Pitbabes2, Chapter 3 pg9

   pg9

   CHARLIE:

   I could tell Babe had been acting off since we visited Way. On the surface, he seemed fine—still bright, chatty, teasing, and annoying others as naturally as ever. You could say he was good at fooling people. But to me, it felt like he was constantly sending me some kind of signal. Or maybe he was signaling without even realizing it. Since we got to Phii Alan’s house, I noticed Babe looking for me often, even though he knew I was somewhere around the house. When I asked, “Is something up?” he’d lightly shake his head and reach out to touch me, as if to make sure I was still close by. Though we’re usually inseparable, I was certain this wasn’t his normal behavior.

   “Want one?” I sat back down on the chair next to Babe, holding chocolate-covered strawberries we’d just made with Jeff. This was after Babe had craned his neck to look for me for the sixth or seventh time.

   “What’s that?” Babe squinted at the brown lump on a stick, not entirely trusting it.

   “Strawberries.”

   “Doesn’t look like it.”

   “They’re coated in chocolate.”

   “Who made them?”

   “Me and Jeff.” Satisfied with the info, Babe opened his mouth for me to feed him. He took a big strawberry, his cheeks puffing out like a squirrel stuffing walnut in its pouch, even more so as he chewed. “Tasty?”

   “Mmm, pretty good,” Babe replied, mouth still full. “But eating these with Pepsi like this, I’ll probably get diabetes before I die.”

   “No booze?” I just noticed that since the party started, Babe hadn’t touched a drop of alcohol. He’d been drinking fruit juice and soda, munching on the grilled food Phii Alan kept bringing out like a buffet. “I can drive.”

   “Nah, I promised I’d cut back on drinking.”

   “Honestly, having a drink once in a while isn’t a big deal.”

   “My heart’s not steady yet. Better hold off. If I drink now, I’ll lose control,” Babe said, taking a sip of his soda. Honestly, I didn’t think he’d take my request this seriously. The cigarette thing made sense since I was pretty firm about it, but alcohol? I never imagined he’d restrain himself even while surrounded by friends clutching their drinks like a third arm. Pitbabe is seriously strong-willed.

   “How’re you so good at this?” I nudged his shoulder playfully. “Trying to butter me up?”

   “Gotta do it sometimes. You butter me up plenty,” Babe replied casually. If he wasn’t my boyfriend, I’d say he’s one of the coolest big seniors out there. “I wanna hog you forever. If you’re gone too long, your life’d probably be too easy without me.”

   I love how Babe can make harsh words sound endearing. It’s one of his special talents that not everyone gets, because not everyone bothers to read between the lines.

   “Charlie,” North tapped my shoulder. His face was slightly flushed, probably from the alcohol kicking in. “Go grab some more beer.”

   “Already out?” I glanced at the ice chest, which had been packed with beer earlier but now held only a few bottles. It was barely 10 p.m. Were these guys drinking or bathing in it? “Why me, though?”

   “Because you’re the only one who hasn’t had a drop,” the YouTuber said matter-of-factly, as if it was obvious. I was dumb for even asking. “Ever heard of ‘don’t drink and drive,’ kid?”

   I couldn’t argue—he was right. Though, to be fair, there was one other person who hadn’t drunk, but North wouldn’t dare send Babe to buy beer. And even if he did, I’d still end up going.

   “Fine.”

   As if he had a sixth sense, Phii Alan walked by with a tray of food in his right hand and shoved some cash into my left hand with the other, striding past like the true big brother he is.

   The convenience store wasn’t far from Phii Alan’s place, less than a ten-minute drive. But honestly, it was kind of embarrassing to drive Babe’s car for this. In my head, the vibe called for a motorcycle or a dorky bicycle, but there was nothing like that at the house. So here I was, driving a multi-million-baht supercar to buy beer at the corner store like some show-off.

   Feeling pretty sheepish, I shopped like I was in a game show speed round. Beer and bags of snacks were tossed onto the passenger seat—Babe’s car only had so much space, totally unfit for hauling stuff. (Should’ve borrowed Phii Alan’s car instead; it’d be just as embarrassing anyway.) When I pulled back up to the house, I noticed an unfamiliar car parked out front. I could’ve sworn that spot was empty when I left, and no matter how I racked my brain, I couldn’t recall anyone on our team driving a car like that.

   The answer to my curiosity was sitting prominently among the X-Hunter team. A new guy was chugging a beer, chatting and laughing with everyone like he belonged. One glance, and I recognized him instantly—he was a racer from a rookie team. It was odd to see him here. I didn’t know we were chummy with other teams. (On average, other racers aren’t exactly fond of us.)

   “There he is! The beer delivery boy!” Sonic spotted me first, rushing over to help carry the stuff, with North trailing like a shadow. Thanks to Sonic stepping up, I got two helpers. “Thanks, handsome.”

   “How’d he get here?” I whispered to North, no need to specify who I meant.

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