mom, left Xavier and Liam to come give him a hug and a cheek kiss, too. “Papi brought more this time. Enough for two. Maybe share it with him, and he won’t say no.”

“Or share it with me, because I am but a poor, starving bachelor,” James piped in. He leaned against the fence with his arms crossed. “I—”

Mid-sentence, the sky opened up with no more warning than a rumble of thunder. Rain dumped on them in sheets, slamming against the stands as spectators yelped. A kid laughed, delighted, and Joyce pulled out a bag to start handing out disposable rain ponchos folded into tiny zip-locks to their party.

“Knew it was fixing to rain,” Joyce said, handing Xavier a neon green poncho. “My back never lies. Thought we’d have an hour or so, though.”

Colt turned his face up into the rain and closed his eyes. Like a drink of heaven after the humid afternoon, the water soaked his hair and sluiced down his neck. A flurry of activity was happening behind him. Whole teams were rushing back and forth with clipboards over their heads, number seven was attempting to hold an umbrella—which was nearly bending in the wind that was picking up speed—and half the drivers were staring at the rain with varying looks of wide-eyed worry.

“I gotta go,” Colt said to the group, whose ponchos looked like vibrant garbage bags with hoods. He grinned. “You guys look hot. Very trendy.”

He dodged a few swatting hands and jogged back toward Beau, laughing.

The windbreaker Beau was wearing had a hood, and it was covering Beau’s head now. He tracked Colt through the churning crowd of racers and their teams with both hands in his pockets.

“Should I be, like, worried?” Colt asked as he slicked his soaking hair back from his face and stood next to Beau. “Everyone’s freaking out.”

“Mhmm.” Beau reached into the cockpit and pulled out another windbreaker and a towel. He dropped the towel on top of Colt’s head and followed it with the coat. “They call rain the equalizer on the track. Evens the playing field somewhat, since most drivers train mostly in ideal conditions. Especially here. Last few monsoons were shit, and most of these folks have been racing on dry track.”

“You don’t seem worried,” Colt pointed out as he slipped his arms into the windbreaker that was very clearly Beau’s, considering how badly he was drowning in it. He kept the towel under the hood and roughly rubbed his hair and neck.