He nods and stares at the glass light fixture that hangs above our table. “Don't worry about it, I'm just…thinking out my options. So,” he says, his tone changing from quiet to overly friendly, “How was your week?”
“Well, I learned how to crochet and I made myself a throw blanket. So, obviously my week was insanely action-packed and you should be sorry you missed it.”
He smiles. “I missed you. I wish I could have called or something but…” he points a finger at me, “Someone got themselves grounded.”
Prickles of nervous excitement dance across my skin when he says he missed me. I open my mouth to say something in reply, but all I end up doing is smiling like some kind of freak. I run my hand through my hair, acutely aware of Jace watching my every move with a look of overconfidence. He knows he's made me feel awkward, and he's enjoying it.
The waitress brings our food, breaking the silence with her southern drawl. I'm starving, in spite of my nervousness and Jace must be hungry too because he finally takes his eyes off me and digs into his food.
“You never answered my question about Mixon,” I say after a round of pointless small talk.
Jace gnaws on his lip. “Mixon is a tiny town much like this one, but it's different because Mixon is super famous for its motocross track.”
“Oh. So are you going to go ride there or something?” I ask. He shakes his head but doesn't say anything else. I'm having a really hard time not asking him a million questions.
He must sense the frustration I'm trying to hold back because his face softens a bit. “I spent the last few days in Mixon. They were hosting a nationals race, and my agent met me there. He was already going to be there and it's just easier to see him at the race than to fly back to LA for a weekend, even though he assured me that either way I saw him would be pointless.”
“Why's that?” I ask.
He sighs and runs a hand through his hair. “I guess my career really is over. He claims he did everything he could to get me back in, but no one will allow it. I've been all but excommunicated from professional motocross.”
“Excommunicated?” I ask. “That's a thing in motocross?”
He rolls his eyes. “Come on, Bayleigh. Your gullible is showing again.”
I kick him under the table. He smiles at me, and it's the kind of smile that he does and no else ever has. It's the kind of smile where his lips press together and his eyes stare straight into my soul, seeming to appreciate what he sees there. His smile fades a moment later. “So anyway, I am slowly coming to terms with the fact that my professional career is over. I don't know what to do with myself. I wanted to come home and break a bunch of shit, but I knew seeing you would make me feel better.”
“Are you moving back to LA?” I ask.
“I'm not moving back there. I live there. My home is there.”
My heart cracks in half. “Oh,” I say quietly, moving my fork around on my plate. I'm not hungry anymore.
Jace asks if I want to hang out at his house after dinner. I agree even though it feels pointless because he'll be gone soon. I know I should make the best of the time we do have, but, in the end it's all just a big waste of emotions. I like Jace. Jace is leaving. End of story.
I rest against his shoulder on the couch while we watch TV, his hand holding mine while his thumb traces circles on my palm. His phone rings and he pulls it out of his back pocket. “It's my mom,” he says, getting up from the couch. “I'll be back in a second.”
He ducks into another room to answer her call and I go to the kitchen to grab a drink. I hear him talking about his uncle's unruly dogs and something about obedience training. The shiny surface of Jace's IPad seems to call to me from the kitchen table. I glance around the corner into the living room but Jace is still in his room on the phone.
Quietly, I pull out a chair and sit in front of the IPad. There's probably nothing good on Facebook, but I can't help myself. I log in and find three more messages from Ian, each one more desperate and pleading than the last. Why does he care so much about me now? He didn't care when I was there and now that I'm gone, he's suddenly mister romantic?
I type a reply to his messages.Sorry but you had your chance. I press send. It feels good to throw off Ian's emotional shackles and stick up for myself. He doesn't deserve me. The screen lights up a moment later.
Ian:Seriously Bayleigh, WTF. You can't just change your mind about me that much.
Me:I've learned that people can treat me better than you did.
Ian:Are you screwing someone else now? I see how it is.
Me:
I stare at the blinking cursor on the screen, unable to think of a good reply. Part of me wants to say yes just to make him jealous. But the other part of me can't help but like seeing this side of Ian. He's all but begging for me back. He didn't like me this much when I left, but he likes me now. And at the end of summer, I won't be returning home to Jace, I'll be returning home to Ian.
Jace has another better life without me. Jace is just a summer fairytale.
I type out a reply.We'll talk when I come back.Then I log out of Facebook and look up to see Jace watching me from the couch.
“Why can't you just forget about him?” Jace asks with disappointment in his eyes.
