Pause

by CJ Adler

  I take advantage of him revealing more about himself and ask more. “You once said that your foster parents gave you back up to the orphanage. They were going through financial issues. They left you in the orphanage's care and were planning to adopt you again as soon as they were back on their feet, so, my question is, why didn't they come back for you in the end?”

  He sits down right in the center of the oval track on the last plush, green grass remaining—a sign that he's willing to talk.

  I join him, eagerly awaiting his response.

  “I wasn't their only kid. I was brought up with a brother—my age, no blood relation,” he answers, hesitant to speak further.

  I tap him on the arm in an act to reassure him.

  “He is my foster parent's biological son. Blood is always thicker than water. They chose to keep him and give me up. He replaced me. I was forgotten. They never came back for me. I don't really know why. I don't like thinking about it,” he confesses, conveying his hurt over the ordeal, a hurt that lies deeper than I originally thought.

  “If you were to ever see them again, would you ask why?” I question, sympathetic.

  He shakes his head, letting out a bitter chuckle at the thought. “Ironically, I have most of the answers. I know exactly who they are today, where they work, even where they are right now. It's a lot closer than you'd think. The only answer I don't have is the one to 'why'. I've had thousands of opportunities to speak to them, but I never do. What's the point in asking a question when you know beforehand that you'll hate the answer?”

  Good point.

  “'Cause maybe you won't,” I reply, trying to stay optimistic for his sake – he needs the encouragement. “Do they know that you're still around?”

  “No,” he answers quietly. “And I prefer it this way.”

  He prefers it this way because he's scared of facing the answers to all of his many questions. He's scared of forgiving them and growing attached again. It's easier to hate them. He's scared of getting close because he fears the risk of being left behind a second time.

  “What if they did go back for you, Jay? What if you had already broken out the orphanage by then? Maybe they couldn't find you?” I protest, unhappy with his decision to give up before even trying.

  “I've been replaced, Aqueela. I don't matter. They have a biological son— a golden kid, a prodigy, an all-star in everything. I'm just an underdog. They'd never want me and if they really cared, they would have found me by now. It doesn't matter anyway. Not to me. I've moved past it all,” he elaborates, averting his gaze to the ground as if feeling worthless.

  I just can't seem to wrap my head around his dense reasoning. Isn't he supposed to be the smart one?

  “How do you know that their son is all of those things?” I press on.

  The story shouldn't have to end like this.

  “Because I know him. You do too,” he answers solemnly, a blank expression on his face as he lifts his eyes to mine. “He goes by the name of Mason Montry and he enjoys taking everything and everyone that's been mine first away from me.”

  This isn't just about his foster parents. Mason took more from Jay. The question remains, who else did Jay lose to him?

  I glance up to see Jay staring at me with an irrefutable gaze. The answer soon becomes as clear as day.

  He's talking about you, you idiot. You.

  “Jay,” I drawl out slowly, having figured it out, “I was never his.”

  Chapter 43

  Ghost Tracks

  I stare at Jay, wide-eyed and unblinking.

  “Mason?” I ask aloud, still trying to come to terms with it. “Does he know? Does he know that you're the foster kid?”

  “He knows but his parents don't,” he replies quietly.

  Their hatred for each other makes sense now—well, Jay's hatred does. “I don't understand. Why does Mason hate you? For what reason?”

  “I have an idea but in all honesty, you'd have to ask him that yourself. I don't like outing people when they're not here to defend themselves, even if I do hate their guts,” he tells me, actually choosing to defend Mason despite his bitterness toward him.

  I offer Jay a bright smile, in turn. “You're a good person. If it were me in your position, I'd out Mason very quickly.”

  He chuckles. “And that's why I would not like to be your enemy.”

  “You'll never be my enemy,” I assure him in confidence.

  “Good.” He winks at me, satisfied with my response.

  His gaze soon finds the track again. I can tell how much racing means to him.

  “Teach me to race,” I say on impulse, needing to understand his love for it.

  He stills as if having misheard me. “What?”

  “You heard me.” I grin, remembering how he said that to me earlier. “Let me take that car of yours for a spin. Let me understand why you love racing.”

  He shrugs and stands up before taking his car keys out of his pocket. He swings it around on the tip of his index finger as he stares down at me. “I know I'm going to regret this, but fine.”

  He walks back to his car and opens the door to the driver's side before motioning to me to get in. He tosses me his keys. I hop in and he joins me by getting into the passenger seat.

  I start up the car and drive it to the starting line of the ghost track. “So, JJ…” I trail off, turning to face him. “What's your secret to winning all the time? It's NOS, isn't it? Or is it revving the engine in the start to intimidate the other racers?”

  He grins, his blue eyes flashing in impishness. “One word, acceleration.”

  Of course, he'd say that…

  He's quick to correct his slip-up. “No, but really, it's just precise control.

  There's a ton of little things you have to remember. First of all—”

  I ignore his ramblings as I put my foot all the way down on the accelerator, the car lurching forward with great power and immense speed as we go flying across the tracks. “Acceleration! Whoo!” I shout at the top of my lungs, lifting both hands off of the steering wheel to cheer myself on.

  “Aqueela, what are you…”

  I don't hear the rest of his sentence because the windows are all down, the wind making much noise as it tosses my hair about—I can't even make out the track anymore. I lose control very quickly and easily until we go spinning around the track in circles, or as the racers call it, donuts.

  “No! Not acceleration! Precise control! Weren't you listening?!” Jay shouts at me, panicked. He takes over the wheel and begins to steer us clear from the light pole that we had just been heading straight for, the tracks now way behind us seeing as I went off of them in a matter of seconds.

  While he stresses, I lean back in my seat and grin, enjoying the feeling of being free—this must be why Jay loves it so much. I feel like I've only just now truly come alive and it's absolutely amazing...that is until Jay starts shouting at me in my ear:

  “Brakes! Hit the brakes!”

  I come out of my trance-like state to see that another light pole has gotten ridiculously closer. I finally take action and slam on brakes.

  Jay and I both fall forward upon coming to a complete stop. If we hadn't been wearing seat belts, there would've been nothing to protect us from the inertia of the car.

  Jay moves from the steering wheel and leans back in his seat, his breathing rapid. I can practically feel his heart racing faster than what I'd just been racing.

  “Wow! That was great! Round two! Here we go now!” I raise my tone excitedly as I prepare to start the car all over again, unaffected by what just happened, unaffected by almost killing the both of us.

  His eyes snap open at my words as he slaps my hand away from the car keys. “Don't even!” He scolds. “I didn't think I'd regret this so soon.”

  “Sorry,” I apologize, sheepish.

  He sighs. “You can try again, but this time we're doing it my way. My way or the highway.”

  “Fine,” I agree, not really listening.
<
br />   “Usually when we practice on the track, we use our first lap to get used to the track layout. You want to do that?” he suggests.

  I shake my head. “Nah, I just want to dive right in.”'

  He groans in frustration but complies anyway, trying to teach me everything in one go. “Fine, but when you ride on a new track, the first thing you should do is spot the tricky corners and tight spots. It's important that you navigate through them without incident. Don't cut your corners too short or you will end up crashing. Don't ever oversteer. Take control of the inertia of inner loops and ease off. Only flat out when the track is straight. Be careful of blind curves. Drive—”

  “Blah, blah, blah,” I interrupt him, uninterested. “We both know I got none of that.”

  In actual fact, I was listening attentively. I can't help myself. His eyes light up in passion when he speaks of racing. It means everything and then some to him. It's his world. I love listening to him talk about something with so much enthusiasm. I like seeing this side to him, the side where Jay Taylor actually cares about something.

  He glares at me for that. “Could you just at least remember 'slow and steady' is preferable to 'crashing and burning'?”

  I raise a perplexed eyebrow at him. “That’s your racing motto?”

  He shakes his head. “No, but it definitely should be yours.”

  I mimic him with a frown before starting the car again, trying to apply what he's taught me.

  “Mine is 'when in doubt, throttle it out',” he eventually tells me. “But please don't think it has to be yours too.”

  I ignore him and start off well, working my way up to a nice speed on the straight track ahead. It's when I see a corner coming up that I begin to freak out because I'm already moving at a high speed.

  “Take it easy here. Loosen up on the accelerator, but not too much.”

  I listen to Jay, taking the tight bend with much effort but still managing it.

  “Good,” he praises. “Now keep it there.”

  I listen and keep my foot halfway down on the accelerator as I drive onward, close to the curve of the track. I pass the bend as the track comes into a straight branch again. “Oh, yes! I took a sharp curve. Racing is easy! I can do this blindfolded in my sleep!”

  “You did take it well but that was only a mild curve. The sharp corner is still up ahead,” he enlightens me, crushing my hope of being a pro racer first time 'round. One day, I'll surpass him.

  I take my eyes off of the track and glance at him with an unhappy frown.

  “But I—”

  “Don't take your eyes off the road!” he raises his voice at me for the second time today.

  When I look back at the track, I see the sharp corner, the one he had just been talking about, coming up. I try to put on some brakes but accidentally put my foot down on the accelerator instead.

  “I said to slow down at sharp corners, not speed up!”

  Jay's yelling only leads to me panicking all the more.

  “Uh-oh!” I gulp as I take the sharp corner at an incredible speed. “This is how we die.” I steer to the best of my ability but end up losing control when I skid off the track onto the grass, the friction making the car jerk from side to side.

  Jay, acting on instinct, covers my hands with his, taking over the steering wheel yet again. He helps me steer us back onto the tracks. I think for myself and put on brakes, stopping completely—no way am I driving when I can't even think straight just because of him getting all up in my space.

  “You were doing okay. I got you back on the tracks. Why'd you stop?” he asks me, his hands still over my own.

  I cough awkwardly, my eyes flickering down to his hands covering mine. He follows my gaze before realizing why I'm so out of it. He laughs softly before removing his hands from mine. “I was just guiding your steering. No need to get all flustered,” he teases as I remain quiet in my position. He notices immediately. “What's wrong?”

  “I can't race.” I sigh in defeat, taking it personally. “I really wanted to be good.”

  “Since when do you care about being good in something?” he asks, his expression conveying his confusion.

  I narrow my eyes at him.

  He reaches up to scratch the back of his neck as if truly uncomfortable. “I mean — ah flip. I did it again. That came out wrong. Forget I said anything. I always say the wrong things. You—”

  “Look who's rambling away nervously. Now you're the one all flustered. This is a first,” I joke, having the upper hand for once. He hardly ever messes up, so, when he does, I take the time to enjoy it and rub it in his face like the good person I am.

  “Shut up,” he mutters, unamused. “No, you,” I retort back childishly.

  “You more,” he says with a scoff, choosing to humor me.

  I giggle at this, flashing him a genuine smile. He returns it, taking me by surprise.

  “Racing means the absolute world to you. I wanted to be skilled at it so it could mean the world to me too because whatever you enjoy, I want to enjoy.”

  His blue eyes soften upon hearing my confession. “If it helps at all, I enjoy your company.”

  I mentally 'aww' at this before getting all arrogant. “I also enjoy my company.”

  He chuckles at my ego. “Don't let it get to your head. Your racing is just plain terrible.”

  I scoff at this latest insult, greatly displeased.

  “Luckily for you, whatever happens on the tracks, stays on the tracks.” He grins at me with that boyish fleck to his blue eyes. “I won't let slip to Grey how much you suck at racing.”

  “No more racing?” I ask, feigning disappointment. It's actually a great relief.

  “No more racing for you,” he confirms. “Behind the wheel, people say that

  I'm a different person. Same with you. When you're behind the wheel, you're a lot crazier and more reckless than usual. I wouldn't advise you to race, ever, for the sake of all humanity.”

  I glower up at him, defiantly crossing my arms over my chest. “You just shush your face. I did this for you,” I admit by mistake.

  He smiles. “Thanks, Aqueela.”

  The vibrancy in his eyes soon dies out like a burning flame as a more solemn expression overtakes his features , his previous enthusiasm gone . I sigh aloud at the sight. “Okay, obviously you have something serious and broody to say so let's—”

  He clears his throat. “You're the first girl I've ever taken out.”

  Jay is attractive in every way possible. He's a looker alright. He's well sought after and gains his fair attention from the flock of annoying females in our school who have a thing for 'bad' guys, even though Jay is far from being bad. They don't know him well enough to know that he's actually good, sincerely good at heart.

  I've noticed that Jay doesn't spare anyone, including his female fans, any attention. Still, I was sure that there must have been at least one girl he took note of once upon a time.

  “Why?” I ask bluntly, unable to wrap my head around it.

  He shrugs, averting his gaze. “I've just never liked a girl enough.”

  No kidding. It's sure not easy getting in Jay's good books. I'd know.

  I suck in a deep breath as I gaze up at him with confusion. “Are you insinuating something here?” I raise an eyebrow at him as I ponder over his words.

  He flashes me a genuine smile, his mind set. “I don't know. Am I? You tell me.” He knows full well that I hate it when he turns my question back on me. “Enough of the Ghost Tracks. You've obliterated it enough,” he jokes, strategically changing the subject. “There are some other places I want to show you before the night ends,” he informs me, his voice filled with affection.

  I'm not complaining. He's good company.

  “Now get out of my driver's seat.”

  I take it back. He's the worst company!

  “Don't sass me, boy!” I scowl up at him playfully. He is so protective over his car! I will refuse to move until he says 'please' like any perso
n raised with manners would.

  “You asked for it,” he warns before jumping out the passenger side of the car and coming 'round to the driver's side.

  What's happening?!

  Before I have time to even react to his supposed threat, my door is yanked open. In a split second, Jay is leaning in and scooping me up into his arms. I let out a surprised yelp of protest before I hit him on the chest. “What are you doin'?!”

  He ignores me and carries me to the passenger side of the car, bridal style, before lowering me into my respective seat. I blink up at him from my seat rather stubbornly, puzzled as to how he managed to do all of that so quickly. I barely had a chance to put up a fight.

  Jay pretends to read my thoughts. “I know, I know…” he trails off with a slick grin before attempting to mimic my voice, “how does he do it? What a champ. I will do anything he asks of me until the end of time.”

  I bite back a smile at his cockiness and roll my eyes at him, but allow him to continue raving on about himself nonetheless. I want to see how he perceives my inner thoughts.

  “He's such an enigma,” he finally concludes in a voice that doesn't even sound at all like me.

  I nod and stifle my laughter, agreeing. “Yeah, you are,” I admit. I love it when he's carefree like this. It's nice to see.

  “But you like it,” he retorts teasingly, nudging me in all playfulness. “Almost as much as I like your humble, down-to-earth spirit.”

  Chapter 44

  In Over My Head

  “Jay, when we left your place it was already eight. Then you took me racing until ten and then shooting until eleven. It's now almost midnight. As much as I love spending time with you, I'm tired,” I say, letting out a yawn to back up my words.