Motocross Me (Motocross Me 1)

“Your old man said I no longer had to pay… lucky me.” He smiles while looking into my eyes. I can almost feel a piece of my soul being sucked out through my pupils. Why does he have to be so cute?

I reach for the clipboard and he moves it behind his back, slow enough for me to grab it if I wanted to, but I don’t fall for it. He wraps his right arm around my shoulders and pulls me to him. I feel a kiss on my hair. My cheek presses to his chest. His shirt smells of laundry detergent mixed with cologne, a deadly combination of deliciousness.

“I’ve been thinking about you,” he says in a sing song voice.

My body goes warm. I am hypnotized yet again. His smell, his muscles and his raspy voice are the watch swinging in front of my eyes. I repeat the alphabet in my head to regain enough control to pull away from the embrace.

The logical part of my brain, which has been beaten to the size of a pea in the last five minutes, nags at me. I know there is something I want to say to Ryan, but I’ve completely forgotten, thanks to the butterflies in my stomach and warm fuzzies clouding my vision. I watch the ground, trying to remember. Ryan talks, something about the race and his new sponsors and – finally, I remember.

“I happen to like Ash.” I rest a hand on my hip. He laughs. My feeble attempt at defiance goes unnoticed.

“No you don’t.” He lets the last word have several more O’s in it than usual, as if he were taunting me with a secret he isn’t going to tell. I clench my teeth together and nod to disagree with him.

“Ash is trash. See? It rhymes,” he shakes his head to congratulate himself on being so clever. “Which means it must be correct.”

“Your logic is stupid.”

Laughing, he puts the clipboard in my hand and ruffles my hair. “I’ll catch you later, kid.”

So I’m a kid now? Does he kiss every kid he knows? Anger rises to a boil inside my ribcage as he drives away. Every guttural instinct I have tells me Ryan would be a bad boyfriend and Ash would be perfect. But Ash doesn’t have moves like Ryan; he doesn’t have the blunt confidence Ryan has. But both of them make me weak in the knees. I grip the clipboard harder, wishing I had the strength to forget Ryan forever.

A gust of warm wind blows sand in my eyes. They fill with tears as I try to blink away the sharp pain. A tear runs down my face in perfect irony, as all I want to do right now is cry.

“I’m sure you’ll have no problem with the new changes,” Dad reassures someone in the garage as I approach the side door from my walk back home. I was the last one to leave the track today because I decided to organize the photos on Dad’s computer in the tower. There were over a thousand photos taken within the last month, and I thought it would be great to organize them by bike number so people could look at all their photos at once. Three hours after the track closed, I had a folder for every bike number and folders for each class along with a separate folder of candid spectator photos.

My body is exhausted from standing all day. A fine layer of dirt coats my skin. All I want to do is shower until the supply of hot water disappears, regardless of how many times Dad has asked me to stop wasting energy.

I should have realized Dad is obviously talking to one of the pro riders. I also should have noticed Ash’s truck wasn’t in the driveway and Ryan’s was. If my mind wasn’t dancing with thoughts of warm showers and soft comfortable bed sheets, then maybe I would have been smart enough to avoid the garage and go inside through the kitchen door.

But none of that happens as I shuffle into the garage and walk straight into the conversation between Dad and the most annoying and gorgeous guy I have ever received a kiss from. They hover around a small television watching the latest professional supercross race on ESPN.

“Look who’s here,” Ryan says as they turned to me. Dad look at me with concern.

“Honey I thought you were already home. Did you just get here?”

I nod, not wanting to speak so I won’t be pulled into a longer conversation with them. Ryan is the last person I want to see right now.

“You’re workin‘ her too hard, Jim.” Ryan says.

“She brought this upon herself,” Dad explains, turning to me. “You organized the race photos, right? I didn’t make her do that.”

Ryan asks Dad about the photos and when they would be on the website. I take this opportunity to dash out of there. I turn the handle to the kitchen door and have one foot across the threshold into the safety inside when Ryan calls out for me to wait. Reluctantly, I turn, raising one eyebrow in reply.

“You free tomorrow night?”

I look at him and then to Dad. There is no chance this was a hypothetical question. If I tell him I’m busy, Dad will ask why he doesn’t know about my so-called plans and ruin it. If I say I’m free…

“A bunch of us are having a little barbeque party down by the lake,” Ryan says. “If Jim is okay with it, I’d love for you to join me.” Without hesitating, Dad says it’s absolutely no problem. I make a mental note to punch him in the face at a later date because right now I’m busy thinking up a way to decline the invitation.

“Um, I don’t know,” I say, wishing for a good enough lie to get me out of a night with Ryan the Intimidator.

“Oh come on.” Ryan steps closer. “It’ll be fun, and you can meet people our age.”

Dad seems to think this is a fabulous idea. “Hana, you do need to get out of the house some more. Go and have fun. I trust Ryan will bring you back at a reasonable time.” He winks at Ryan who is suddenly an astute gentleman and not the sort of guy who kisses on tailgates and then doesn’t call for a week.

“Of course I will, sir.”

Chapter 16