I tuned him out, pushing the key into the ignition. With the twist of the wrist, the engine roared to life. My father gave me a double thumbs-up. I waved and shut the door.
“Where are we going?” I asked, buckling my seatbelt.
“Anywhere as long as you do a U-turn and drive past the photographer,” Jon instructed, his thumb hooking over his shoulder. “Grandad said you could drive a stick.”
“I can.” And I did for the best ride of my life.
As far as miles went, I’d put far too many on my new-to-me bike today. I’d been everywhere, all over the older part of Sea Springs, having the best day reconnecting with the area.
I liked it here. Sea Springs was full of hard-working people, largely middle class. They cared for one another and the community they lived in. No one had much money these days which was the reason for my good day. Just about everyone had a mini junkyard in their backyard. Whether I knew them or not, once I introduced myself, they let me dig through their piles and take whatever I needed to help make my bike run a little smoother.
Now I had different goals for the day. I peddled harder down the main strip, determined to make it to The Pizza Box before my mom arrived. If I was able to get the extra time, I wanted to call Scott and tell him about my new cell phone then hit the small arcade inside the restaurant.Ninja Assaultwas my jam. I held the top score in our main burger place in Alabama. I needed to leave my mark here as well.
Honestly, I missed Scott, and the way we pushed each other. The competitive side of my personality came from my father, but his came with a mean edge.
Why was I thinking about him right now? Ruining my perfect day.
I reaffirmed my commitment to never be like him. A goal I intended to keep.
What kind of father doesn’t call their kid on their birthday? The same one who refused to pay child support, regardless of the judge’s order.
Stop thinking about him.
Before my thoughts dropped my mood any lower, I scoped out the intersection across from The Pizza Box. I quickly popped the curb on the yellow light that turned red before I ever got the back wheel on the street. I pedaled faster when one of the cars gave a loud, long honk. My fingers lifted from the handlebars in apology when I spotted the red Ferrari in the next lane. They’d begun to drive forward before coming to a sudden halt a few feet from the crosswalk.
There was no way to explain what happened next. The world slowed to an almost standstill, sending my senses into a frenzy. The neurons in my brain suddenly hyper-focused. The beat of my heart thumped slowly yet thunderously inside my head.
My body turned to a mass of tingles as if a million butterflies prepared for flight from inside me. I felt everything. The warm breeze, the faint squawk of seagulls in the distance, the smell of fresh dough baking in the pizzeria. My whole being fixated on one of the two people sitting inside the car.
In my peripherals, I caught the passenger flipping me off, but the driver held my attention. I felt his concentration as strongly as my own.
The darkness and fear in my life faded.
My entire body cinched tight, my muscles tensed and strained. A warm heat spread through me like lava from an erupting volcano.
The few seconds felt like an hour as I stared at him. Whoever he was, he was stunningly beautiful, like a sculpture crafted by Michelangelo. Maybe the best-looking guy I’d ever seen. Male model material. I’d never experienced anything like my reaction to him before.
I rolled past the Ferrari, lost to his world.
The sports car took off. Not with the peel out that I might’ve tried to execute if driving that car, instead at a normal speed. All I could do was turn my head to watch the car drive away.
The sudden stop of my bicycle shocked me. I lurched forward, catapulting me over the handlebars. Unfortunately, the back wheel followed me when my legs tangled in the bike’s frame.
The world sling-shotted back in place as my years of being tackled had me instinctively preparing for the fall. I ducked and rolled, landing in a skid on the concrete sidewalk. My stop came by way of the small bushes lining the path in front of The Pizza Box.
With that strange standstill-in-time moment extinguished, I opened my eyes and assessed my body for injury. When it appeared I might not have broken any bones, the pain of the road rash lit the left side of my body on fire.
I shouldn’t be embarrassed, but I was. In a hopefully fluid motion, I rolled to my feet. From the way I fell, my bike had landed on a grassy patch on the other side of the bushes.
“You good?” I glanced over my shoulder to see Josh Bigly in a parking spot in front of the restaurant with his truck window rolled down.
I gave a thumbs-up and bent to pick up my ball cap that had fallen off. “I think so,” I yelled.
In a practiced move, I scooped my hair off my forehead and pulled the cap down backward over my head. Then I swiped at the dirt and debris on my shirt and shorts. The crunch of the grass made me look in the direction of my bike to see Josh walking toward me.
“You got scraped up pretty good there,” Josh said, nodding toward my arm then reaching for my bike. He brought it up. Remarkably, it appeared okay. The front tire was flat, but I could fix that.
“Yeah.” A drop of blood landed on the concrete.
