The Fine Line by Alicia Kobishop

wasn’t sure if he was trying to be funny, or suave, but the exaggerated puppy-dog look he gave me brought an unintentional laugh out of me.  Actually, it was more of a snort, but the expression of victory in Logan’s face after it came out of my mouth—and nose—made the embarrassing sound worth it.  I was beginning to doubt he could ever bore me.  My subconscious could shove it.  Just for tonight. I had to have more of this boy.  “Alright, Zoolander, take me away.” 
    After putting the embers out with the garden hose, we climbed into his Mustang and drove off.
     
     
    Chapter Seven
     
     
    It was dark out but still warm enough to have the windows down, and the breeze felt refreshing on my skin.  The colorful glow of the city lights reflected on the interior of the car as we moved.  A blues song played on the car stereo as we drove through the city.  The waves of the wind pushed against my hand as I held it out the window
    Logan’s fingers tapped on the steering wheel to the beat of the music, then he looked at me and busted out singing the words of the song.  I giggled at the face he was making as he sang. He was so into it.  The words were something about “riding with the king.”
    “Oh, now I know what you really think of yourself!” I joked.
    “It’s B.B. King, Liv!  He’s the king, not me!” he defended, pretending to be hurt.
    I found it intriguing that someone my age would be listening to blues.  Logan seemed so different from other people my age, and for the first time ever, I was interested in finding out more about a boy.  As the song ended, Logan turned the volume down.
    “The phone call that Gavin took earlier…It was for a race, wasn’t it?” I asked.
    Logan looked at me and nodded.
    “Why do they call Gavin?  Why don’t they call you?”
    He shrugged.  “Gavin is better with the negotiations.  I’m better at the driving.  It works well for both of us.”
    “You didn’t go tonight.”
    He looked at me and smiled.  “I guess I had better things to do.” 
    “What about the police?  Isn’t street racing…?”  I decided not to finish. We both knew it was not exactly legal.
    He chuckled.  “I’ve got nothing against cops.  Police are good.  We just don’t want to see them during a race…or before or after a race, for that matter.”
    “Isn’t it a little risky, though?  You never know when they could show up.”
    “We take precautions.  I don’t race unless there are spotters around to let us know if police are coming close.  We change the location as much as possible.  There is always a risk, though.”  He paused.  “The real risk is dealing with some of the idiots that want to race.”
    “What do you mean?”
    He shifted in his seat, beginning to look uncomfortable.  “You never know if the other guy is on something or if he even knows how to handle his car.  Among other things.  The police are the least of my concerns.”  He looked at me.  “I almost called off the race last week.  The one that you came to.”
    “Why?”
    He didn’t answer right away.  Instead, he started tapping the steering wheel again.  “Derrick was more jittery than normal.  I didn’t have a good feeling about it.”
    “Well, why didn’t you call it off then?”
    His expression became serious as his eyes fixated on the road.  “I don’t know.”
    He knew why.  He just didn’t want to tell me. “Why do you do it if it’s so risky?”
    He pondered the question for a moment as if he had never really contemplated that thought before.  “It’s easy.  And fun.  And a hell of a lot better than working nine to five, six days a week.”
    We pulled up to a two-story commercial building which had four overhead garage doors in the front and an entry door on the side.  The sign above the overhead doors said “Tanner Automotive.”  We parked in the lot in front and walked towards the building.
    “This is my shop.”
    “ Your shop?” I found it