Page 36 of Heartbreaker

“Now I know you’re just kissing my ass.” I grin wide, waggling my eyebrows at her.

“Is that an offer?” I ask, and she lets out a little giggle that fills my chest with the sunshine that always seems to hang around her. “But I’m serious. You just need to land some of the bigger tricks, and you’d have it.” She rolls her eyes, and I’m annoyed by the fact that she doesn’t believe me. “You should try a backflip.”

“I don’t know if I can do that,” she says, shaking her head. “A little much for me.”

“I could teach you. It’s not as hard as it looks. You’ve done a cross-tread. Backflips are way less scary than that, and it gets more points. Now, if you can land a front flip, you’ll win the whole thing. But we can start with a backflip.”

“I haven’t seen you do a front flip yet,” she says, and when her eyes widen right after, I know she said it without thinking. Panic is written across her face. “Rome, I’m so sorry, I—” I shake my head, cutting her off and squeezing her hand because I don’t actually care, and I don’t want her to feel bad about it.

“It’s not that I can’t. It’s just…” I take in a deep breath, sharing with her what I haven’t revealed to anyone else. “It was the trick I performed when I crashed, and every time I try now, I freeze up. I can’t make myself do it again,” I say. “It’s why I practice alone. I don’t want everyone to realize I can’t do it, that I’m too fucking scared.”

“I think being scared is completely valid,” she says, her voice soft.

“You have to know that being scared is the worst thing you can be here, Lana.”

“Yeah, I guess,” she says, lifting a shoulder. “But it’ll come back to you. I believe in you.” And then I see it there, plain as day in her face: she’s telling the truth. She’s not saying it to stroke my ego to make me feel better. She genuinely believes I’m going to figure it out, that I’m going to nail the trick again and fight my fear.

And for some reason, that alone gives me more confidence than anything has since that terrible day. When she speaks, I wonder if she sees it written across my face.

“Come on. Let’s go try,” she says.

“What?”

“Fuck the movies. Let’s go to the arena. You can try to flip or teach me to.”

“I don’t—” I say, but stop when she stands, walking around the table and putting a hand to my cheek.

“Come on. Show me how it’s done, pretty boy.” In the past, a challenge like that coming would have made me want to do the exact opposite.

But the way Lana says it, it’s not taunting. It’s encouraging, like she knows just as much as I do that the longer it takes for me to go back, the worse off I’ll be. And the less likely I am to ever do it again.

And I won’t admit it to anyone but myself, but I’m starting to wonder if that fear will trickle out into other things, like Indy. If I’m too scared to do something I’ve done for years, something that, in theory, has more safety regulations than any other sport I partake in, what chance do I have of being willing to outpace someone on a risky turn, going hundreds of miles an hour to slide into first?

So instead of arguing, I sigh then stand, gathering up the trash and putting the rest back into the bag. Lana watches me hopefully, waiting for my next words.

“Okay. Let’s go,” I say, and when she gives me the most stunning smile, I know I made the right choice.

NINETEEN

The widest grin is plastered across my face as I walk through the arena, Lana’s hand in mine. She nearly skips beside me while holding her bag of toys, a girlish giggle escaping her lips every so often. Each time I look down at her in utter awe of how ridiculously adorable she is.

After she convinced me to ditch the movie, I spent five minutes with her pressed against the door of my rental car, my tongue tasting every inch of her mouth, before we made our way back to the arena. She stayed in the hallway while I quickly changed into my suit and slid her hand right back into mine when I stepped out. Sure, I could do a few rounds without the full gamut of safety gear, but I’m determined to overcome this fear once and for all; I’m more likely to do so if I’m wearing the proper safety equipment.

“Hey, Jackson,” I say, grinning at the security guard who travels with the circuit. He gives me a wide smile in return; he’s less happy to be here and more about the cash he knows is coming his way. “Mind letting us inside for a bit?” I slide him a stack of bills, and he takes it without hesitation, slipping it into his pocket with a well-practiced motion.

In the beginning, he played the bashful, oh, I couldn’t card, but the truth is, money speaks, and I know Phil probably isn’t paying them enough to pass up the extra cash I’m offering.

“Of course, of course,” he says, sweeping an arm toward the entrance. I give him a grateful nod and then head in, the door slamming behind us. In the empty arena, it sounds ominous, vibrating around with an echo.

“How often do you do that?” Lana asks, tipping her head toward the door. I shrug.

“Often enough.”

“So you haven’t completely lost your rebel side,” she states with a smile.

“Never.” Something in my mind registers an old thought that had been rattling in my brain for a while. “How did you get in the arena that day?” It’s been bothering me since part of my agreement with Jackson is that I can go in, but no one else can. Something shifts across her face for just a moment, too quickly for me to grasp, but long enough for me to notice and wonder what it means.

“I’m hot,” she says with an easy shrug and a cocky smile. “You can get a lot of places if you’re hot.” I open my mouth to argue, but she gestures toward the arena before us, the sometimes-basketball court covered in a thick layer of dirt, mounded in some areas for jumps. “Come on, pretty boy. Let’s see you flip.” For the first time since we made the decision, my heart plummets as fear creeps in, but she squeezes my hand and moves to her tiptoes, pressing her lips to my cheek. “It’s just for fun, Rome.” There’s something about it that settles in me, and I wonder when the last time I raced just for fun was. Not for practice, work, or to better myself. A race where I wasn’t picking it apart after the fact, trying to see how I could improve or what I could do better.