“Babe, I’m not sure what you’re talking about,” he said, running both hands down his dreads, pulling them together at the back of his head for a moment before he let them go. “This wasn’t even about you.”
I turned around and the wind hit my face, blowing my hair all around my head in a perfect physical description of what I felt inside. I grabbed a hair-tie off my wrist and wrestled with the unruly locks, refusing to turn around and face the motorhome again. We were in the middle of nowhere in some stupid parking lot in Glendale, Arizona. My family had flown in for the weekend to be supportive of Ash. Plus, it was Dad’s birthday, and he’d wanted to see the Grand Canyon to celebrate.
They were still at the hotel, and I’d taken a taxi to get here and spend the day with Ash before his race tomorrow. It was supposed to be an amazing day. Some LA film crew had scheduled a filming with Ash and a few other professional supercross racers for some show they were doing about Athletic Heartthrobs.
All week Ash had been equal parts nervous and excited, often throwing in a little bashfulness, saying he wasn’t really a heartthrob. But of course he was. He’d said he needed me here with him, for his big non-supercross TV debut. And so I’d come.
And then he completely forgot about me.
I’d stormed away as fast as my legs could take me, but it was nothing for Ash. He caught up to me halfway across the parking lot. There were other cars here, motor homes and toy haulers mostly. This was the staging area for everyone who would be racing in the arena tomorrow. Luckily, I didn’t see anyone standing around to witness this fight.
“Hana, what’s wrong?” Ash walked up behind me and rested his chin on my shoulder. His hair tickled my ear, but I ignored it, choosing instead to keep my arms folded across my chest and to keep staring out at the Walmart across the street as if there was anything worthwhile waiting over there.
A few seconds passed, and his arms slid around my waist, tentatively at first. When I didn’t push him off, he enveloped me in a hug. “Hana, please talk to me.”
I sighed and turned around, shifting so that his arms stayed around me. I was pissed at him, but that didn’t mean I wanted him to let go. My eyes couldn’t meet his, not when I was second-guessing myself so much.
“That whole segment was about making you a piece of sexy man candy,” I began. Ash quirked an eyebrow. “They asked you fifty million questions about girls and about being a heartthrob,” I said, making air quotes over the last word just to be a jerk. “And you never once mentioned me.”
Ash’s eyes widened in recognition. “Ah . . . yeah I guess I didn’t.”
He let me go and took a step backward and the sheer look of I’m a dumbass that etched across his face gave me a huge amount of satisfaction. “I guess there wasn’t really a place to mention you, though.”
“Are you seriously arguing that right now?” I threw my hands up in the air, remembering every stupid second of that scantily-dressed woma
n who gave him the interview. Not only did she flirt with Ash like crazy, using every opportunity she could to reach across their director’s chairs and touch his arm or knee, she kept asking him things that would have made me uncomfortable if I were him.
How do you deal with knowing women everywhere find you incredibly sexy?
How many times have you been flashed since you became famous?
What’s your workout routine like? Can I feel your massive biceps?
And my personal favorite:
Would you ever consider dating a supercross fangirl?
Ash’s gaze was pleading with me to calm down, but I was so pissed all I wanted to do was yell. “Do you even want to date me anymore?”
“Of course I do,” Ash said, his voice a smooth lake compared to my raging ocean. “Why would you say that? I love you, Hana.”
I shook my head. “She asked if you’d date a fangirl and you just laughed and said probably not.”
“That’s good, right?” Ash took a step toward me, but I backed up. “It means I don’t care about other girls.”
“No, it’s not good. You should have said you have a girlfriend!” I could feel my fingernails digging into my palm, and even though I’m not really a violent person, I kind of wanted to slap him right across his gorgeous face just like they do in the movies. “Ash, the whole freaking segment was about girls and you never even mentioned me. It’s like you’d rather these stupid fangirls think you’re some available single guy instead of knowing that you’re taken.”
“That’s not it,” Ash said. His shoulders fell and he squeezed the bridge of his nose between his fingers. “You’re right babe, I’m sorry. That was shitty of me. I wasn’t even thinking straight—I was nervous as hell, and I guess I just froze.”
I gave him a look that said nice try. “It didn’t sound like you had frozen. You sure laughed a lot with Miss Bouncy Boobs.”
“Hana, please,” Ash said, desperation covering his features. “I’m sorry. I really am. What can I do to make this right?”
I heaved a sigh and shook my head slightly, gazing out at the shopping center across the street, the cars cruising down the highway—gazing at anything except for Ash, who was right in front of me, his heart on his sleeve. “You could just admit the truth and stop dragging me along like a lost puppy.” I clenched my jaw. I would not cry. “Just break up with me already. It’s obvious you’re thinking about it.”
Chapter 17
Mike’s mansion of a house is in the literal middle-of-nowhere. I don’t have my truck, and I could walk for the rest of the night and not reach anywhere important. And that makes throwing up my hands in annoyance and storming out the front door kind of a stupid move. Still, I do it anyway, making my way through the throngs of people until I reach the front door, where I swing it open and step out into the warm summer night.