A flash of yellow cuts through the trees ahead of me. Topher whoops and hollers like a banshee as he hops his bike over roots and sideswipes branches. The rest of us ride in silence, staying focused on the trail. Out here in the middle of the forest, it’s easy to let the clear air calm my mind until I forget about everything except the blood pumping through my body. At least it would be if it weren’t for Topher.

Mica laughs from behind me. “He’s going to break something.”

“Wouldn’t be the first time,” I reply.

Kurt calls from behind Mica, “Ten bucks says it’s a tire.”

A smile spreads over my face despite my heavy breathing. Kurt has an uncanny ability to predict what’s coming, but that doesn’t mean I won’t bet against him. “I call helmet.”

Mica laughs. “You’re horrible.”

“Not too late to get in,” Kurt says.

“Blood,” Mica says.

I burst out laughing. “That’s a given.” Another shout comes from farther ahead and I stand to pedal harder. As much as we joke about Topher crashing, I don’t actually want to see him get hurt.

The trail narrows into a series of switchbacks leading to our usual pit stop—the creek at the center of the forest. The leaves tickle my arms as I burst through the trees, the trail barely wide enough for me and my bike. Mica and Kurt are close behind me, breathing heavily. We always take turns leading and I get a rush knowing that even though I’m a girl, I make them work to keep up.

Kurt shouts between breaths. “Any… sign… of him?”

“Not yet,” I call over my shoulder.

“He’s probably swimming in the creek,” Mica says.

“He better have clothes on.” I shake my head at the memory of him skinny dipping in the creek last week. “One Topher peep show is enough.” He’d beat us to the creek and in crazy Topher logic, his bare backside was our reward. Kurt threatened to take off with Topher’s clothes so he’d have to ride back naked, and only gave them back after I practically dragged him into the creek. My cheeks flush at the memory. I’ve been one of the guys for so long they’ve forgotten I’m a girl, but lately something has changed.

A high-pitched shout echoes through the trees, snapping me back to reality. “Was that—”

“That was him,” Mica says, his voice tight.

We power down the trail, our tires so close we risk crashing into each other, and skid to a stop alongside the creek. Topher’s bike is halfway in the bushes, but he’s gone.

“Toph?” Mica calls.

A groan carries from beyond the trail.

Kurt stands near me. I reach for his arm to anchor myself and we jump apart like we’ve been shocked. We’ve wrestled and tackled and pushed and shoved more times than I can count, but that—that electricity thing that just zipped through me, and based on his reaction, did to him too—is new. But I can’t worry about that now.

Mica edges past Topher’s bike and crouches with his hands on his knees, studying something in the bushes. After several heart-stopping moments, he stands, smiling. “Jackpot.”

“A trifecta?” Kurt asks.

“Blood, tire, helmet.”

“Are you gonna just stare at me?” Topher whines from the bushes.

The three of us lock eyes, and without a word, move to Topher’s side and pick him up. Blood’s running down his arm and leg, and dirt’s smeared across his face beneath his cracked helmet.

“Hey!” He tries to squirm out of our grasp but Kurt and Mica’s arms are ridiculously strong—and mine aren’t too shabby either.

We step around the bikes and with one swing, toss him into the creek. Water splashes my legs and before I can register what’s happening, I’m flying through the air, Kurt’s arms locked around my waist. He twists before we hit the shallow water so instead of landing directly on the smooth rocks that cover the bottom, I land with an “oof.”

On him.

The cool water is a shock after riding, and I’m hyper-aware of the way the length of our bodies are pressed together, the way our limbs fit together like a puzzle. One of my long braids dangles in the water between us so I grab it and smack him in the chest.

He laughs, untangling his arm from my waist, and a tiny part of me yearns for him to put it back.

Friend Rule #1: No lusting after your friends.

Swallowing the unfamiliar emotions, I dunk his head under the water. I scramble over the wet rocks and am almost to dry land when his strong hand grips my ankle.

“Not so fast.” His voice is light, teasing, and my stomach does a weird flippy thing that unnerves me.

I pretend to struggle, but am quietly thrilled as he yanks me back to him. Instead of dunking me like I expect, he pulls me into a headlock and lightly smacks the top of my helmet. The boys started doing that years ago when they realized noogies weren’t as effective with a helmet in the way. His wet shirt is pressed against my face and while I’m enjoying the feel of his muscular arms, it’s time for retaliation. I dig my fingers into his side and he squirms away, laughing.

“That’s cheating!” His dark eyes dance in the light filtering through the trees, like he’s ready for more. But more what? Horsing around? Or something else?

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