by Paige Steele
When she stepped into the living room wearing white shorts and a light peach tank, I just about lost it laughing. I told her even though she looked cute as hell, that was no outfit for the “dirt bike races.” I used quotes around the words “dirt bike races,” so she would clearly see what I was getting at. She laughed as she turned around and went back to her room and came out wearing her camo shorts, with a tiny black tank and her laced up, black combat boots to match. She is going to get noticed in that, for sure.
All the way over to the track, I explain to Cara about how the racing world works and what the pits are like. She seems eager to see the bikes in action and the guys in full gear. I don’t know which excites her more.
“Get me to where the action is, lady.”
“Follow the noise . . . this way,” I say, turning and heading in the direction of the track.
As we start walking through some of the pits, a couple whistles come our way. Turning around, Cara just smiles at the boys, bows, then turns back around and keeps walking with me.
“Yep, this is going to be fun!” She can’t hold back her excitement any longer. What girl doesn’t like a little attention? Looping our arms together, we head over to the fence to see the next race start. The thirty second board is just turning sideways and then they’re off. Full throttle ahead.
“Holy shit, that is amazing. Though you could have warned me of the dirt that would be flying at my face.”
“Oops, my bad,” I say, laughing out loud, as she wipes the dirt off her lips.
“A mouth full of dirt is not my idea of a good time,” she says with a smirk, just as a rider walks by half dressed. He stops and stares for a moment, smiling back at her. Cara decides to add fuel to a burning fire, by bending at the waist, flipping her hair over and shaking it out. When standing up straight, she notices that not only is he watching her closely, there are several other riders sitting on the bleachers enjoying the view she is giving them.
“Come on, trouble.” Reaching forward, I grab her hand, pulling her in my direction.
“Way to ruin my fun, party pooper,” she says, as she looks back and blows kisses at the riders.
“Having fun, were you?”
“Hell yes, this is amazing. You’ve been holding out on me, Ansley. Now I get exactly why you came to these.”
“I came to watch my two best friends race. It was a perk to see half-naked guys walking around.”
“So . . . your friends look like these guys?”
“Better.” I watch her mouth drop as I laugh at her.
“Damn girl, you really have been holding out. The pictures you have in your room only show them with clothes on . . . now I know you must have some others somewhere. I expect to see them when we get home. I say we come every weekend, especially if I can see Mr. Fine over there again. Remind me to get his number before we leave.”
“I do, and I’ll dig them out for ya. Now don’t you know, he’s supposed to ask you for your number, not the other way around?”
“Oh, hell girl, this is the twenty first century. If I like it . . . I go after it and I like that,” she says, pointing right over to where he is standing, still staring at her.
The day turns out to be a hot one and not just the temperature outside. We stay for most of the races, before heading out around four in the afternoon. But not before Cara gets the number that she wanted to get all day. His friend asks if he can call me, so we also exchange numbers. We all make plans for later in the week, since they are just from the next town over from Georgia Tech.
After we make it home, we shower, order a pizza and find the couch. A good movie with a couple glasses of wine is just what we need before classes start back up again on Monday.
Cooper
IT’S HARD TO BELIEVE we are going to graduate next week. Today is the last day of finals. We have been waiting for this day to come for what feels like ten years, when in fact it’s only been four. We have plans to hit the beach for a couple of days, to end our college days with a bang. We decide it’s going to be a day or should I say a weekend, of fun in the sun. The car is packed full of food, beer, liquor, boogie boards, and more beer and more liquor. We all just have one small bag to take with us as we aren’t packing many clothes, after all we aren’t intending on being in anything other than our board shorts.
When we get to the house we are renting on the beach, shortly before noon, everything is thrown in the house. We immediately head for the sliding glass doors, which leads us to sand. After stepping foot on the covered back porch, and then on to the deck that is huge, it feels like we are free. It’s a hot ass day but we don’t care, we all have coolers in hand, full of our favorite beverages. It also means there will be teeny tiny bikinis on the beach today, and it just so happens we are right. The triangles they wear to cover up their important parts seem like they are getting smaller. Fuck yeah, they do and it’s totally okay with me.
The first day is over, boogie boarding is a blast. We make total jackasses out of ourselves, on several different occasions today, but who the hell cares? That’s what we are supposed to do this weekend.
We scope out several hotties to invite over tonight, as well as a few cool dudes from the beach. Yep, today is a good day! We plan a bonfire on the beach; we are going to throw some food on the grill then drink until our hearts are content. Standing in the kitchen, the shots are lined up. Fireball is going to burn, but it’s worth the pain. The toast is made loud and clear by yours truly. I thank the guys for a great four years and for some of the best memories. I shout it as I raised my shot glass to each of them, and Fireball does just what it promises to do . . . burn all the way down.
I meet up with a smoking hot strawberry blonde tonight. I intend, with everything I have, to find out if she was born a true strawberry blonde. Her hair drapes down her back about midway. She is tiny . . . a lot like . . . nope, I’m not going there tonight. The thought of her, meaning Ansley, has fucked up my night on several occasions, but not tonight, I can promise you that.
Sun Daze by Florida Georgia Line comes over the speakers. I spot little Miss Strawberry across the room and beeline it for her. I want my hands full of her ass. We start dancing together on the back deck, with a bunch of other people. The fire is flying high and the drinks are going down quite easy. Each one of my roommates has their bodies against someone as well.
I walk to one of the back bedrooms with this little chick in tow. I look back to see her biting her lip, while looking sexy as hell. I can’t wait to remove each item of clothing from her body, nice and slow. Then I intend to wrap her body around mine.
She isn’t shy; when we walk in, she shuts the door. I turn to find her untying her bikini top, one string at a time. I start backing up toward the bed as I watch her every move. Creeping forward, she moves to stand in front of me. Reaching forward, she pushes me until the back of my knees hit the side of the bed. Then with one more shove, I am lying back on my elbows in the bed, as she starts to pull that last string from around her neck. My board shorts that I’m wearing are starting to feel a bit tighter. I need to rectify this problem immediately. I start to pull the black tie on my shorts as she pulls one of the side strings attached to her bottoms. Even though I’m enjoying this little striptease show she is giving, I push off the bed, reaching forward, placing my hands low on her hips. Walking her backward until she is pressed up tightly to the wall, I pull on the last string holding her bottoms on. She sucks in a breath as I bring my mouth to the side of her neck.
When I wake the next morning and look around the room, I’m alone . . . What the hell? I know I went to bed in here with my strawberry treat . . . Where is she? I walk into the kitchen and one of my roommates is already cleaning up. I am informed by him that she left about an hour ago with his girl. Well, I guess I didn’t have to worry about goodbye . . . did I? Isn’t that a guy thing . . . or did I miss something?
The next day and night are pretty much the same as the day before. We hang out on the beach all day an
d party all night. Now it’s time to head back to college, walk across that stage and take that piece of paper back to my father. I will be spending some time at home while I pack up. Then I have a long drive to make in about a week, as well as turning a dream into a reality.
I CAME TO CALIFORNIA six months ago. I graduated May seventeenth and drove away from my parents on the twenty-fourth. When I first came out, I was staying in a small apartment and riding in some of the races around the area. While practicing on Saturday at a track I was told about by a local rider, a couple of the pros had shown up as well. They tend to hit the local tracks at different times during the week to practice before the next race. That day changed my life. I guess you could say I was in the right place at the right time. I rode hard and kept up with the couple of guys that were there. They were from the Factory Yamaha Team. We shot the shit after riding for hours together. They were pretty cool. We exchanged numbers and said we’d keep in touch. I figured I wouldn’t hear anything from them actually, so I went on riding as usual for the next couple of weeks. I never heard from them exactly, but I guess they had discussed me with their team manager. He had come to two different races where I swept both motos, taking first, and I never knew it. That’s what made him reach out to me, wanting to sit down and discuss some things.
They offered me a tentative contract, which meant I had to prove myself before they would officially sign me to any deal. I’ve been practicing day and night and working out harder than ever before, there is no way I’m going to fuck this up. Ryan has even made it a priority to help me train on his only day off. He comes out and rides with me, pushing me to be the best I’ve ever been.
YES . . . IF YOU ARE wondering, I did get signed by Team Yamaha about two months ago. Just like Ryan did when he started, I have a three year contract with them. Once I told my parents about it, my father reached out to me, wanting to have his lawyer take a look at the contract. Believe it or not, he actually seems like he cares. I was completely taken back by it; though I’m happy, I still can’t figure out the change in attitude yet.
I was asked to finish out the Motocross season for them when one of their current riders was injured. As incredible as it’s been, it’s also been crazy . . . riding and training, Monday through Friday and racing on Saturdays.
Out here I share a house with five other team members. I’ve gotten to be good friends with a couple of them, and then there are a couple jackasses, too. There always are. Jesse Anderson is one of the coolest guys I’ve ever met and we’ve become great friends. We both ride in the lites class on the team and practice together. The house we live in is pretty awesome. Besides having its own private practice track out back, there is a huge gym and an in ground pool with a hot tub attached. Each of us has our own private bedroom suite. Our bathrooms are state of the art . . . with a killer walk in shower, sporting a raindrop shower head, as well as several sprayers on the wall. Which is perfect after a long day of beating our bodies out on the track. The kitchen . . . well it’s a chef’s dream and the rest of the house is incredible as well.
I just finished practicing with three of my teammates, while the other two are going out a bit later; they are working out right now. I walk into the house and head up the stairs, taking them two at a time. I need to jump in the shower. It’s Friday and I’m heading out to meet up with Ryan for the weekend. Even if we are competitors, it doesn’t stop our friendship. Though we don’t get a chance to see each other as much as we would like to lately, we still text and call as often as we can. This is one of our free weekends to do as we like and we don’t see too many of these. We usually have practice all week, including the weekend mornings. But when we do get downtime, it means there’s still Friday morning and late day on Sunday practices, but Friday night, Saturday all day and Sunday morning is ours to do as we please. I still try to get some sort of workout in, as well as some fun. I’m driving down from Brentwood to Danville to stay at his place. After I throw on a pair of board shorts and tank, I grab my bag and am out the door.
I have some big news to share with Ryan. I was asked to race the Supercross circuit for Team Yamaha. I guess I showed them enough in the last few races in Motocross because they’ve asked me stay on longer. Ryan switched teams last year and is riding for the Factory Honda team now. He starts on the line for them and took fifth overall in points last year. Supercross is harder, in some ways, to ride than Motocross. We need to qualify every week to be able to race in the main event. The races are held in football stadiums across the country. Many of the jumps are higher, corners sharper, and sections of the track have straightaways with several jumps in a row, also known as the whoop section. Those jumps are all close together and lower to the ground, but you need skill to keep the bike steady as it glides across the top of them. Where you place in the main event determines what points you are given at the end of the night. Once the entire season is over, which runs from January to early May, the points are added to see who will receive the number one plate and million dollar cash prize. For a rider to be asked to ride both Motocross and Supercross is a big deal and I am blessed that they are going to give me a shot at it. I can’t wait to see what I can do against the big dogs on all the different teams.
I arrive at Ryan’s at about three in the afternoon. We’re going to head out to get something to eat and have a couple beers. Nothing too extreme, we are still in training for the upcoming season. But I need to tell him about what happened between Ansley and me; it’s time for me to lay it all out, so he knows why it’s been so awkward.
“Holy fuck, it’s good to see you, man.” We give the half hug, half pat on the back to each other.
“Damn right it is,” he says as we walk into his house. I can say his house is as large as ours and as nice. A couple of his teammates are still home, they only nod to acknowledge me, when Ryan introduces us. I’ve gotten to know that there are some people that are great in this industry, but there are others, well, let’s just say, who aren’t worth your breath to speak to.
I set my stuff down in the spare room that is at the end of the hallway, just down from the kitchen on the first floor. After shooting the shit over a beer here, we decide we’ll head out for dinner at a local bar that Ryan says has killer burgers.
“Nice bar, man. Love the laid back feel here. I like it.”
“It is. We tend to come here a couple times a month because the locals leave us alone to eat in peace. Let’s order at the bar then I’ll kick your ass in darts.”
I laugh. “Oh, really? I see some things never change.”
We shoot a couple of games before our food comes out. We sit at the bar, ordering two more Coors Lights to go with our burgers. It smells incredible and I’m starving. I don’t veer off the meal plan that we are to follow very often, so on our off weekends, I usually indulge a bit. I’m taking advantage of it now.
“So, how’s Mom and Dad?” I missed his parents. There were like family to me.
“They were out just about three months ago but only for the weekend. They wanted to get over to see you, but I knew it was when Yamaha was ready to sign you. I didn’t want you to have any distractions. They said they would catch up with you the next time they come out.”
“Damn, I wish I could have gotten to see them. But I understand why you didn’t bring them by.”
“So, what else is going on?”
“Well, I was just asked this week to race on the team for the Supercross season. One of our riders is still on the mend from an injury. They are just going to keep him out till Motocross, for more healing time.”
“That’s incredible, Coop. Congrats!” Ryan raises his bottle to me and drinks down the rest of his beer.
“You know how I told you I wanted to talk to you about Ansley?”
“Yeah, what’s up?”
“Well, things haven’t been right with the two of us since we left for college.”
“Ok.”
“Ok?” I can’t figure it out, he is acting like he doesn’t
care or like he already knows.
“A while ago, she kinda said that same thing.”
“What else did she say?” I ask it with a sharp tone in my voice, but I don’t care, I’m irritated.
“Relax, Coop, she said that she didn’t know what to say to you since the kiss.”
He is eating while talking, as if it isn’t a big deal at all; to me it’s huge. I’m getting more and more irritated by the minute.
“What the fuck, Ryan? If you knew that happened between us, I wish you would have said something to me.”
“Really? I knew something was going on and figured one of you would spill it when you were ready. And honestly, a kiss isn’t a big deal, so I don’t know what the problem is.”
“Agreed, but she won’t talk to me, and I don’t know how to fix that. Did you tell her that?”
“Yes, pretty much. Now, let me ask you a question . . . did that kiss mean something to you? Do you have feelings for Ansley?”
“Shit, I don’t know, to tell ya the truth. I mean she’s my best friend, or at least I think she is.”
“Coop, she will always be our best friend. If you called her tomorrow and told her you needed her, she’d come running. It’s not in her to be mean to anyone, especially us.”
“I know that, but right now, I feel like she’s running further away from me. I just need to talk to her once, so I can explain to her I didn’t plan for it to happen, it just did.”
“Well, give her a bit longer, she’ll come around when she’s ready.”
“She’s never been able to stay mad at us before. This has been going on over four years.”
“The difference is she isn’t mad, she’s confused.”
“Yeah, I guess.”