Motocross Me (Motocross Me 1)

I slide to the middle seat and throw my arms around Ash’s neck. He stiffens, out of surprise I hope. I squeeze him tighter and his shoulders relax. His hand reaches up and pats me awkwardly on the back. My cheek flattens against his and I can smell the coconut shampoo in his dreadlocks. Spending time with Ryan makes me realize how much I miss Ash. I don’t want to let go.

Ash isn’t as enthused about my embrace. He clears his throat as he peels my arms off him one at a time and places them carefully in my lap. Then he shifts into first gear and makes a slow U-turn on the empty road, leading us toward home.

I can’t stop staring at him as I sit back in the passenger seat and buckle my seatbelt. We haven’t said a word, but silence with Ash doesn’t bother me as much anymore. He is a quiet person and I have accepted it. I don’t want to talk about what had happened at the lake, especially not with Ash, but it doesn’t take him long to ruin the silence.

“What are you doing out here?” The question sounds more like an accusation as he stares at the road ahead of him instead of at me.

“Walking,” I say, but it sounds more like a question.

“Alone?” His jaw is hard-set and I imagine my father would look the same way if he were in Ash’s position.

Of course I was alone. What kind of question is that? Had he seen any other people walking on the road with me? He looks at me again, this time with raised eyebrows that demanded answers. I shrug.

His lips press into a thin line. “You could have been killed, girl.”

The words sting more coming from Ash than if they had come from my dad, and calling me girl is the icing on the cake of regret and poor decisions. There is a disappointment in his voice that is both sweet because it shows he cared about me, but annoying because we are peers. He is only a year older than I am, and therefore has no right to lecture me. It looks as though he’s about to launch into a fatherly speech. I’m not in the mood to be belittled tonight.

“Well why are you out here?” I ask, turning the accusation around on him. “I thought you’d be resting for the race.” I fold my arms over my chest and stare at him, waiting for an explanation. If the truck wasn’t so dark inside, he’d be able to see that my evil accusing glare is nothing more than a furrowed brow and pursed lips that wouldn’t intimidate a squirrel.

“I was asleep,” he says, shooting me a sideways smirk that almost wakes up the butterflies in my stomach. “Shelby called and asked me to check on you.”

Wind gushes in through the open window, causing my hair to tangle around my face. I fight with the unruly strands and force them to retreat behind my ears. I think back to the text I sent Shelby earlier tonight. I was only whining to her the way best friends are supposed to do. Did I really sound so distraught and needy that she had to call her brother to come take care of me?

Ash reaches across me and rolls up my window. “Thanks,” I say, finally getting my hair to settle back in place. He nods in reply and pushes a stray strand of hair behind my ear. I think I catch a glimmer of kindness in his eyes, but when he returns both hands to the steering wheel, his face becomes ridged once more.

“I had no idea you’d need this much checking up on,” he says.

“I’m fine, actually…Thanks.”

“Please explain to me why you were walking alone.”

I stare out the window and don’t answer. The muscles in hi

s arms tighten as he grips the wheel. His anger makes me feel like apologizing but know I have no reason to be sorry to anyone, especially not Ash.

If I could conjure up a decent lie as to why I’m walking alone, I would use it. But when I’m around Ash, he is all I can think about. It’s similar to the mind-numbing effects Ryan has on me, only lately when I’m with him I still think about Ash. I hate that he is upset with me right now. I want to say something to make him happy, something that would make him turn into the guy who sat on the weight bench with me and stole my heart. But as I can’t think of anything besides the veins bulging in Ash’s forearms, I say nothing.

Finally, his voice softens. “Did someone hurt you?”

I shake my head in reply. He stops at an intersection and takes the opportunity to look at me instead of the road. Again, he pushes my hair behind my ear although it didn’t need it. His hand lingers on my cheek and I wrap my hand around his and pull it to my lap. I don’t know how long he will let me hold his hand since he needs it to drive, so I hold on tight for the time I do have.

“I just didn’t fit in with those people,” I mumble and gaze at his scarred hand. I turn it over and rub my finger across the calluses on the pad of his palm. They are rough to the touch and a sign of a true motocross racer.

“Yeah I heard a bunch of racers were having a party out there. I didn’t know you knew any of them,” he says. He shakes his head and adds, “You’re pretty shy; I can’t believe you went,” and chuckles to himself. I give him a sarcastic eye-roll and laugh with him, happy that his anger with me is fading.

He pulls his hand away after a few seconds. His face falls and the air thickens once again. He opens his mouth to speak and then closes it, unsure of what he was going to say or how he would say it. I watch him shift gears and start driving again. His eyes are pained and I can’t bring myself to ask what troubled thoughts swim around in his mind. He had come to check up on me and I am safe; what more could he be worried about?

He turns onto County Road 41 and I realize we are almost at my house. The drive had taken half as long with Ash than it seems to take with Ryan.

Ash is still lost in thought as he turns into my driveway and stops several feet away from the garage. The better choice would have been to park in the horseshoe part of the driveway that has a sidewalk to the front door. Ash’s mind is noticeably heavy with other thoughts besides driving, so I don’t complain.

“Who did you go with?” he blurts out, revealing what had been on his mind.

I have a feeling he knows exactly who took me to the lake but the optimism in his eyes sends a chill down my spine as he waits for an answer, hoping his assumption is wrong. I have no choice but to tell him what he doesn’t want to hear. He cringes and lets his forehead drop to the steering wheel when I say Ryan’s name.

“I know you hate him Ash, but he’s nice to me,” I say. I push the dreadlocks out of his face and lean closer to look him in the eyes. He keeps his forehead pressed to the steering wheel but is generous enough to look at me sideways while I speak.

“He told me why ya’ll hate each other…about his brother…” I start. He doesn’t react so I continue, “It just seems like a stupid reason to me. You should be friends.”