by Amy Sparling
Copyright © 2017 Amy Sparling
All rights reserved.
First Edition June 2017
Cover image from BigStockPhoto.com
Typography from FontSquirrel.com
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems -except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews-without permission in writing from the author at [email protected]
This book is a work of fiction. The characters, events, and places portrayed in this book are products of the author’s imagination and are either fictitious or are used fictitiously. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.
Table of Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
About the Author
Chapter 1
Keanna
It’s a beautiful Texas day. Well, as beautiful as it can get in the middle of August. The sun is beating down on us as if its only goal in life is to tan everyone to a crisp. But even though it’s hotter than hades outside, it’s still a pretty day. A day that shouldn’t be spent in the stuffy library of the local community college, surrounded by people who would all clearly rather be somewhere else.
I gaze at the long line ahead of me. It’s amazing how many people don’t know how to use a freaking computer. I would be at home today, among the people who do know how to use a computer, if some utility worker hadn’t made an epic screw up.
Early in the morning, while messing with the cables that run underground, some guy from the cable company accidently severed the lines that bring internet to our apart of the town. My parents got an email (ironically, which they had to read on their cell phones) apologizing for the inconvenience and saying they hope to have internet restored by next week.
Next week will be too late to register for college classes. Next week doesn’t help me at all.
I tried registering for classes on my phone, but the website is not made for that, and it just didn’t work. So, I had to do what my mom called the old school thing, and head up to the college during one of their registration days. That means standing in long lines to talk to a counselor who will help you fill out a paper with the classes you want to register for. Then you have to take that paper to the admissions office and pay tuition. Last semester, I did it all online in just a few minutes, all from the comfort of my pajamas.
It’s like the freaking stone ages in here. I chuckle to myself as I gaze around at the twenty or so people standing ahead of me. We’re sectioned off by last names, and the H through P section is the longest. Go figure. It doesn’t escape my notice that most of the people in these lines are older, people in their forties and so who are going back to college. I guess they still prefer doing things the manual way.
I send a text to Jett to pass the boredom.
Me: I miss technology.
Jett: You’re using technology right now…
Me: I miss the internet…at my home…
Jett: Are you still at the college?
Me: Yep…waiting in line to register.
Jett: that sucks. I’m almost home…I figured you’d be home too.
Jett had left bright and early this morning to pick up his dirt bike from the only shop around that does the best suspension work. It’s nearly in Houston, so it was a long drive. I glance at the time—11:15, and realize I’ve been here for over an hour.
Me: Help me…this line is never ending
Jett: I’ll drop off my bike and head your way
I smile. Sure, I feel a little guilty for making Jett come up here just to keep me company, but that’s what boyfriends do. His only other plans today were to ride his dirt bike, and you can ride a dirt bike any time of day. There’s only a few hours you get to stand in line with your girlfriend, being bored out of your mind. Ha!
By the time he gets here, there’s only two people ahead of me, and both of them turn to watch Jett walk up. He’s a force of sexuality, that boy. Wearing black shorts, Adidas shoes, and a Team Loco blue T-shirt, he looks just as good as he smells.
“Hi babe,” he says, sliding an arm around my waist as he presses a kiss to my cheek. “This line isn’t long at all.”
I smack him on the chest. “That’s because I’ve already been waiting for hours.”
He grins and takes the brochure from my hand, thumbing through the dog-eared pages. “So, what classes are you signing up for?”
“Just basic stuff. History, Government, English, a stupid PE class called Powerwalking.” I shrug. “The core stuff. Luckily I have another year of basic classes before I need to figure out what I want to study.”
“It’s weird,” Jett says, handing the brochure back to me. His lips slide to the side of his mouth as he thinks. “I’m like…a little jealous? But mostly not. I mean, you’re in college and that’s awesome, and I kind of want to be in college, but I’d rather ride a bike for a living, you know?”
He grins at me in this horribly cute way that still makes my toes tingle after all this time.
“Yeah well college is what normal people do. The people without crazy dirt bike skills.”
“Are you ready to register?” The woman behind the table’s voice startles me. I can’t believe I’m already at the front of the line. Being with Jett always makes the time go by faster. I should bring him with me every time I have to wait for something.
When I’m officially signed up for classes, we take my registration papers to the school bookstore so I can get all the textbooks I’ll need. Jett looks around in wonder as we trek across the school campus, sticking to the sidewalks that link all of the buildings together even though most people just cut through the grass.
“This place is pretty cool,” he says. He steps to the side so a guy walking toward us can get by, then he moves back to standing next to me. “It’s like how colleges are in the movies. All these people with backpacks and laptops, walking around being all hip and millennial.”
I snort out a laugh. “You’re such a dork. We are millennials, you know that right?”
“Yeah, but we’re cooler than most people. Hey, look at that!” He points toward the art building where large sculptures are set up on display in the courtyard. His eyes go wide. “It’s fancy art. How very collegiate.”
I roll my eyes. “This is just a community college, you know. The bigger universities are probably a million times cooler than this place.”
“I didn’t really want to go to college, but being here is making me change my mind.”
“Wait until you see all the homework and essays I have to write after the semester starts. You’ll change your mind again.”
“Yeah, I forgot about that,” he says, curling his lip in disgust.
We reach the bookstore, which is a large circular building with a domed ceiling that’s mostly skylights. It was built in the eighties so it smells like musty old building in here, but it’s still pretty cool. A blast of cold air conditioning hits me as I walk inside with Jett right behind me.
Smooth jazz music plays overhead and the two students working behind the counter are sporting several tattoos and LCC college shirts.
“Babe!” Jett says playfully as he wanders over to a rack of those LCC shirts. “Why don’t you have any of this awesome merch?” He holds up a hot pink shirt with the school’s logo on the front.
I roll my eyes and s
hove his hand away. “Because I don’t have any school spirit, that’s why.”
“We’re going to change that,” he says, taking the pink shirt off the hanger and then reaching for a lime green one. “You’re my college girl now, and you should be proud.” He throws the shirts over his shoulder and then moves to a rack of LCC school supplies.
Yeah, all of the school stuff is kind of cool, but I’ve never bought any because all the people I see at the motocross track always wear real college stuff. Like state universities, or ivy league schools. Community college feels so lame.
When I think back to being raised by my biological mother and how we were nothing but white trash, I do feel proud that I’m enrolled in at least some college, even though it’s not a fancy one. Maybe I do need a shirt.
Jett follows me toward the book section, his arms loaded down with silly LCC things he thinks I need. We go through the list of my four classes this semester and find all the books I’ll need.
The total comes to just over five hundred dollars, but luckily, I have a scholarship for a thousand dollars that I earned from a local electric company. All I had to do was write an essay on why I loved Lawson, Texas. Since Lawson is the town that gave me my new parents, my boyfriend, and my future, it was pretty easy to write.
Jett insists on buying the LCC stuff for me, and one of the cashiers can’t seem to keep her eyes off him. I’ve seen that look in girls’ eyes before. They think he’s hot and they can’t help but stare. It used to make me jealous, but now it makes me feel kind of awesome. Jett is the guy every girl wants, and yet he’s all mine.
What’s even cuter is that if a girl isn’t actively flirting with him, he doesn’t even notice it. I guess if you’re crazy hot, maybe you get used to people gawking at you nonstop.
Jett carries my books and shopping bag in one hand and throws the other one over my shoulder as we make our way back out to the parking lot. “Have I ever told you how amazingly beautiful you are?” he asks.
I give him a sarcastic look. “Maybe once or twice.”
“Well, you are. I’m so lucky to have you.”
I just grin like an idiot at that comment. Jett has been in an amazing mood ever since his summer race series ended with him taking the first place trophy. He and the other three rookie guys from Team Loco raced in this ten week summer series that took place all over the nation. There were twenty other racers as well, some of them on professional motocross teams like Jett, and some were just private racers hoping for their lucky break. Out of all ten races, they average up everyone’s stats, and although Jett ended up taking second place two times, he still got first place overall. Another guy from Team Loco named Clay Summers took second place overall and then Aiden Strauss was third place. It was the first time a single professional race team had their own riders on the podium, so it was a big win for Team Loco in general.
I’ll never forget the look on Jett’s face at that last race in California, when he stepped up on the podium and they handed him the first place trophy. I’ve never seen him smile so big, and I’ve never been so proud in my life.
Now he gets the rookie position on the professional arenacross races this year. The season starts in a couple of weeks and his other Team Loco rookies will be there to cheer him on. As much as I loved traveling with Jett for the last four races of the summer season, now that college is starting, I’ll only be able to go to the races that are close by. Luckily, arenacross comes to Houston, San Antonio, and Dallas this season. I’m going to be at every one, cheering him on as he pursues his dreams.
Chapter 2
Jett
Arenacross is a whole different beast from motocross, which is held outside on an open track. It’s even different from supercross, which is inside a stadium. They’re similar, but arenacross is small. Very small. A tight track with lots of jumps and hardly any room to move around. They’re usually held in smaller stadiums, like the one happening this weekend in San Antonio, Texas. There aren’t any arenacross tracks at home to practice on, and since most of them are built specifically for one race and then demolished so the stadium can host concerts and stuff, I never get to practice.
I’m not going to say I’m nervous, exactly. I’m just a little ready to get this over with.
My ultimate goal is to race in the actual AMA Motocross seasons. That’s the most professional of professional that you can get. Right now, I still have to race these smaller things and prove myself worthy to my team. Team Loco has a dozen other riders who are in their twenties and thirties who come from all over the world, and most of them can probably kick my ass on the track. Dad tells me not to worry about it because I’ll get there eventually. I’m confident that I will, but I have to put up with these smaller pro races first.
I throw my suitcase onto my bed and find two old socks left over in there from when I used it last time. Gross. I toss them into the dirty laundry hamper and then get to work packing up for two days in San Antonio. It’s only a few hours away, so Keanna and I decided to drive. Airplanes get stuffy and old after a while. I’d way rather spend three hours in my truck alone with Keanna than forty five minutes in a plane with strangers.
When all my stuff is packed, I haul it downstairs and set it by the back door so I’ll be ready to go at nine in the morning. My mom is hosting family dinner tonight to say goodbye to us, even though we’re only going to be gone for two freaking days. She’s making lasagna though, so I’m not going to complain.
When Keanna comes over for dinner, her parents and little brother are with her. Her parents, Becca and Park, are best friends with my parents. Most of the time this is a great thing because they’re all pretty chill as far as parents go.
Other times it can be totally embarrassing.
“There’s my future son-in-law,” Becca says as she walks by. She ruffles my hair, which is something she’s done to me ever since I was a little kid. But now that I’m six feet tall and she’s still five foot three, it kind of loses it’s meaning because she has to reach up so high.
I tell her hello and I ignore the future son-in-law comment. They always do that—act like we’re getting married soon, or sometimes like we already are married. I love Keanna with all of my heart and when I gave her that promise ring that she wears on her left hand, I knew one day it’d be switched out with an engagement ring.
But having your parents talk about it all the time is a little annoying. I know they’re just happy for us, but I don’t ever want our relationship to feel like something that’s been laid out for us without our input. When I officially propose to Keanna, I want it to be because we chose to take that step in our lives, not because we feel obligated to.
“Hey,” I say, reaching out and brushing my fingers down Keanna’s arm.
She gives me this exasperated smile, and it’s probably because of what her mom just said.
We all sit around the dining table: my parents, Keanna’s parents, our little siblings, and us. Mom’s lasagna is delicious as always, and my baby sister Brooke, who is only four months old, looks at it like she wishes she could eat some instead of drinking her bottle.
Keanna’s brother Elijah is old enough to eat it, but he makes more of a mess with his food in his high chair that actually eating it.
The parents talk about whatever, and Keanna and I kind of split into our own world. We sit close together at the end of the table, my leg touching hers, my elbow brushing against hers as we eat.
It seems to take forever, but finally dinner is over. The parents all tell me good luck at my races this weekend, and I thank them and then drag Keanna upstairs to my room for some privacy.
***
Keanna didn’t allow us to stay up too late last night since we have to wake up early today, but I still feel like shit when my alarm goes off. My girlfriend is up and ready though, bouncing off my bed as if she’s been infused with the sunshine that’s filtering in from my blinds.
“No…” I say, rolling over in bed and hitting snooze on my phone’s
alarm. “Five more minutes.”
“Babe!” Keanna says, walking over to my side of the bed. It’d taken only a little bit of begging on my part to get her to spend the night last night. She looks hot as hell wearing my T-shirt over her panties. She puts her hands on her hips. “You said if we leave by eight-thirty then we’ll have time to get bagels.”
“I did say that,” I say, pulling the pillow over my head. I take a deep breath and then sit up even though all I want to do is sleep some more.
There’s this bagel place on the outskirts of town and they sell New York style bagels that are freaking amazing. But the line is always long so it’s hard to stop on our way if we don’t have time to waste.
Keanna brushes her teeth while I get dressed, and I watch her from the reflection in the bathroom mirror. She’s wearing shorts and a tank top but she looks adorable. I love her in a ponytail. She always looks so happy and carefree when she hasn’t put much time into her looks. When we’re forced to dress up for some formal event or dinner, she always tends to freak out and worry about herself all night. Telling her how beautiful she is doesn’t ever help.
But on days like today, where all we have to do is drive to San Antonio and check into our hotel, she doesn’t stress too much.
There’s a heat race tonight, which isn’t that big of a deal. It’s basically a qualifier race to determine who makes it into the official race tomorrow. They only allow twenty five racers and about seventy five show up to qualify. That starts at six this evening, so we’ve got all day.
My mom is downstairs with the baby and she offers us coffee, but we decline because the bagel place has amazing coffee. I kiss my little sister Brooke goodbye and she touches my face with a drool-covered little hand.
“Thanks,” I say, rubbing my cheek on my sleeve.
“It means she loves you,” Mom says.
“Uh huh. Sure.”