by Amy Sparling
I take a bite of shrimp and peer at her for a long moment. “I don’t see it. You’re not really the actress type . . . I see you as more of the person who designs the movie sets.”
“Is that supposed to be a compliment?” she asks, but she doesn’t seem offended or anything.
I nod. “You’re artistic. You did a great job on the party decorations and I think you’d bring a movie to life, ya know?”
“That’s really sweet,” she says, grabbing my hand from across the table.
For the first time since the races, I’m starting to feel like maybe things are okay again. Looks like my romance paid off.
After lunch, we walk out onto the restaurant’s patio. It’s a vast deck on a marina, so we can walk for a long ways and look at the water and the boats passing by. In the center of the deck is a circular viewing area. Signs identify the several types of fish in the viewing area, and there’s even a vending machine to get a cup of fish food to feed them.
Keanna’s eyes light up. “Do we have any quarters?” she says, digging through her purse. She comes up with one quarter but there’s a money changing machine next to the food so I use two dollar bills from my wallet to get more.
We have a blast dropping pellets of fish food down to the fish, and soon there’s dozens of them all floating around the water, begging for the next piece of food.
Keanna tosses a piece toward an empty section of water and we watch a fish swim toward it, only to have another catfish beat him to it.
“Rude!” Keanna says, tossing more pieces down the fish who got left out.
A little kid walks up with his grandmother, who tells him she doesn’t have any quarters. Keanna gives him some of ours and it melts my heart to watch the kid’s face light up excitedly. I love that she’s kind and generous and not some stuck up motocross groupie like many girls I’ve known before.
Keanna excuses herself to go to the restroom back inside the restaurant and I stay, feeding the fish with the little boy.
My phone keeps buzzing like crazy, so once my cup is out of food, I decide to check the messages. But I barely type in my lock code when someone approaches me. It’s a girl around my age, pretty but with something sly behind her eyes. I instantly know she’s the kind of girl who can’t be trusted, and even if I were single, I’d know to stay away from this one.
“Hi there,” she says, dropping a quarter into the machine and letting it fill up her plastic cup. “Are the fish hungry today?”
“Yeah, they’re gluttons,” I say, turning back around and smiling at the little boy who is still feeding the fish.
“I can’t believe I ran into someone famous while at the marina,” she says, not looking at me as she strides up to where I’m standing near the fish viewing area. Ugh.
Of course.
Why can’t I ever be approached by normal people? People who don’t know who I am.
“I’m not famous,” I say, using the same old line I’ve said many times before.
She snorts. “don’t worry, I’m not some crazy stalker fangirl or anything.”
Yeah, right, like I trust you. Instead, I say, “Good. I’ve had enough of those in my lifetime.”
She turns to me and gives me what can only be described as a sultry, come-hook-up-with-me smile.
“Nice meeting you,” I say, pushing off from the railing. “I need to get back to my girlfriend.”
“You already have a new girlfriend?” she says, her voice higher than before. “Damn, that was fast. Like, super-fast.”
I stop. I should probably keep leaving but dammit, now I’m curious. “We’ve been dating a while,” I say. “What do you mean by fast?”
She peers at me like she’s trying to tell if I’m lying. “The internet says you’re single now.”
“When did it say that?” I shouldn’t care, but I ask anyway.
She lifts a shoulder and tosses more food to the fish. “Today.”
So that’s what all those phone alerts were about. I put on a casual smile. “You can’t believe everything you read online, unfortunately. My girlfriend and I are still very much together.”
“Weird,” she says. She flips her hair over her shoulders. “Well, good thing I’m not one of your stalker fangirls or I might be disappointed.”
I nod once and head back toward the restaurant. I see Keanna walking toward me, weaving her way through the dozens of outdoor tables. She gives me a cute little wave and I wave back, walking quicker to meet her sooner.
“What’s that look about?” Keanna says, eyeing me suspiciously when we’re finally back together, my hand in hers.
“Oh, nothing,” I say, letting out a long sigh.
As we head back to the truck, I remember a speech my dad gave me a while back. It was before I’d met Keanna but when I was still fast enough and winning enough races to get noticed on a more popular level. He’d told me that dating and motocross don’t mix well. That fame changes a person, makes them more powerful because they can date nearly anyone they want. He said girls can’t handle the jealousy and competition and guys let it get to their head too easily. I’d been warned that dating and fame are hard to manage, and yet I’d thrown away all those warnings when I met Keanna.
Dad’s advice doesn’t hold true to some aspects of dating and fame—I don’t care to play the field anymore. I only want Keanna and she only wants me. But he was right about one thing. It’s not easy. I don’t like having the public analyze my personal life outside of the races. I don’t like getting hit on by girls of all ages, some of whom could be my mother, or grandmother, for that matter.
Dad didn’t go back to professional motocross after falling for my mom. Although being a racer has been my dream for as long as I can remember, maybe it’s not worth it in the long run. Dreams can change, after all. For now, I guess I’ll see what happens.
Chapter 19
Since it’s a slow week at work, I get permission to come in at noon instead of at eight in the morning. Jett has been doing all of his homeschool work in the mornings, so this is the perfect time to work on my present for him.
With only a few hours of headache trying to make our home printer work, I managed to take my favorite photo of Jett, blow it up into nine pieces of paper, and print it out on canvas transfer papers I found at the craft store.
Then, I got a stretched canvas from the art section that’s the exact size of my blown up image. Using internet tutorial videos, I place all nine sheets of transfer paper onto the canvas and then scrape it with a spatula until the image transfers over.
I hold my breath as I peel off the papers, hoping that the canvas image looks as good as it is in my head.
It comes out perfectly. I’m grinning so much as I look over the canvas. Now, my photo of Jett, muscular and shirtless, standing next to his dirt bike, is a work of art.
I stand back and admire my work. But it’s not done yet.
My plan is to decorate it with a painted on quote and then seal it up with some of Becca’s clear sealant. That way it’ll be waterproof and last forever.
At first I think I’m imagining Jett’s voice but then I hear it again. He calls my name.
He’s in the house!
“Keanna? Are you upstairs?”
Shit. I rush to move the canvas to the corner of the room and then I take a sheet and toss it over.
“I’ll be right down!” I call out, nearly tripping over Becca’s art supplies as I scramble to the doorway. I pull it open just as Jett starts up the stairs to the studio.
“Hey,” I say, taking a deep breath and trying to look normal. If he gets suspicious of what I’m doing up here he might figure out that I’m planning something for him.
“Done with your school work already?” I say, putting a hand on my hip. If I change the subject, then maybe he won’t ask what I was doing.
“Nope.” Even from his position at the bottom of the stairs, he looks tall and handsome as hell. “I skipped out on the last assignment because I wanted to see you.�
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I hold onto the handrail and step down until I’m two steps higher than he is. “That’s very bad of you, Jett Adams. I might have to punish you.”
He grins. “I think I need a paddling.”
He holds out his arms and I jump into them, holding on when he grabs me and heads back to my room. Since my parents aren’t here, I don’t hold back the squeals when he drops me to the bed and tickles me.
“Stop!” I gasp, squirming to get out of his wiggling fingers. He dives onto the bed next to me and I seize my opportunity to tickle him right on the side of his ribs.
“Hey now! Not fair!” Jett says, rolling out of the way. “I can only tickle you. You can’t tickle me.”
I roll over onto my stomach and prop myself up on my elbows. “What kind of double standard is that?”
He fluffs the pillow next to mine and lays down. “It’s a double standard that works in my favor.”
I roll my eyes. “Dork.”
It’s past noon and Jett’s still in his flannel Homer Simpson pajama pants and a black undershirt. I guess he really did come over because he wanted to see me.
“I have to go to work soon,” I say, frowning.
“I know. That’s why I wanted a few minutes with you.” He tucks his hands behind his head and stares at the ceiling. “Plus, we need to talk.”
Those formidable words are usually a sign of bad news but the way he says them makes me more curious than worried. “What’s up?”
“There’s some dumbass rumor online that Jett Adams is a single man again.”
He looks over at me, searching my eyes for something.
I shrug. “So?”
“It’s no big deal because obviously we’re fine, but it’s annoying.”
“Are you going to say anything or just let it go?” I ask.
He looks over and leans up on his elbow. “I have an idea, but you’d have to go along with it.”
“Oooh, enticing.” I wiggle my eyebrows. “What is it?”
He sits up and gnaws on his bottom lip. “Okay, it’s kind of stupid. Like—way stupid. This isn’t my usual personality at all.”
I narrow my eyes at him. “Does it involve social media?”
“Yep.”
I sit up, eager to hear about his so-not-like-him plan. “You want me to type up a message that tells everyone you’re happily dating me and post it to your account?”
He shakes his head, and takes out his cell phone. “I have a better idea. Let’s take some selfies.”
I make this exaggerated gasp and cover my mouth with my fingers. “Selfies? You? Wow, I am shocked.”
He laughs and shakes his head. “I know. I’m not a selfie person. But I was thinking, instead of addressing the stupid rumors by telling everyone I’m not single, what if I post a picture of us in bed and send it to Instagram with a caption that says I’m sleeping in with my girl or something? That way it’s like a subtle fuck you to the people starting rumors.”
I grin. I really like his ideas when they involve me. “That’s a perfect plan.” I take his phone and open the camera. “But take off your shirt.”
He lifts an eyebrow and I wave my hand for him to get on with it. “Take it off. It’ll look more convincing.” Then I run my tongue across my lip. “Plus I just want to see how freaking sexy you are before I go to work.”
“Can’t say no to that,” Jett says, lifting up and pulling off his undershirt. He tosses it to the floor and then lays down in bed, beckoning me into his shoulder. I lean against him and then spend way too much time fixing my hair and trying to look extra cute for a picture that’s supposedly taken just when we woke up.
He holds out the camera, we give sexy but sleepy smiles, and he snaps the photo. I enjoy the smell of his cologne as I snuggle against him, watching him upload the photo to Instagram.
He types I love lazy days with my girl and puts a heart emoji next to it. I try not to be a vain person, but seeing the picture of us on his Instagram account that has fifty thousand followers kind of makes my whole day.
“You’re the coolest girlfriend ever,” Jett says after he puts his phone on my nightstand. “I tell you the internet is saying we broke up and you don’t even care.”
I shrug and run my fingers down his bare chest. I would kill to have half the tanned and toned body he has. “Who cares about rumors? It’s not like we know any of those people.”
“True,” he says, kissing my forehead. “So . . . this is a sexy outfit you’re wearing.”
I look down. I chose a pair of leggings that are a little too tight and a spaghetti strap pink tank top that I’m not too fond of, that way if any paint or glaze got on it, it wouldn’t be a huge loss. Jett slips his finger under the strap and pushes it down my shoulder. He leans over me and kisses the skin where his fingers touched. I close my eyes and revel in his gentle embrace, the soft touch of his lips on my collarbone.
Warm hands slide down to my hips and then his fingers slip under my tank top.
The fabric rises until my breasts are exposed and Jett hovers over me, kissing me while his chest presses against mine. I moan from the intensity of his kiss and then lean back, letting him pull off my shirt. He tosses it right on top of his on the floor and then our tongues caress each other while his hands roam down my body.
I grab his back and pull him into me, feeling his excitement press into my stomach.
When he reaches for my leggings, I beat him to it. I can’t help myself, he’s so hot and I want him so badly. I slip the leggings down to my angles and then kick them off, leaving everything exposed except for what’s under my panties.
Jett’s eyes fill with desire, and he grabs my hips, crushing me against him while we make out. I tangle my hands up in his hair, breathing hard against his neck.
He is so sexy and I want him so bad.
Chapter 20
The way she moves beneath me, her fingernails digging into my back—it’s all too much to experience and still walk away. I let my fingers explore her body, but focus on kissing, wondering if just making out will be enough.
“Jett,” she whispers, gasping for air. Her hands dig into my hair. “It’s time.”
“Are you sure?” I ask, pulling back to look into her eyes.
She pulls at my pajama pants. “Yes, I’m sure.”
I stand up and although I don’t want to leave her, I rush over and lock her bedroom door. Her parents won’t be home anytime soon but I am not about to get caught in bed with their daughter. That would be embarrassing and fifty kinds of traumatizing.
When I walk back to her bed, she gives me a sultry gaze and wiggles out of her panties. I take in a deep breath and drop my pants to the floor.
“Are you sure?” I ask, not getting back in bed until I know this is okay.
She nods eagerly and waves for me to join her. “Stop stalling,” she whines. “You’re just being mean now.”
“Never,” I say, crawling into bed with her. We slip under her sheets and I tug them up around us, knowing it’ll help ease the awkwardness if everything isn’t on display.
Besides, I have the rest of my life to admire her perfect body. Right now it’s all about us.
I pull her face toward mine, and kiss her with everything that I have. Her back arches toward me and I stop, suddenly remembering something very important.
“You said you were on the pill, right?”
“Yep,” she says, lifting her head and kissing my shoulder, then my neck. “Take it at the same time every day. You’ve seen me.”
I nod. That’s true. I take a deep breath and relax into her embrace, allowing myself to love her in the way I’ve been wanting to since the day I met her.
Her green apple shampoo smells like heaven when I bury my face into her neck. I let myself enjoy every touch, every sharp gasp of breath, the cute little way she shudders underneath me.
Despite my best efforts, it doesn’t last very long, but she doesn’t seem disappointed. After, we cuddle in her bed, her fingers tr
acing soft circles on my chest.
“That was better than I imagined,” she breathes, her breath tickling my shoulder.
I run a hand through her hair. “And exactly how many times have you imagined that?”
She giggles into my neck and shakes her head. “So not telling you.”
I take a deep breath and let it out slowly, reveling in the feel of her in my arms, the way the sun shines through the windows on this perfect winter day.
“I like this,” I whisper, kissing the top of her head.
“You know what I like the most?” she says, looking up at me. “It just happened.”
I lift an eyebrow. “That’s what you liked the most?”
“Yeah, it was just us. Just a thing. After all these months of me stressing about it like some kind of crazy person, we finally did it.” She draws in a deep breath and lets it out slowly. “All of that talk for waiting for the perfect time . . . and it turns out this was the perfect time.”
She smiles up at me and I lean down and kiss her forehead. “It was perfect.”
“And now that it’s over, we can start doing it all the time,” she says playfully.
“Oh yeah?” I run my finger up her side, feeling goosebumps lift on her skin. “That sounds like a great way to never get any more school work or riding done.”
She frowns in this silly way. “I guess we’ll just have to stay in this bed forever.”
I close my eyes and wrap my arms tightly around her. “Sounds like a plan to me.”
We rest in each other’s arms for a while and just when I’m about to doze off, I hear her sigh.
“Seriously, Jett. How did I live so long without experiencing that?”
“It was that good, huh?”
She shrugs. “There’s something special about being with someone you love. I guess I never realized how special it really is.”
I sit up and pull on my clothes, handing hers back to her. It’s been an hour or so and we don’t want to risk any awkward family encounters.
“It was also awesome in other ways,” I say, sitting back on her bed.
She tugs her shirt back over her head. “How so?”