Supercross Me (Motocross Me 2)

“He’s twenty-one and I’m eighteen,” I say, leveling the rubber mallet over the wooden stake in this sign. I throw all of my weight into the swing and the sign bumps down into the dirt half an inch. “We’re not kids anymore. He could have just asked me in person.”

“Trust me, honey. When you’re in your forties, everyone younger than you is just a kid. And I think it was his way of trying to get to know you better, but not putting you on the spot. So you can easily say no if you want.”

“If that’s the case, then why do I feel obligated to go?” I raise the mallet and bring it down as hard as I can, only to see it have very little effect on the sign.

“Don’t do anything you don’t want to do,” she says while she struggles with her own sign. I try to hand the mallet to her but she shrugs me

off, preferring to stomp the thing the old fashioned way with her foot. “How about this?” she says, standing and wiping sweat from her brow. “I need you to help me with something in the house and it’ll take a few hours during lunch time. If you want, you can use this as an excuse to turn him down without it being weird.”

The excuse to get out of this lunch with Lincoln is a welcome relief that calms all of the anxiety and guilt I’ve been feeling since he gave me that memo two hours ago. While she waits for an answer, I run through all of the reasons that I don’t want to go. They all return to Ash. If not for him, I’d probably be excited at the opportunity to spend time with a cute guy who likes me. And maybe Ash has moved on, I don’t know. But I haven’t. Maybe I won’t be able to move on at all until I know what he’s doing. Until I know that it’s officially over, forever, for good, for always.

“Thanks, Molly,” I say, hefting the mallet into the air again. “I’d really like to help you during lunch.

Chapter 5

Eight months ago – October

Ash was only a couple weeks into his professional racing career with Team Yamaha and already the world had changed. Well, my world at least. The daily routine of motocross and finding my place in the motocross family was just starting to become normal and then Ash got shipped away. He was flown first class to California where he met and mingled with all of the gods of the professional supercross world and got his name out there for the world to see. They sent him home with more dirt bike brand T-shirts and gear than he could fit in his bedroom.

Some of it was being stored in our garage, and a few of the shirts were now mine. I figured that if I was a girlfriend now, I’d get the fringe benefits of stealing a shirt or two. Or ten. Ash didn’t mind, and the very act of wearing one of his shirts to bed made my heart warm in a way it’d never warmed before.

It was Monday, and Teig was home sick from school. Molly was on a girl’s-only casino trip that she and some of the other motocross wives do every year, the kind of trip that sounds like a blast if you go with friends you’re really close with. Of course, Molly played it off like some kind of silly obligation and that it wasn’t her first choice to go and leave us all home without her like the helpless heathens we were.

“I wish Molly were here,” I said, sitting on the edge of Teig’s bed while I placed a cold, folded washcloth on his forehead. “I’m doing everything she told me to and your fever still hasn’t broken.”

Teig’s tanned cheeks were a shade paler than usual as he gazed up at me. He tried to talk but I shooshed him. “No talking while the thermometer is doing its magic.”

He rolled his eyes, and when the digital thermometer finally beeped and I took it, he spoke. “Mom doesn’t need to be here. You’re doing a good job.”

“Then explain to me why your fever is still one-oh-one,” I said, frowning. “You’ve taken the Tylenol and Motrin every four freaking hours, alternating each brand for whatever reason.” I sighed and handed him a bottle of water from his nightstand. “Drink more of this.”

He took the bottle by wrapping both of his warm hands over mine. “Hana, I’m fine, really. It’s just a fever and I haven’t puked in a while, so I’ll be fine soon. A ton of kids at school have been sick lately, so it’s just something going around.”

The doorbell rang and I stood, pointing my finger of authority at him. “Stay here. And get better.”

“Yes ma’am,” he said, saluting me right before he rolled his eyes and turned his attention back to his TV.

The sight of Ash at my front door made all of the worry over Teig temporarily melt away. I still got that stupid rush of anxious but beautifully perfect butterflies in my stomach whenever I saw him. His dreadlocks went to the middle of his back and today they were tied into a low ponytail where he took one dread and wrapped it around the others instead of using a hair-tie.

“Hey,” I said, a little breathless from the rushed jaunt down the stairs and across the house to get to him.

“Hey,” he said back, grinning while his blue eyes sparkled in a way that simultaneously melted me completely and innocently mirrored those of his twin sister, Shelby. “. . . Umm, can I come in?” Ash asked, breaking my reverie. Heat filled my cheeks and I jumped backward, swinging the door open wide for him.

“Sorry, I…” Knowing I couldn’t tell him the truth—that I’d been thinking about how perfect he is—I quickly thought up an excuse. “I’m just out of it today. Worried about Teig and all. Of course I want you to come in.”

“It’s just a bug, Hana. He’ll be fine.”

Ash stepped into the foyer and waited for me to close and lock the front door again. We were still so new in our relationship that he wasn’t yet comfortable letting himself inside and being at home. Later, he would be. He’d let himself in through the garage with the pin code I assigned for him (0336—his dirt bike number) and say hello to my parents and then surprise me by slipping into my bedroom while I was showering or otherwise not paying attention. For now, we were in that dawning phase of the relationship. Everything was new and unopened. Fresh and perfect. There were no fights or arguments on our relationship record, and we’d only made it to first base in the last few weeks . . . well, first on the way to second.

We were really good at that.

“So what’s up?” I asked, walking up to him and giving him my favorite kind of hug. The kind where I just stepped into him, wrapped my arms around his lower torso and let my head press against his chest. His arms always found their way around me, crossing on top of mine and holding me close, his muscles tightening in a way that made me never want to leave. “Don’t tell me you’re coming over to say goodbye.”

“Not yet. I don’t leave until Friday morning.”

I let out a little whoop and then backed up, taking him by the hand. “Netflix?” I asked, tilting my head toward the couch.

“Actually, I want to show you something on the computer. It won’t take long.” At the mention of whatever was online, his expression beamed more than when he’d seen me at the door just now. He shoved his hands into the pockets of his cargo shorts and gave me this wide-eyed little look of excitement. “I think you’ll like it.”