BECAUSE OF OUR ONGOING FEUD with Team Baker, Team Hunt didn't train at Moto Raceway.

I dominated our heat, cutting around the corner before gunning my way toward the finish. We practiced the way we raced, with the same level of intensity as we would if it were the real thing. It's what made our team so great, why we could race circles around our competition, including assholes like Jace.

I flew through the finish line, followed closely by Bear, then Morin.

I landed fluidly, tires kissing the dirt before veering right and off the track.

Sweat poured from my temples, collecting dust as it sailed along a hot breeze. I removed my helmet, squinting against the late afternoon sun.

It would be winter soon, which meant Snocross season was right around the corner. It also meant a lot of driving to and from school, late nights studying, and days of gruelling training in both the gym and on the track. As tiresome as it was, I loved it because it meant a week away–two if the roads were shit.

My head fell to my KTM–the orange, white and black matching my pants and jersey.

"You coming tonight, Hunt?"

I wiped the sweat from my brow as Bear and Morin rolled to either side of me. "Not tonight," I replied. I had a lot of studying to do and a reflection paper to write for my sociology class. Not to mention an essay for Dempsey.

Bear scoffed a smile—his ochre skin glistening with sweat. "Why you went to school, I'll never know. You're the best fucking rider in the league. You have sponsorships, endorsement deals, everything."

Because I needed to get away from the dictator who ran the house looming a few miles away. Raven's Pass was shit in the winter. Avalanches, freezing rain and reduced visibility made it nearly impossible to come home every weekend, which meant free time to do what I wanted. But I'd be lying if I said that was the only reason.

My mother's face crossed my mind. She wanted more for me—to experience the world and everything it had to offer, which was why my father allowed me to attend. Races were mandatory. If I missed one, my dad would skin me alive, but I could miss a practice or two.

Morin shook his bald head. "Come on," he urged, leaning over the handles of his green and white bike. "One drink."

"Or five," Bear said, raising mischievous brows.

For a moment, I thought. "My dad will kill us if he finds out," I warned.

Bear sniffed–forearms resting on his handles. "He's away on business. And it's never stopped you before."

I quirked a mischievous grin.

"Come on, Hunt. Everyone's going."

To the music festival down at Regency Park. Fall Coachella but on a much smaller scale. A way to attract tourists to our small mountain home during the low season. It ran all weekend. Tonight was the start, and one of my favourite bands was playing.

I didn't know, and my expression must have said as much because Bear said, "If you're not ready by seven, I'll knock your ass out and drag you there myself."

I laughed. And Morin said, "It's a couple of songs, Hunt. What's the worst that could happen?"

I grabbed my helmet, ready for another lap. "You paying?" I asked him—for entry and drinks.

"If it'll get you out of the damn house."

I never went anywhere when I was home. Part of that was because of my dad. The other was because I wasn't liked by most.

I grinned beneath my helmet. "Alright."

Bear sagged, a smirk on his face. "You planned on coming the entire time, didn't you."

I smiled, kicked the clutch, and revved my bike before taking off, leaving my teammates in a cloud of dust.

A/N: A music festival! I wonder what Nadine's doing tonight 👀