Supercross Me (Motocross Me 2)

Teig finds me cooling off in the score tower an hour later. “Shouldn’t you be in school?” I ask, keeping my face pressed toward the air conditioning unit.

“It’s a half day because of standardized testing,” he says, grabbing one of the rolling chairs from the score desk and spinning it around. “You want to go home and see if Mom will make us a sandwich?”

“Aren’t you old enough to make your own sandwich?” I ask into the cold air.

“You know Mom’s are better than anything we can make ourselves,” he says. “She makes her sandwiches with maternal magic.”

I turn, letting the air hit the back of my neck. “That’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard.”

“It’s true,” he says, lifting a brow that makes him look strangely older.

I nod. “You’re right. Let’s go.”

“So I heard Lincoln asked you out,” Teig says as we walk over the little bridge that connects the track to our back yard.

I hold in a groan. “And how is that any of your business?”

“You’re my sister,” he says, pointing to his index finger. He points to the next finger. “And Lincoln is my friend.”

“Lincoln is twice your age.”

“I can have friends twice my age.”

This time I really do groan. “Not that it is any of your business, Kiddo, but yeah, he asked me out.”

“And what did you say?”

I lift my shoulders and focus on the grass. “I told him I had to think about it.” Teig stops, forcing me to stop too. “What?” I say, putting my hands on my hips.

His lips twist into a grin. “You don’t want to date him because you still love Ash.”

“Oh my god.” I start walking again, picking up the pace as quickly as my legs will take me. Teig jogs to catch up, singing “Hana loves Ash” until we reach the back door and I elbow him hard in the ribs.

“Stop it, Teig. I’m serious.”

“Shawn thinks you should go out with Lincoln a few times just to make Ash jealous,” Teig says, rubbing the spot I’d just jammed with my elbow. Like he and Ash’s little brother actually discuss these things.

I let out a huff of air. “What do you kids even know about dating? You’re like, five.”

“I’m almost eleven. I know stuff.”

Luckily Teig drops the subject when we go inside and ask Molly for lunch. She is already making herself a sandwich, and although I feign interest in helping her, she shoos me off, saying she’s happy to make us lunch. Yet another reason being home is much better than college life—Molly’s sandwiches.

After we eat, I run up to my bedroom hoping to avoid any more stupid dating advice from my little brother. Dating other guys to make Ash jealous? Where the hell does he get this stuff? That’s something petty people who love drama do in order to make their lives more miserable. Ash and I are over. It doesn’t matter that my heart still aches for him or that Shelby and Shawn and my own brother all think we should get back together. It didn’t work out.

How many times do I have to say that?

I’m not going to accept Lincoln’s date invitation just to piss off an ex. I’m not even sure it would piss him off, but that’s beside the point. As I pace around my bedroom, wondering what I should do, the weirdest thought comes to me. I get the sudden urge to call Ash and ask for his advice, just like I used to do with every other problem I had.

I sink into my computer chair knowing I can’t call him. The thing with Lincoln might be too much too soon. It’s not that I don’t like him—I barely even know him, but the things I do know, I like. And it’s not that I don’t want to date, but I’m just not sure if it’s time yet. Zooey dated several guys when we were roommates. I can still hear her screechy voice saying her favorite motto after a night of drinking and bringing home another frat boy: “The best way to get over a guy is to get under a new one.”

With a deep breath, I stare at my cell phone, wondering if I should go on the stupid date with Lincoln. It can’t really hurt anything and maybe after I do it, I’ll know for sure if I want to move on or not. But if I don’t want to move on, it’ll be wrong to have used Lincoln for my own soul-searching.

My phone lights up with a social media notification.

Lincoln Atwell would like to be friends.

I click on his profile and smile when his default picture pops up on my phone. It’s him standing next to Mickey Mouse at Disneyland. It’s a recent picture, but he almost looks like a kid, his eyes glimmering in the excitement of meeting the mouse. I am immediately tempted to go through his entire profile to figure out the kind of guy Lincoln Atwell is in real life and not just on the track. A rush of nervous energy runs down my veins and I stop scrolling. Before I allow myself to cyber stalk someone, I should probably decide if I want to date him or not.