8. Ava

8

AVA

E ven with all the background noise from the race, the silence that followed Cruz's statement was palpable.

He was one hell of an actor or had no idea what we were talking about. He looked at us expectantly, his eyes going from Micah to Grayson and lastly landed on mine. Something about it had me wanting to take a step back. Not because I was scared, but there was an intensity to him that called for attention.

"Have you guys been getting texts?" he asked.

At this question, the three of us looked at each other. We didn't need words to express how we felt. With just our gazes, we could agree that letting Cruz in on what had been going on was not a good idea.

For all our differences, Micah, Grayson, and I had been on the same side of the boat that day. In a weird, fucked-up way that made us allies—there was also the fact we ran in the same circles, and Cruz was an outsider.

"Forget about it," Micah said as he put a hand behind my back, trying to get us to turn around.

Cruz took a step toward him. Micah seemed as nervous as I felt by the action, but he didn't flinch away from him. Cruz didn't bother to look at any of us—his gaze was on Micah, and Micah only.

I wasn't the only one wary of his actions. Grayson's jaw clenched, but like me, he didn't try to fight Micah's battles.

Cruz looked Micah up and down, then smirked at him.

"What? You got tired of frolicking around on the other side of town, and now you want to run back to Daddy?"

"What the hell is your problem?" I snapped.

I could feel Micah's fingers dig into my side as a warning.

Cruz might go to school with us, but he wasn't one of us. That much was clear. How did that saying go? Two could keep a secret if one of them was dead. The unknown variable here was Cruz Martinez.

Cruz didn't turn his profile toward me. He just craned his neck and did the same thing as he did to Micah. The way his eyes roamed over me was almost predatory, like a hunter playing with its food right before it tore it to shreds.

"My problem, princess, is that you all made up your fucking minds the moment you saw me. You just came here to try and ease your own guilt."

Rage and shame coursed through my body. I loathed the way he spat the nickname. The way his eyes saw right through me and dismissed me.

"Back off, Martinez."

Grayson had enough. He put his arm in between Cruz and Micah and then forced him to step back from us.

Cruz didn't seem intimidated by Grayson's actions. His chuckle made goosebumps spread through my body.

"Protecting your girlfriend?" He raised a brow at Gray. "Or boyfriend."

Micah's cheeks instantly flushed at the word, and that was what made Grayson snap. Both he and Cruz started to go at it. Fists started flying, and both their bodies became a blur. I took a step forward, stupidly thinking I should stop it, but hands on my hips stopped me.

"Stop, you'll only get hurt," Micah warned me. His soft command in my ear caused shivers to spread down my body.

He was right, but it still aggravated my nerves. Mostly because this was not what we came for. Boys and their stupid fucking egos.

The fight would have probably kept going on if several people hadn't begun to shout.

"Fuck," Micah swore, and I shared the sentiment.

"Cops are coming," someone yelled at us as they passed by.

He was the first of many because then a stampede of people started to rush their way toward us.

"We have to get out of here," I hissed in full panic mode.

If I got caught here, my skating days would be over.

Fuck.

We would all be fucked.

Grayson would be kicked out of the team, and Micah would not be allowed to publish for the school—not to mention Micah's dad would have both their heads as coach and father.

My heart began to beat faster at the stark reality of the consequences catching up to me. This little event seemed so singular, but it led down to a dark path. Trying to ignore what had happened last summer would no longer be a viable option.

Hell broke loose when your coping mechanism failed you.

"We have to get out of here."

I recognized Grayson's panicked tone, yet he sounded so far away. My body began to sway, part of my own volition, the other from the force of the incoming traffic.

"Ava!"

Water.

It suddenly felt like I was falling underwater, making it hard to hear.

"Come on, princess, we need to get out of here."

The words were spat as if I were an inconvenience. Fingers dug into my arm as I was being dragged away.

My eyes began to blink furiously as the haze from my panic attack began to subside.

The tracks were a mess of people and cars trying to make their way out so they wouldn't be caught here. Sirens could be heard in the distance, all of them heading right to where we were.

"Micah," I breathed his name as a prayer. I scanned the area, trying to see any sign of him and Grayson, but the place was such a mess that I couldn't make out either of them.

"Are you trying to get caught?" Cruz spat at me.

That was when I noticed that subconsciously I kept trying to get away from him.

"I don't know you," I stated, proud that my voice came out even.

"Well, princess," he said with disdain. "Your two boyfriends have left you. So you got me or you got jail."

My jaw clenched, and I really wanted to wipe the smirk off his stupidly handsome face—but he was right. Right now, he was the only option I had.

"I don't trust you," I told him, and he scoffed.

"You skate pretty fast," he mumbled, and his words surprised me yet warmed me deep in my belly. I almost scowled at him for it. "Now keep up, princess."

Cruz Martinez let go of the grip he had on my arm, only to take my hand in an equally deadly grip. We took off running. He was pushing people aside so we could get through quicker. We reached his car a few seconds later. He made sure to open the passenger door and once I was inside, he slammed it shut and took off to the driver's side.

He had an older Civic. If I had to guess, I'd say it was from the nineties. The color was black and shiny. You could tell that the car was restored with care and lots of love. The leather was buttery soft. The dashboard gleamed with no specks of dust anywhere. When he turned the car on, it purred to life and I could feel the vibrations between my legs. I shifted in my seat, and from the corner of my eye I could have sworn he bit his lip.

"Buckle up," he spoke, breaking the silence.

I did as he said, and the car took off. That was when it hit me that I was alone with Cruz Martinez, who may or may not be the one threatening us.