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“We’re going to wish Ash good luck, of course!” she answers, still grasping my wrist and pulling me along.
So it was as easy as this: just run to him while he’s on the starting line, no convoluted schemes or excuses. Not a bad idea, I think, struggling to match her fast pace. Her legs are much longer than mine are.
We duck below the row of triangle flags that serve as a barrier between the spectators and the starting line. Only a select few people are ever allowed on this part of the track: racers and their parents, or pit crews, in the case of the real professionals.
A bold move like this doesn’t match Shelby’s usually shy demeanor but as a proud sister and member of the staff now, she has a newfound courage. Plus, we both know I am the owner’s daughter and that gives me special privileges.
Although the crowds in the bleachers have mostly dispersed to the merchandise stands or restrooms, the racers don’t have time to leave the starting line so they relax and talked with each other while waiting. Ryan’s father is next to him and they talk in low but direct voices. His jaw stiffens as he tells his son something Ryan disagrees with.
Ash doesn’t notice our arrival until Shelby knocks on the back of his helmet and startles him from staring at his handlebars. He hugs her with one arm and holds onto the bike with the other. I can tell by the way his cheeks are stuffed into his helmet that he has a huge smile as he listens to her talking rapidly about how confident she is that he will win.
I stay a
few feet away to give them a special sibling moment and admire the fondness they have for each other. Teig and I may not be that close yet, but I vow to always be there for him in the way Shelby supports Ash.
The big water truck lumbers across the last section of the track. Time is running out. I clear my throat to get their attention but it goes unnoticed as some of the riders start their bikes. I try again.
“Shelby-” They hear me this time. Ash waves to me with a gloved hand while Shelby gasps and covers her mouth, embarrassed she had forgotten about me. More bikes start up and I know I’m treading upon our last few minutes of free time.
I bite my lip. “Do you think I could have a minute alone with Ash?” I’m not exactly lying to her but I feel awful asking her to leave so I can tell him something I’m keeping secret from her.
“Of course,” she replies, giving us both a sly smile as if she thinks we’re going to have a full-blown make out session and declare our love for each other right here on the starting line. “I’ll head back to my flagging station.”
I watch her walk away, fully aware that Ash’s concerned blue eyes are waiting for me to say whatever it is I couldn’t say in front of his sister.
“Hey,” I start, twisting the ring on my finger and focusing on the yellow metallic paint of his helmet. Looking into his eyes isn’t an option I can deal with right now.
“Why do you look as though I have no chance of winning?” He gives my shoulder a playful punch. “Come on girl…give me more credit than that.” I smile, finally brave enough to look under his helmet visor, through the shaded goggles and into his kind eyes. He has no reason to be friendly with me, yet he is. That is the guy I want for a boyfriend. Not Ryan.
I sigh, feeling the heavy weight of regret in the pit of my stomach. “I feel really bad about telling Ryan-”
“No.” He silences me with a gloved finger pressed over my lips. “That’s in the past. Plus, I have a good feeling about today.” He points to the foam padding in the center of his handlebars. Taped to it is the sticker he had kept from that breakfast burrito weeks ago. My heart skips a beat.
“Oh, my gosh,” I say, putting a hand to my face as my cheeks go all warm and fuzzy.
“Even though you go on dates with other guys and help them cheat…” he says. I swallow, of course he has to ruin this heart-melting moment by bringing up my act of betrayal. “I still have my good luck charm,” he finishes with a tap of his finger to the paper.
A man appears on the other side of Ash. At first I think it’s my dad coming to gripe at me for leaving my post, but then I see the broad shoulders and realize it is Ryan’s dad, not mine. He has the same smile as Ryan but in place of muscles, he has a few extra pounds and his hair is short and cropped unlike Ryan’s messy locks.
“Good luck out there, son,” he extends a hand and Ash shakes it. Ash replies in a strong tone, unlike the soft voice he used when talking to me. “Thank you, Sir.”
Ryan’s dad nods to me and leaves us alone again. It feels odd to have the father of your biggest competition wish you luck, but then I remember that same man gave Ash his first dirt bike. If it wasn’t for him, Ash wouldn’t be here today.
Out of curiosity, I steal a glance at Ryan. He’s staring at us and by the way he sits on his bike, rigid and unmoving, I know he saw our encounter with his dad.
“Hey Carter,” he calls out from three bikes away. Several heads in helmets turn in unison toward Ash and me. The loud engine revving seems to fade away. Ash is slow to acknowledge him, but eventually he turns to face Ryan.
“You’re wasting your time.” The sneer in Ryan’s voice is obvious but he removes his helmet to make sure we catch it. “She’s going home with the winner, you know.”
Ash flings an arm around me, more confident than I have ever seen him, and says, “Guess I’ll see her at my house tonight.”
I flush with pride. There is still hope of becoming Ash’s girlfriend. I like this sexy new Ash; smack talk is never something I’d imagine him doing a month ago. Ryan doesn’t feel the same way…his jaw is clenched and I can see his chest rise with the deep breath he takes. He lifts his helmet and before putting it on he says, “Good luck to you, man. If you win, you can have her. Then you can see how cute she is when she gets kissed.” He tugs the helmet on his head and adds, “I know I have.”
The confidence inside Ash falls from the air and explodes into a mushroom cloud of disappointment. He kick-starts his bike and revs the engine a few times while I stand here, rooted in shock. I touch his arm and he shrugs off my hand.
“Ash, I can explain,” I plead. He revs the engine once more. With his other hand he rips the sticker off his handlebars and tosses it to the ground.
“HANA!” Dad stands in the middle of the gate, getting ready to drop the lever. I glance ahead and see the girl standing in front of us holding the thirty-second sign. Panicked, I grab Ash’s arm again, “Ash, listen to me-“
