Page 36 of Revv
His tone says the complete opposite.
The garage is loud behind us, music playing near Echo’s toolbox while tools hit metal and engines warm up across the bays. Tires are stacked against the wall, spare fairings hang overhead, and setup sheets are clipped beside every bike.
Same shit we do before every race.
Everyone gets louder, Andre gets more pissed off, and Echo threatens to kill anyone who touches a setting after she’s finished with it. Next weekend’s packed with practice, qualifying, and races, but none of that is new.
The waiting is the part I hate.
The days before the race when everything is ready, but we still have to test it again. And again. Then stand around pretending we aren’t counting down until the lights go out.
I grab my gloves and head toward my bike while Thorne moves toward his. Talon and Reign are already pulling off their tire warmers, and Sayshen is bent over his tank with one hand pressed to his forehead.
I stop beside him and give him a once-over. “Looking sharp.”
“Fuck off.”
“How the fuck did you even ride home that drunk?”
“I wasn’t drunk when I rode home.” He pushes his sunglasses up. “It was after me, Talon, and Bex got back. We kept the party going.”
I glance over at Talon, who suddenly looks real busy with his gloves. “Yeah? Kept it going how?”
Sayshen smirks. “Drank more. Did other shit. Didn’t sleep.”
“Got it.”
“You sure you’re good to ride, or should we strap a bucket to the front of your bike?”
He turns his head slowly, glaring at me through his sunglasses before pulling them off and tossing them onto the workbench. “I’m beating your time now just for that,” he says, dragging his helmet down over his head.
I grin and clap him on the shoulder. “There he is.”
“Fucker.”
Andre’s voice comes through my earpiece before I’ve even swung onto the bike.
“Comms check.”
“Unfortunately, I can hear you,” I say.
Andre ignores me. “Talon?”
“Good.”
“Reign?”
“Clear.”
“Thorne?”
“Yeah, mate.”
“Sayshen?”
There’s a pause.
Then, “The inside of my helmet is too loud.”
