Shay
“Shay, are you okay?” Bryson asked as we watched Bryce put his helmet on and get on his bike. It was beautiful. Matte black, sleek, and looked like something you’d see in a spy movie. He leaned forward, one foot on the ground as he revved the engine.
“Yeah, I’m just excited and worried about your friend. Why?”
“Well, if I was a lesser man, you’d have crushed the bones in my hand,” he said, chuckling.
“Oh, I’m sorry,” I said, trying to let go of his hand. He wouldn’t let go.
“No, I like your hand where it is. You don’t have to worry about Bryce, he’s a pro. We both race bikes. I’ve been doing it since I was a kid. He started doing it in his early twenties. When we met, I was surprised by how much we had in common. We quickly became friends, and now, I consider him my best fr
