Running From Forever

by Ashley Wilcox

  “No. No, that’s not what I meant. I was just…”

  “Kidding. Again,” I reassured her, looking over and seeing that the clock on my nightstand read only seven o’clock. “Christ, woman, what’re you doing up this early? We just went to bed three hours ago.”

  “I had to pee.”

  “Are ya done?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Are ya coming back to bed then?”

  She didn’t answer, instead, she walked to the other side of the bed and folded back the sheets, crawling in next to me with her back against mine, making me smile. Even as badly hungover as I was, the girl still made me grin. I didn’t know what it was about her, but I knew that I couldn’t let her go now that I had her.

  ***

  “Ahh, make it stop!” Kayla shouted, throwing her pillow over her head. “That’s the worst frickin’ noise I have ever heard!”

  Chuckling, I leaned over and turned the alarm clock sitting next to me off. It’s a miracle, given the state I was in last night, or this morning, I guess, that I even remembered to set it.

  “Why do you have an alarm clock set for twelve o’clock in the afternoon on a Saturday?”

  “You see, most people use them to wake them up at a specific time. I figured I’d give it a try.”

  “I’m well aware of their purpose, asshole.” She rolled over to face me. “But normal people don’t use them on the weekends…in the middle of the day…after drinking their face off the night before.”

  “Some people work two jobs, princess,” I joked, throwing my pillow at her face as I sat up and hung my legs over the side of the bed, my back facing her. “Ones that require you to work even on a Saturday.” I rubbed my face

  “So what’s your second job?” she asked.

  I felt the bed shift as she changed position and looked over my shoulder, turning slightly with one eyebrow raised.

  “Wanna come find out?”

  I wasn’t ready for her to leave, but I knew I had to get going. My only option was to ask her to come with me.

  “Are you going to get in trouble for bringing me?”

  “Uh…no.” Not that I gave a fuck anyway.

  “I don’t have anything to wear.”

  I looked her up and down and raised a questioning eyebrow. “I believe you have clothes on right now, sunshine.”

  “I can’t wear this!”

  I walked over to my dresser, pulled out a pair of sweatpants and a tee that were a little small on me, then threw them to where she was still sitting on my bed. I grabbed the flip flops from the bar’s lost and found box in my closet.

  “Better?”

  “I guess a little.”

  “No one’s going to give a fuck. Trust me.”

  “So, are you going to tell me where you work?” she asked, spitting out the toothpaste in her mouth while I brushed my teeth next to her.

  “You’ll see.” I grinned before nudging her to the side so I could rinse my mouth out, too.

  “Is it illegal?” she asked as we stepped off the train.

  “What?!” I turned and looked at her like she was insane. Did she really think I was doing illegal stuff? I thought I looked like a pretty legit guy…

  “What? I had to ask!”

  “No, it’s not illegal!” I answered, annoyed. I squatted down in front of her.

  “What’re you doing?”

  “Taking a shit on the sidewalk—what does it look like I’m doing? Get on my frickin’ back.”

  “You’re giving me a piggyback ride?” she asked as she climbed on.

  “It’s a long walk and I don’t want to hear you whine,” I told her, standing up and starting to head in the direction we needed to go.

  “You don’t have a car?”

  “Jesus Christ, do you always ask this many fucking questions? No, I don’t have a car, we live in the fucking city.”

  She laughed. “K, I won’t ask another one,” she said, making me smile. “At least not until we get there,” she added, causing me to shake my head and her to chuckle again.

  By the time we got there, I could barely feel my legs, and dropped her once my feet hit the parking lot.

  “Regretting not having a car, huh?” she joked, seeing me panting with my hands on my knees.

  “No, I just underestimated how much you weighed.”

  That, I knew, warranted a smack, and that’s exactly what I received, but she didn’t fight it, instead laughed it off. By now she got my personality and knew that I was clearly joking. The girl didn’t have an ounce of fat on her anyway.

  “So, a stadium?” she started, pulling her hair up into some kind of mess pile on the top of her head. “What do you sell hot dogs or something?”

  “Not even close.” I smirked, grabbing her hand and pulling her towards the entrance, making her squeal before picking up the pace and following.

  Her face was priceless once we got past the under concession area, walking into the pits where my trailer and team were waiting. “Wha—wait a minute,” she fumbled, coming to a stop, making my body jerk backwards. “You race dirt bikes?”

  I grinned then pulled her forward, making us walk again. “You got it,” I confirmed, glancing quickly over my shoulder.

  She didn’t say another word and only smiled and nodded her head when I introduced her to the rest of my team. When I say my team, I really mean a few of my buddies, ones I grew up with. We all shared the same passion for dirt biking, I was just the only one that tried to make a living off of it. It wasn’t bringing in nearly as much as the bar did, but it paid its way and some small bills too, allowing me to still use the excuse of it being a second job instead of just a hobby.

  The guys checked everything out on my bike and got it running while I changed into my riding suit. I couldn’t help but notice Kayla’s eyes on me the whole time. I’d never brought a girl with me there, but with Kayla, it was different. She wasn’t just any girl to me. Yeah, she had all the right parts, but there wasn’t that need-to-fuck-her-right-now attraction. She was just different.

  Bev gave me my number, pinning it onto my chest and back, taking notice of Kayla before walking away. I had to chuckle to myself. Bev was my best friend, Micah’s, mom, and in a way, mine, too. She and her husband, Steve, were big in the motocross world, organizers of almost every big race. Back in the day, Steve was the one to beat, bringing in the checkered flag at almost every race. He was our idol growing up, and we spent hours and hours in their backyard, which happened to be set up like a motocross track, trying to mimic his moves, practicing to be just like him someday.

  Once I was ready, I did my usual prerace ritual—I sat on my bike, helmet on, eyes shut, clearing the world around from my brain. Usually everyone stayed silent while I did it, but this time I heard a little voice, one that sounded worried, asking Micah if I was going to be okay. It made me smile. She cared; she was worried about me.

  “Merrick? He’s a fucking rock star,” he tried to whisper, but Micah’s whisper was like a normal person’s everyday voice. We blamed it on always being around loud noises and going half deaf because of it. “He hasn’t lost a race in over a year. Nothing to worry about, honey.”

  Curiosity getting the best of me, I had to look over to her, not being able to hear her response. She was frozen, arms crossed over her chest, looking like she was going to shit her pants. I needed to calm her nerves, so I gestured for her to come over next to me. She did, coming up along the side of my bike.

  “I wouldn’t have brought you here if I thought something would happen,” I reassured her, holding her upper arm loosely with my hand. She nodded her head, forcing a smile. “But I think it’s pretty fucking cute that you’re worried about me.”

  That brought the real deal to her face. “I’d be just as worried if you were some ugly asshole, too, so calm the ego.”

  I shook my head, chuckling. “Wait, so you think I’m hot?” I joked, pointing my thumb to my chest, making her roll her eyes. “This would have been valuable
information last night.”

  “You’re annoying,” she said, shaking her head before turning. “Good luck, rock star,” she added without looking back. She walked over to my trailer and joined the rest of the guys.

  My concentration went to shit, still smiling from her sass. The girl cracked me up. Maybe bringing her wasn’t the best idea after all.

  Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Kayla climb up the ladder on the side of the trailer behind the others, getting their spot on top to watch the race. I was shocked to say the least, not believing she was going to watch. I thought for sure, by the way she was freaking out, that she would stay below and just wait, but she surprised the shit out of me doing the opposite. It gave me another shot of adrenaline before following the other guys out to the track. I wasn’t sure why, but it felt good having her there.

  Rolling up to the starting gates, my mind finally cleared and I forgot about Kayla, life, and Kayla. It wasn’t an easy task, but I succeeded. There was nothing that could hold me back when I was on that track. It was my safe haven, a place where nothing else mattered, a place I could always rely on throughout my youth and now into my adulthood. When I had nothing left in life, besides my friends, I always had the track to run to. It was freeing…

  With my sights focused on nothing but the metal bars in front of me, I gripped my handlebars and watched for the drop, not missing a second in between. I got my lead, straight from the get go, building speed and precision with each turn I made. I knew I was out in front but didn’t know how far. Other racers used headsets to stay in touch with their pits, but I never used one; it was too much of a distraction. I didn’t need to know where I was at or how many people were in front or back of me. I only needed to race. I would do the best I could, take each turn and jump to the best of my ability, and count the laps in my head with each pass over the finish line. I was on my last one, feeling good, taking the turns effortlessly. No one was crunching in beside me or trying to inch their way in front. I had a good lead and I knew it. I took the finish line with ease, looking up to the screen as I crossed to see my name in the number one slot.

  Another victory was mine.

  I met the racers that placed second and third along with Bev, Steve and some other sponsors in the winning circle, and saw my team running infield for congratulations. It wasn’t until I saw Kayla trailing behind them that my smile grew, stretching the length of my face. She came right up to me, throwing her arms around my neck as soon as she got close enough. The feeling was surreal. Even if she was only dressed in my old sweatpants and t-shirt, she was immaculate and beautiful. And hugging me, which wasn’t bad, either.

  “Oh my God, that was insane!” she cried, stepping back. Excitement filled her face, making her exhilaration spread throughout me. She felt my passion and I loved it. “Ahh! I can’t believe you won, I mean I can, but not by that much,” she continued to ramble, making my smile brighten. The girl was fucking adorable, and the fact that she went from devastation last night to bouncing with excitement today all because of me sent a rush inside that no winning could ever compare to.

  After accepting my check and saying a little speech on how I won, we packed up and headed back into the city, this time taking a cab to the train station from the stadium. My legs couldn’t take another piggy back ride and Kayla swore she couldn’t carry me all that way.

  It was well after five when we finally got back to my apartment. We were both exhausted from last night’s boozing and the long day at the track, and we crashed on my bed as soon as we saw it. I made sure to set my alarm for an hour later, getting the same reaction as I did earlier when it went off.

  “What the hell?” she shouted, covering her head with the pillow again. “How does that sound not drive you crazy?”

  I didn’t respond, just laughed quietly and headed to the bathroom to shower and get ready for work. I opened late on Saturdays, since I usually had races during the day. Thankfully, it didn’t seem to be hurting business much. Kayla hadn’t moved by the time I returned. I wondered what she was going to do while I was gone. She still hadn’t mentioned anything about last night and I didn’t want to prod.

  “Coming downstairs later?” I asked, running deodorant under my arms and spritzing my shirt with cologne.

  She looked at me, disgusted. “Ugh, I can’t even think about alcohol right now.” She puffed her cheeks out, acting sick. “Can I stay here, though? Do you mind?”

  I shook my head and met her eyes through my mirror. “No, of course not.” I definitely wouldn’t complain about her staying there. I’d never lived with a girl or had one stay at my place for more than a night, so I didn’t know what the protocol was. Though, with Kayla it was different. She wasn’t a girl looking for a lay or a handout, she was more like an old friend who came to visit for the weekend. She gave my home a comfortable feeling. I couldn’t explain why, she just did. “Stay as long as you want,” I told her, meaning it one hundred percent.

  An appreciative grin curled at the side of her mouth. She looked so fucking adorable sitting on my bed, hair a mess, no makeup on, and wearing my clothes. It was a weird feeling the girl gave me. I couldn’t put my finger on what it was. It wasn’t lust—I didn’t have the urge to jump her bones, but it couldn’t be love, either—we barely knew each other. It definitely was something, I knew that much. Kayla was someone I wanted to spend all my time with—she was a breath of fresh air in my monotonous life. The immediate level of comfort she added to my life was something I’d never found with anyone.

  “Thanks. I should go home at some point, but I’m just not ready yet,” she said, shrugging her shoulders.

  I really didn’t want to leave her. Even though we had a blast together for almost the last twenty-four hours, I knew she had shit going on in her life, and I didn’t want her to be alone to reminisce about it. “You sure you don’t wanna come downstairs? I can have my cook make you something to eat if you want.” I was borderline begging. I needed to be downstairs, but needed her to be okay, too.

  A bigger smile tugged on her lips. “I’m good. Don’t worry about me.” She waved me away with her hand. “I’m going to take a shower and veg for a little bit. Maybe I’ll stop down later for some food.”

  The answer would have to do. The bar didn’t bring in enough money for me to have someone cover it. It was only me and my other buddy, Skyler, who held down the kitchen. He didn’t know shit about making drinks or counting money, so there wasn’t a chance in hell that I’d trust him behind the bar.

  “K, take the back staircase off the kitchen. It’ll lead you right down to the bar’s kitchen,” I told her, not sure if she remembered the way we came up this morning. Since I had to carry her up the entire way, I was pretty sure it wasn’t saved in her memory box.

  She nodded and smiled. “Back staircase. Got it.”

  I stopped and kissed the top of her head before continuing to the door. It wasn’t something I had planned to do, but came naturally. “I’ll see you in a little bit then, maybe,” I said, facing her from the door frame.

  “Yup, have fun,” she replied before I disappeared into the living room then out the back door.

  I stood at the top of the stairs, torn. It didn’t seem okay leaving. I knew she needed someone there with her, and I wanted that someone to be me. She was fragile; I knew this, and I wanted to be her shoulder to cry on, like I was last night. I wanted to kill that fucker. She hadn’t told me the extended version, but I knew damn well her misery was because of him. It was just the type of fucker Miles Blackwell was. Besides the money, I couldn’t tell what every fucking woman in the city saw in him. He was a tool, one that took over daddy’s fortune without having to lift a finger. It was no wonder that his sister despised him. I’d heard stories. Almost every non-exec from ETV came into the bar every Tuesday and Thursday, and when given the right amount of alcohol, the volume of gossip they shared increased. From what I heard, his sister worked her ass off to get to the top and Miles was handed the title by j
ust graduating from college. Apparently he shocked everyone by doing an okay job, but still, he was a spoiled little shit that was given anything he wanted and didn’t give a rat’s ass about anyone but himself.

  The bar was hopping; a complete one-eighty from the night before. I was running from one end to the other with dirty glasses piling up in the sink. I had no time to chit chat with customers and thankfully no time to dwell on Kayla upstairs by herself. I hadn’t heard from her, so I assumed she was okay. It wasn’t until eleven o’clock rolled around that I stopped in my tracks, ignoring anyone needing drinks waiting. Douchebag walked in. What is that stupid fucker doing here? The only other times he’d been inside these walls were the two times he came there looking for Kayla. I had a feeling this time was no different.

  Ignoring everyone else, I walked over to where he was now sitting, rage filling my insides. I wanted to go apeshit on his ass but had to remember that I owned the place and causing a scene could ruin my business.

  “Drink?” I asked through gritted teeth, trying to divert my energy by wiping the bar in front of me with a rag.

  He looked up, studying my face. It was then that I noticed how shitty he looked. Don’t get me wrong, I always thought he did, but he looked even worse. Don’t tell me the fucker actually cared?

  “Gin and tonic,” he answered in a somber tone.

  Christ, he did care. I wasn’t going to talk to him about Kayla, though, nor tell him where she was. Regardless of how he felt, he fucked up, and didn’t deserve her. I wasn’t sure anyone did, but I knew for certain he didn’t.

  The house gin was set on the other side of the bar, but I didn’t lose sight of him while I poured it. I didn’t trust the guy, especially since I had no fucking clue why the hell he chose my bar to sulk at tonight. Did he follow her here last night? Did he know she was with me today? I couldn’t be sure, and I didn’t put it past him to have someone following her; I knew he had little minions that he paid to do shit for him. It’s crazy what money could buy—this I knew from my own shitty upbringing.