by J. Lea
“How do you know I have a sister?” he challenges me with a raised eyebrow, the corners of his lips curl upward. I feel my cheeks burn. I can see in his eyes that he is enjoying making me blush. I put the last bite of the fantastic hamburger in my mouth and finish my beer.
“I Googled you,” I say eventually, embarrassed. I’m kicking myself mentally for letting it slip. The last thing I wanted him to think is that I was thinking about him so much I stalked him on the Internet.
“Oh, really? And what else did you find out about me?” he smirks. He’s so enjoying himself right now. I might need something stronger than that beer. I grab a napkin from my plate and start folding it.
“Are you really as good as the press says?” I look him in the eyes and he nods.
“I love motorcycling. It’s my life. And the feeling of power I get every time I sit on a bike is incredible. I’m sure it shows in every race that I put 100% into it.” I glance at my watch, and notice it’s already past eleven o’clock.
“I think we should go. It’s getting late.” It is late, but that’s not the reason I want to leave. I see motorcycling isn’t just his way of life, it is his life. He doesn’t care about how dangerous it is. On the contrary, he laughs in the face of danger, and welcomes it. I’m not bothered by the sport itself, but my heart fills with horror every time I think about the hazards of this sport, and how one cannot do anything about it. That’s what I’m afraid of. I feel amazing in his company. That’s why I need to distance myself from him right now, rather than to suffer again. Yes, I really like him, but I’m terrified. Terrified that my already broken heart would break even more. The thought of feeling, loving again and losing everything in the end, terrifies me. I’m not strong enough to survive again.
We slowly get up, and Jake goes to find Joe so he can pay. Despite my protests, he didn’t want to hear anything about splitting the bill. In the meantime, I put on my coat, wrap my scarf around my neck, and wait for him outside. The cold December night reminds me it’s going to snow soon. Jake hurries out after me, zips his jacket all the way up. I can feel the weight of his hand on my lower back as he leads me to his car. We fasten our seat belts, and head toward my home. Jake parks behind my Chevrolet, then we exit the car.
“I’ll walk you to your door,” he says. I fish my keys out of my bag, and unlock the door to my apartment building. Jake follows suit.
“Thanks for the burger. I had a nice time,” I say, a little tipsy. I haven’t drunk alcohol in a long time, and two beers were more than enough. Hands in his jean pockets, Jake takes one out and leans on the doorframe. Our bodies are almost touching.
“I had a nice time, too, we should repeat it sometime.” His smile lights the room. I unlock the door and grab the doorknob. He’s looking at me with those big eyes and it takes a lot of strength to speak.
“Jake...” I start, wanting to explain that friendship is all I can offer, when he presses his fingers against my lips.
“Whatever you’re thinking right now, stop.” He drops his gaze to the floor for a second, and then looks me straight in the eyes. “You’re thinking way too much. I can practically see the wheels turning in your head. Relax.” Perhaps I misread him. Maybe he’s not trying to get me in bed after all. But why did he take me to dinner? Does he want us to be friends? Ugh, I’ve had way too much to drink. It’s high time for me to go to bed.
“Good night, Jake,” I whisper before I close the door behind him. I sigh deeply, and lean on my front door.
Chapter Seven
Jake
Two days later, I’m lying in my bed, thinking about Ella. Why is she always so distant? So sad? I hardly ever saw her laugh. What hurt her so much? Who hurt her? And what is so special about her that pulls me to her like a moth to the flame? I snort. Everything about her is perfect. Her eyes¸ damn, I could stare into her eyes for days. They are so gentle, so kind. There’s not a trace of evil in them. And her luscious lips—every time she ran her tongue along her lips I wished I could be the tongue. I bet they are as soft and sweet as they look. Her silky brown hair is just long enough for me to wrap them around my hand and...
My phone rings and disrupts my erotic fantasies.
“Hey, mate! What’s up?” I hear Mike’s content voice on the other side of the line.
“I’ll be damned. Look who’s calling. Have you finally come up for air and unglued yourself from Debbie?” I tease him.
“Shut up,” he laughs.
“How’s vacation?”
“Hot, in every sense of the word,” he says and laughs mischievously. He and Debbie are still in Australia, but in a few days they are leaving for Africa.
“Spare me the details.”
“Aww, someone is jealous,” he says in a child’s voice. “What, you haven’t gotten laid lately?”
“Fuck you,” I laugh.
“How’s training? Have you taken any time off already?”
“I don’t have time to rest. You know me, and that’s why I kick your ass every time,” I grin smugly.
“Low blow, mate,” he chuckles. I know he isn’t offended. That’s just how we are with each other.
“Say hi to Debbie for me.” We exchange some more words before I put the phone back on the nightstand and start getting ready for my practice. I only have one more practice session, and then I’m off for the rest of December. Of course, that doesn’t mean I won’t be running or cycling if the weather allows it. I also made plans with my buddies to hit the town, grab a beer, and shoot some pool to catch up. I haven’t seen them in a long time, and I can use some company to help me take my mind off a certain gorgeous brunette for a few hours.
I drive out of my garage, and notice two paparazzi outside my fence, lighting the gray foggy morning sky with their camera flashes. I pull my black beanie down lower on my head, and carefully drive past them. At the Indianapolis Motor Speedway, I park in the spot reserved for me, grab my bag, and head to the gym. I know the track so well already I could ride it with my eyes closed. I sign a few autographs in front of the entrance, and then hurry to the locker room where I put on my workout clothes.
“You’re here early,” Tony Richards, one of the coaches on my team, pats me on the shoulder. I say hello, and finish tying my sneakers.
“So, what do you have planned for me today?” I ask him. I can’t wait to start.
“We’re going to work on your conditioning. Follow me.” Yes, even racers have to work on our conditioning—a lot. Preparations for the race begin much earlier than at the track. They start in the gym. I also do a lot of cardio—I run and cycle a lot. I like to push myself to the limit until I’m practically unable to stand on my feet anymore. That’s when I know the training session was successful. An average race lasts for approximately 45 minutes. My heart beat during the race increases to almost 160 beats per minute. It’s crucial I stay in good shape to handle such exertions. I step into the big gym under the track, and run a few laps to warm up. Then I start with strength training. We work with weights a lot, doing squats, deadlifts and pull-ups. Testing my reaction time is also a very important part of my training-it’s basically how fast I react to visual stimulus. There’s a big board with eleven randomly arranged light buttons mounted on a wall. The lights are lit randomly or in a repetitive fashion, and I have to press them as fast as possible. This helps me during the races because, a lot of times, I have to react in a split second, which can save my life in an actual race. But it’s not just my physical condition that is important. I spend a lot of time preparing mentally. Many times, especially before the race, I like to relax with an upbeat and catchy song. People often tell me how lucky I am to have so many beautiful women around me before the race, but in reality, I don’t even notice them. I usually wear sunglasses, which help me concentrate, and camera flashes don’t bother me so much. Every disturbance on the track can be fatal.
After I warm up, I stretch, and then I focus on the strength training. I put one leg on a black wooden box, and then lower my
other leg. It looks like a squat on one leg, while I hold small weights in my hands. Coach Richards is timing me with a stopwatch in every exercise I do, observing me, and correcting the mistakes. I also exercise on the rowing machine, and then I have a few minutes of break to rest and drink water. I wipe the sweat with my towel, and continue with my training. I do squats with small weights and I deadlift. I repeat everything three times, and during each rep, I run in place for a minute. In the end, I do some sit-ups, and then my training is over. Exhausted, I collapse on the floor in the gym, breathing deeply. I slowly stretch my tired muscles and go grab a quick shower. In the shower, I place my hands on the white tiles, and let the water cascade over me. I close my eyes and just breathe.
About fifteen minutes later, as soon as I step outside the building, I’m surrounded by a group of girls. I give them a wide grin.
“Jake, can we take a picture with you?” squeals one of them. Since I’m not in a hurry, I nod. There aren’t any more people in the vicinity, so this shouldn’t take long. I stand next to every girl, my arm around their shoulders, while one of them takes a picture. In the end, I sign a few autographs and head to Ace, exhausted.
“Hello, Mr. Burns,” Meredith, the owner of Ace, greets me. I give her my usual smile and go to the couch where I usually wait for Ella to finish her massage. “Today, Anna will be your masseuse, Ella is on sick leave.” I raise an eyebrow toward her.
“Sick leave? Is she alright?”
“She caught a virus,” she waves her hand. “I’m sure she’ll be back on her feet in no time.” I nod. While I wait for Anna, I take my phone out of my pocket and text Ella.
Me: I heard you were sick. Everything okay?
Anna comes around the corner and leads me to the massage room. Ella hasn’t written back yet, so I put the phone on silent and get ready. Anna is also a great masseuse. Who would have thought such fragile-looking women could do such a great job massaging strong athletes? But no one can beat Ella. After an hour, my body feels a thousand times better. I thank Anna and pay, then put on my motorcycle jacket, and step into the cold December day. Ella hasn’t replied to my text yet, so I decide to check up on her. I check the time. It’s only 2pm. I remember I haven’t eaten anything since this morning, and I had a grueling training session, so I go grab something to eat. I’m sure Ella could use a warm meal.
A man is just leaving her building, so I quicken my step to reach the door before it closes. I run up the stairs, and gently knock on her door. I’m standing outside for a minute, then knock harder. Finally, I hear the rattle of the keys as the door unlock. Ella opens the door a crack, and her eyes widen in surprise when she sees me standing there.
“Jake? What are you doing here?” She’s holding her hand against her forehead, leaning against the door. She looks tired, but still beautiful.
“Can I come in?” I ask her.
“I’m sick. I don’t want you to catch anything.”
“I’ll be okay. Don’t worry about me,” I say, and invite myself in.
“Seriously, I’m not feeling well. I’ve been throwing up the whole night. You’d better go.” I put the bag with food on the counter, and approach her. She wraps her bathrobe around herself protectively. I place my hand on her sweaty forehead.
“You’re burning up. You should go lie down.” Her eyes are throwing daggers my way as she puts a hand on her hip.
“Oh, really? And here I thought opening the doors is the best cure for my sickness,” she says, and I can’t help but laugh at her sarcastic comeback. Ella moves to the couch and sits down. “What do you want?” she says, visibly tired.
“Meredith told me you got sick so I brought you soup in case you’re hungry.” She gives me a questioning look and studies my face.
“Why?”
I ignore her question. “When was the last time you ate?” I ask and sit down next to her. I grab her shoulders, and pull her to me so she can rest her head in my lap. She looks at me in surprise, but doesn’t protest. I can see she’s exhausted.
“I don’t know. Yesterday evening?” It sounds like she’s asking me to tell her if that’s true. I’m stroking her hair, which is tied into a ponytail. Her eyes slowly starts to close. I put the hand that was caressing her hair on her hip and just watch her—her even breathing, her facial features. I run my fingers down her arm through the robe and she flinches.
“No!” she yells. I quickly raise both my hands in the air. “No, no, please, don’t.” I notice her eyes are still closed, but she’s shaking. She’s having a bad dream. “Josh, please, I can’t bear to lose you.” I gently shake her to wake her up. She turns to me, eyes wide open. Tears are streaming down her face, and she quickly wipes them away with the sleeve of her bathrobe.
“Nightmare?” I ask quietly. She nods and stands up. “How are you feeling? Well enough to eat some soup? It’ll be good for your stomach,” I assure her. She nods and heads to the bathroom, while I go to the kitchen and warm the soup. She’s gone for several minutes, and when she returns, the soup is already hot. I open a few cabinets, searching for bowls. I find them and take two, fill them up with soup, and put them on the table. I’m starving, but I have to take care of her first.
“Thank you,” I hear her gentle voice from behind me, and I turn. Ella is fidgeting with the belt of her robe, and our eyes meet. Damn, she’s so beautiful. She’s watching me with her sad, tired eyes.
Who hurt her? Was it Josh? The man whose name she said in her dreams? If it were any other woman, I would have fled a long time ago. I never liked to be around girls who are sick. They usually complain too much, even if they have something as trivial as a cold, and I don’t feel like listening to their whining. But not Ella. I can’t seem to leave her side. She takes two spoons out of the drawer, and hands one to me. We sit down and eat in silence. Ella then takes the bowls to the sink, and starts to wash them. I step behind her, put my hands on her shoulders, and turn her away from the sink. I take the sponge and the bowl out of her hands. She looks up at me. Our lips are dangerously close, and I can feel her warm breath against my cheek.
“Go lie down. I can handle this,” I say firmly. She nods and goes to bed without objecting.
Ella
I hear a soft knock on my door before it opens. Jake’s smiling face pokes into the room. I can’t believe the famous Jake Burns is in my apartment, and as sexy as ever. He’s wearing military-style pants, and a black shirt with long sleeves. Silver dog tags are hanging around his neck. He looks like he just stepped out of some fashion magazine.
“Everything’s clean,” he winks at me. “Can I get you anything?” he asks, and runs his hand through his hair. Biting my lower lip, I shake my head no. “How are you feeling?” He sits on the edge of my bed. Goose bumps spread all over my body. No man has been in my bedroom since Josh. I’m also grateful he cleaned my kitchen for me.
“Much better, thank you. I guess your healing soup did wonders.” His signature wide grin splits his face again.
“Happy to help.”
A few moments of uncomfortable silence follow. I sit up in bed, pull the covers across my chest, and prop my head on a pillow.
“I’m going to go now and let you rest,” he finally says, and puts his hands in his pockets.
“Okay,” is all I say.
“Okay,” he nods. “I’ll call you tonight.” I smile at him, grateful, and thank him again. I take a deep breath as he leaves and lie back down. A warm feeling spreads over my body at the thought of Jake taking care of me. I doubt he is so caring for all the girls. Yes, Jake Burns is slowly creeping into my heart.
“How are you?” Sophie asks, as we’re sitting in my kitchen. She’s drinking tea, and I’m eating the soup Jake brought over earlier. I’m feeling much better, I haven’t thrown up anymore. My appetite is slowly returning, which is a good sign.
“Better,” I say. I finally gathered enough strength to take a shower, and wash my sweaty hair.
“When do you start working?” she asks. I s
hovel a spoonful of soup in my mouth.
“Tomorrow. I’m feeling much better already. More tea?” I ask as I get up, and put the bowl into the sink.
“No time. Matt is taking me to dinner at his parents’ house. Will you be okay on your own?” she asks, concerned.
“Of course, silly. I’m totally okay,” I smile at her and give her a hug. Sophie is just putting on her coat when I hear the intercom buzz. We look at each other, and I shrug at her silent question. “Hello?” I answer the intercom. It’s strange—who would visit me at night, other than Sophie, and she is standing beside me?
“Delivery for Miss Vaughn,” a booming male voice responds. I press the button to let him into the building.
“Who was that?”
I shrug. “Delivery. But I haven’t ordered anything.”
“Delivery? That late?”
She’s right. It’s 8pm. Who delivers that late? I get the answer to my question the next second when I hear knocking on the door. I open the door slightly and look outside. A deliveryman is standing in front of me with a single red rose, and an envelope in his hands.
“This is for Miss Vaughn,” says the man, and pushes the signing sheet under my nose for me to sign.
“Who is it from?” I ask, as I smell the rose. He shrugs.
“I don’t know. I’m just the deliveryman. Have a nice night, ladies,” he says, touches his hat in greeting, and leaves.
I close the door, and impatiently open the envelope. Sophie has already taken the rose from my hands, and is searching for a vase in my cupboards.
“Jake?” she curiously asks from the kitchen.
I hope you are feeling better,
Jake
Warmth spreads in my chest as I read his note. He was just here a few hours ago, and he still sent me the rose. He’s so attentive.
“Yes,” I call back to her. Sophie is already by my side, giving me a funny look.