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“Wait, did you say Friday night?” I ask, remembering that races are on Sunday.
“Yeah, it’s the regional qualifier this weekend. Races are Saturday this time.” He does this dramatic gasp. “You didn’t forget, did you?”
“No, of course not.” I didn’t exactly forget, since I didn’t know. Maybe I should start paying attention to the race calendar in the kitchen, or to the flyers I Xerox, or to daily conversations with my dad.
“Good, I’m not staying Friday, just Saturday.”
“Okay, I’ll try,” I lie, knowing I’ll never be able to reserve a spot for him.
“Thanks, you’re the best.”
I lay the wrong way across my bed with my feet hanging off the edge for a full minute after we say our goodbyes. I save his number in my phone and analyze the handful of words we had just spoken to each other. It was pretty much business only – no hidden love messages for me to decipher. But there’s always hope for the next time.
A voice at my door startles me and ruins my daydream of Ryan. It’s Shelby, hand on her hip and one eyebrow cocked.
“Well well, who was that?”
Chapter 7
Shelby bounces on the ai
r mattress and listens to every single detail about my crush on Ryan. She doesn’t say a word as I recount walking past Ryan and his friends at the tower and when he asked for my number. She just gnaws on her newly polished thumbnail and looks around the room a lot.
“And then he said it was great talking to me and we said goodbye,” I finish. Felicia would be freaking out by now, clapping her hands together and squealing in delight. She’d tell me how excited she was, immediately jumping into wedding planner mode and figuring out what kind of cake we should have. Shelby, on the other hand, stays quiet and bites her lip.
“What?”
“I don’t know if it’s a great idea to like him.” She says it in a voice only one level above a whisper.
“Go on…” I’m all-ears now. I hope he’s not her ex-boyfriend or mega crush or anything else that would jeopardize our new friendship.
“I’ve known him since we were five-years-old.” She curls her lip like the sheer thought of that makes her want to vomit. “Ash has too, obviously. They hate each other.”
“Is that all?” I can breathe normally now. It’s just a hatred. Not a crush.
“It’s worse than it sounds. They are both really good riders, but Ryan has a lot more money than us. He’s Ash’s only competition for making it to the pros, and he makes Ash’s life as hard as possible. Ryan knows everyone in the business and exploits that to his full advantage. Ash works hard for what he has.”
“So that’s why they hate each other?” I ask. “Money?”
“I don’t know actually – he’s never told me.” She frowns and fluffs the pillow in her lap. “It’s the only thing he’s kept from me. We tell each other practically everything.”
“Will he get mad at you for being friends with me if I start dating Ryan?”
“Yes,” she says with no hesitation. “But he’ll get over it.”
Shelby calls her parents and gets permission to spend the night (“Ash says thanks a lot for leaving him with the cousins from hell.”) and we veg out in front of my flat screen enjoying an I Love Lucy marathon. Not once does Molly, Dad or Teig come in my room. If I ignore the luxury pillow-top mattress under me and pretend Shelby has lighter skin and brown hair like Felicia, my new life would be exactly as boring as my old one.
Well, that isn’t all true. Although my home life is as exciting as that of a fat housecat, my social life has improved ten-fold since moving to Mixon. I now have exactly two friends, (two and a half if you count Ash) a job, and a family.
Oh, and a belly full of cheese bread.
Three of the trash bags of clothing in my closet are open – the remaining mound has yet to be sorted through. I find the two marked pajamas, drag them in my room and launch them on my bed. Shelby eyes me as I rip them open and pile matching sets of tank tops and shorts on her air mattress.
“I haven’t unpacked all of my clothes yet.” I point to the pile. “Pick something you want to sleep in.” I hold up a pink shirt with a faux-tuxedo printed on the front and its matching shorts, “Cute, huh?”
“Wow.” She takes the pajamas from me and puts the shirt up to her chest. “All of these are pajamas?”
“Yep.” What can I say, Mom loved to shop and I loved to accompany her.
