She nods. This is good, because there’s no way I can spend time thinking about the granddaughter of the guy who hates me. Still, I can’t help myself. I have to keep talking. “I don’t think I’ve seen you around here.”
“I’m just visiting for the summer. The whole summer.” She groans, and I can’t say I blame her. This town sucks.
“The whole summer in this hick town?” I say. “Welcome to my nightmare.”
She laughs, and then I’m laughing too. She’s very adorable when she laughs, but I can’t be thinking that right now.
“There’s really nothing to do here,” she says. “What are your plans for tonight?”
Trying not to think about you, I think. Instead, I shrug and say, “I’m just going to watch HBO.”
“I love HBO, but my grandparents don’t have cable.” She looks so sad, so deprived of such fantastic television. I know I shouldn’t, but I can’t help myself. I ask if she wants to come over and watch it with me.
“Sure,” she says with a shrug. I’m not some kind of girl genius or anything, but it seems like maybe she’s excited about it, but she’s not letting me know. I know where she’s coming from though, because I’m excited she agreed to come over, but I’m not going to show it either.
I take her inside, realizing only a few seconds later that I should have warned her about the state of the place first. “Yeah, umm, I didn’t decorate the place,” I say, nodding toward a taxidermy quail perched on the mantle. The situation is a little awkward so I duck into the kitchen. “You want a drink? I’ve got Coke, Mountain Dew, sweet tea…”
Bayleigh smiles. “Coke is cool, thanks.” I toss her one and then she says, “So if you didn’t decorate the place, who did?”
“My grandfather.” As much as I want to sit next to her on the couch, I slide into the recliner instead so I can keep my distance from this girl who gets a little cuter each time I look over at her. She sits on the couch, choosing the seat that’s far away from me.
“Do you live with him?” she asks.
“He died a few years ago. Cancer.” I gesture toward the room around us. “Left me the whole house and everything he owned.”
She frowns. “I’m sorry for your loss.”
“Eh, I never really knew him that well. Him and my dad had a falling out and they never spoke, so I dunno.”
“Wow, he left everything to you and you didn't even know him?”
“Well, he had no one else in his life,” I say.
“And you just live here without changing anything?” she says, opening her drink.
“Nah, I live in California. I just came here for the summer. Take inventory of what is now mine and all…” I just say some bullshit because I can’t let her know the real reason I’m here.
“So you’re from the west coast and you like dirt bikes.” She smiles, and I’ve seen that smile before. She’s impressed.
“It’s a little more thanlike, girl. It’s my entire life.” I might get a little too emotional here, but I can’t help it. Motocross is my entire life, and it’s what I’m fighting for.
Her brows pull together. “What do you mean?”
There’s no way I can possibly explain it. I’ll sound like a lunatic with how obsessed I am, or I’ll get angry about Luke or… yeah, I just can’t. I change the channel on the TV and pretend like I’m super invested in it. “This movie is hilarious,” I say. “Want to watch?”
She nods. “So what do you mean?” she asks again. Now almost want to tell her. But I don’t. “Okay fine, don’t tell me,” she says, turning to the TV.
I am a shit bag. I lean forward. “Sorry, I know that’s rude of me, but I’m not in the habit of telling people about my career right now.”
“Career?” she says, lifting an eyebrow. “Yeah, you should definitely tell me.” She giggles and it makes my stomach hurt because she truly is one of those girls who are just adorable no matter what. She’s not even dressed up or covered in makeup, and she’s still so fucking cute. “You can’t possibly be old enough to have a career,” she says.
“I race motocross for a living. You can go pro at eighteen. It’s my first year of being pro.” I lift my chin a little. “You know, getting paid to ride.”
She seems genuinely surprised. “Wow, so you’re like really good?”
I nod, but my self-esteem falters because although I’m fast as hell on a bike, the career part of it is kind of hanging in the balance right now. She must notice the weirdness on my face because she says, “So is it the off season?”
“Not exactly,” I say. I turn back to the television because I am so not talking about this anymore. Everyone else I know already thinks I’m a failure in my career. I don’t really feel like explaining it to yet another person.
