The Trail Rules

by Melanie Hooyenga

  Want to hang out after practice later this week? Tell your parents we’re studying for a test.

  Never mind that we don’t have any classes together. I’ll try.

  Next is my sister.

  Sisterly check up to see how you’re doing.

  While my parents got minimal detail about the breakup, I shared the real reasons with Maddy and now she’s all gung-ho about me becoming a strong, independent woman. Okay. Made it through not going to Hcoming. Thanks.

  And finally the unknown number. Half the school has my number from my Snow Bunny days so it’s weird to not know who’s texting. I tap the message and my pulse quickens.

  Hey, it’s your namelganger (doppelganger… name… sorry lol). Alex gave me your number. Impromptu ride today… if you’re free.

  I reread the message half a dozen times, picking apart every detail. One, he’s funny, but in a geeky way, which is amazing. Two, he’s not afraid of punctuation. Also geeky, also adorable. Three, did he just ask me out? Or is it a group thing, in which case, why didn’t Alex just text me? I hold my finger over the message to copy it, then switch to Cally. I type Is he asking me out??, then hit paste and send. I switch back to Mica’s message and reply I’m free. Short and sweet. If it’s a group thing, I haven’t embarrassed myself by saying more, and if it is a date—holy crap I might have a date with Mica.

  Hannah bumps her tray against mine and I look up. She nods at my phone, which I’m clutching in my hand. “I’m gonna need to know what’s going on.”

  A girlish giggle slips out and Emilia and Willow lean closer.

  “Oh, this is better than I thought,” Hannah says.

  I set my phone facedown on the table and rest my chin on my fist, unable to stop the shit-eating grin that’s plastered to my face. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  Hannah holds out her hand for my phone.

  My defenses prickle for a second, but I push it away. These girls aren’t the Snow Bunnies. They want to know what’s going on because we’re friends—at least I think we are—and friends share these types of things. They aren’t secretly plotting my demise. I unlock my phone and slide it to Hannah with Mica’s message showing.

  The three of them huddle together to read.

  “What’s a namelganger?” Emilia asks, her brows furrowed.

  “He made it up,” Hannah says, smiling at me. “Creativity. I like it.”

  “Who is he?” Willow asks. “Is it Mike Barrett or Washington? Ooh, or is it the new Russian exchange student?”

  “His name’s Mikhail.” Hannah twists her thick hair over her shoulder. “Are we close?”

  I shake my head. Part of me doesn’t want to tell them. It’s nice having a secret boy who no one else knows, plus I don’t want it to get back to Evan. “He doesn’t go here.”

  “Ooh, a mystery man!” Willow’s eyes get even wider. “Where’d you meet him?”

  I slide my phone away from them and turn off the screen. “We met a couple weeks ago but— I don’t want to get into it.”

  “Is that why you broke up with Evan?” Willow won’t let it go. Excitement dances in her eyes and I worry it’s already too late to contain this.

  “No. They have nothing to do with each other.” Okay, small lie, but only like two percent is because of Mica. Five tops. “I really don’t want this to get back to Evan. Could you please not say anything for now?”

  Hannah reaches for Willow’s mouth and pretends to lock her lips closed. “We promise.”

  “Plus, I don’t even know if he’s asking me out.”

  Hannah’s eyebrow quirks. “He’s asking you out.”

  “His friends might be there.”

  “He doesn’t say anything about friends.”

  I cover my face with my hands to hide the flush that’s spreading across my cheeks.

  A date with Mica?

  How did this happen so fast?

  Alex.

  She must know more than she’s told me. I unlock my phone to read his message again, then save him to my contacts. I have no idea what his schedule is like or how strict his school is about phones, so I may not hear from him until the end of the day, but I want to know when he texts back.

  Chapter 20

  Butterflies slam around my belly in time with the song playing on the radio. In five minutes I’ll find out if this is a date. When Mica replied Awesome! See you at 3! I got nervous and just sent a smiley emoji. Besides, asking if there will be other people implies I think he might be asking me out—which if he isn’t, is mortifying—or that I don’t want to spend time with just him—which also isn’t true, even if this does feel really fast. So I opted to not ask and be surprised in approximately three minutes.

  I pull into the parking lot at Crestpoint and let out a breath. This isn’t a big deal. If he’s with friends, we’ll have an awesome time riding. His friends are fun and at the very least I’m guaranteed an amusing afternoon. And if he’s alone… well, I don’t really know what to expect.

  The clock on the dashboard changes to three o’clock and I hit the button to open the back of the Bronco. This is the first time I’ve driven myself to the trails and for as much as it irritated me that Evan always handled my bike, it never occurred to me until this afternoon that I don’t have a bike rack. I had to put the seats down and shove my bike in the back like a total newbie. But despite that, pride swells through me because I’m finally doing this on my own, not just because my boyfriend—excuse me, ex-boyfriend—wants to. And it’s totally not because Mica will be here.

  I get out and lift the tailgate as a beat-up Jeep Cherokee pulls in next to me, a bike strapped to the back.

  One bike.

  Mica gets out of the driver side and smiles. “You been here long?”

  I shake my head, trying to ignore the sudden uptick in my heartrate. “Just got here.” I peer through his car to confirm he’s alone, hoping I’m not being obvious, then turn my attention to my bike. I grab the frame and the front tire and pull, but nothing happens. I lift it and pull again, but it doesn’t budge. Mica works quickly next to me, unstrapping his bike and lifting it off the rack, while I’m still staring at mine like it’s grown a new head. When I shoved it in, I wasn’t paying attention to the seatbelts in the backseat. One is caught on a pedal and the other snagged the chain.

  “Great,” I mumble under my breath. I open the back door and unhook the seatbelt from the pedal, but before I can get to the other side, Mica is there.

  “I know you can probably get this yourself,” he says without looking at me. “But I felt stupid watching you and not helping.”

  “Thanks.” I move to the back of the Bronco. He untwists the seatbelt, freeing the chain, then gives my bike a shove so I can grab it. I set it on the ground and squat to inspect the chain, hoping I look convincing. I know the chain is what makes the wheels turn, but I couldn’t tell you which round metal thing it’s supposed to be resting on.

  “Some oil got on the seatbelt.” His voice is close behind me and I jump at his proximity. His hand rests on my shoulder to keep me from falling backwards. “Sorry!” He nods at my bike. “Everything okay?”

  “Sure?” It comes out a question and I immediately feel like a helpless child.

  He looks over my shoulder and gives a grunt of approval. “Looks good to me.” He stands and moves to his bike. “You got everything you need?”

  My biker-girl tools are already loaded in my pockets and a full water bottle is in the holder on the bike frame. “Yep.” I hit the lock on my key remote and tuck it into another pocket, then put my helmet on.

  Mica watches me for a beat, his eyes on mine, before snapping his helmet in place and throwing a leg over his bike. “How are you feeling after last week?”

  For a minute I think he means Evan, then I remember my crash. I rub my shoulder. “Almost as good as new.”

  “I’m glad.” He smiles, and my heart gallops. “Ready?”

  The trail starts flat and he picks up spe
ed. I pedal hard to keep pace, but my hands are already sweating. As much as I appreciate his confidence in my abilities, going too fast makes me shake like a five-pound Chihuahua. I steal glances at the back of his legs—and the back of other things—but I need to concentrate on the ground if I want to stay vertical.

  The turn to the trail I normally take is quickly approaching, but instead of veering left, Mica slows. I stop next to him. “What’s up?”

  He flexes his fingers on the handlebars. “How do you feel about a blue?”

  Nervous energy spikes through me and I force a laugh to cover it. “It’s my favorite color, why?”

  He dips his head as he laughs, sending my heart racing even more. I’m going to have a heart attack at this rate. His eyes crinkle and he looks almost boyish despite the scruff on his jaw. He points at the small trail marker I hadn’t noticed before. There’s a green square with an arrow pointing left, a blue circle with an arrow pointing right, and at the bottom, a black diamond.

  “Do you know why they mark them like ski trails?” I ask.

  “I think it started ‘cause people bike ski runs in the summer. When they started making trails specifically for bikes, it made sense to use the same system.”

  “So do you ski?” I ask.

  “Board. You?”

  “Two sticks for me.”

  “You ever try boarding?”

  “In middle school, right when I moved here. But the girls I became friends with skied and it was easier to switch to skis.” There’s so much left unsaid in that statement he’d have to be an idiot not to notice it.

  He studies me, like he wants to ask more but isn’t sure if he should.

  I clear my throat. “How much harder is the blue?”

  “Drops are a little steeper, turns a little sharper, but nothing so crazy you’ll break your neck.”

  I touch my leg—the one I broke last winter. “You promise?”

  His gaze follows my hand. “Alex told me about you and the avalanche.”

  They talked about me? Enough for her to tell him that story? What else did she tell him? Does he know about Evan? Is that why he texted? Or is this just a friendly thing and I’m totally reading into this wrong? I take a breath. “She did?”

  “Yeah. That’s crazy you were there. Does it hurt?”

  I smirk. “Only when I fall.”

  “You sure you’re okay?”

  “I promise.”

  He glances at the trail marker. “I want to hear all about it but—” he holds up a hand. “Not now. Right now, I’m taking you on a blue.”

  “You sure?”

  “You wanna go first and set the pace?”

  “Okay, but you have to promise me one thing.”

  He cocks his head, appraising me, and I try not to fidget. “Sure.”

  “You are not allowed to laugh if I scream.”

  He bursts out laughing and slaps a hand over his mouth. I shove his shoulder without thinking, and startle at the contact. Evan is in good shape, but Mica’s shoulders are rock solid. He wags a finger on his other hand at me. “That doesn’t count,” he says from behind his hand, and I swat him.

  “Honestly, it’s more of a shriek than a scream.” A smile tugs at my lips and I can’t help but giggle.

  He closes his eyes and shakes his head. “I promise to try.”

  I tug his hand away from his mouth and our fingers touch, ever so slightly. Electricity shoots between us and we both hesitate, hands in midair. My belly warms and I’ve got about two seconds before my face turns red. “Let’s go!” I face the trail—away from his intriguing eyes—and start pedaling.

  My breathing comes in short gasps so I focus on the rhythmic motion of my legs as I power my bike forward. We’re on a flat stretch for a couple hundred yards, but the path isn’t as groomed as on the green. Gnarly roots and chunky rocks litter the edge of the trail, in some spots only leaving enough room for the tire to squeeze through and in others completely covering the trail. I lead us around a ninety degree turn and my eyes go wide. It’s not that the incline in front of me is so steep, it’s that it cuts left and right at least a dozen times, weaving around trees. Pushing to my feet, I stand to pedal. I’m still learning to control how much I jerk from side to side, and this trail isn’t wide enough to jerk the wrong direction.

  I make it through the first three turns when my momentum falters. I downshift, but my bike’s not moving fast enough for the chain to connect and it seizes. I drop to one foot and slap my hand against the closest tree. “Dammit!”

  Mica stops alongside me. “You’re doing great! This trail starts rough—this part used to be part of the black.”

  I raise an eyebrow. “You don’t need to try to make me feel better.”

  “I wouldn’t make that up.” He points back the way we came. “You saw on the sign how the black is this way, too. The blue used to wind around but they cut a new trail for black and switched this one up.”

  My jaw drops.

  “I wasn’t sure if you’d try it if you knew it was a black.”

  “I probably wouldn’t. The last time I was talked into a black is when I broke my leg.”

  He smiles at me, and my heart thrums. “And look at you now.” His gaze drops to my legs, then back to my eyes. “It’s gonna be tough to get any momentum at this point.”

  “Good thing there’s a hiker in every biker, right?”

  His smile broadens, like he’s pleased I remembered that he said that.

  The trail’s not wide enough for us to walk side by side, but he’s close enough that his front tire bumps my rear tire. I can’t tell if he’s doing it on purpose or not, but I like knowing that he’s right there.

  “Did you sign up for the Pow Cross yet?” he asks.

  I glance at him over my shoulder. “Are you doing it?”

  “Would it make a difference?” He winks, but then quickly looks away like he’s not one hundred percent sure he should have done that.

  “Aren’t there different divisions? We wouldn’t be in the same group anyway.”

  “True, but half the fun is the craziness before it starts, then the party afterwards.”

  My smile fades. I’ve only seen Mica on the trails and the one time downtown, so I have no idea what he’s like at night. I’ve tried beer and vodka but I’m not into getting drunk or high—that was yet another issue Evan had with me hanging out with Brianna since she is into that—and while I know practically everyone parties, I’m not into that scene.

  “So people get pretty crazy?” My voice comes out higher pitched than normal.

  “Some do. The best is when it snows. Some guys strap their boards on their backs and ride up, then board down the trails.”

  “These trails?!” Tree skiing—or boarding—is a big thing but I don’t have the coordination to weave through vertical death sticks, especially not on trails this steep.

  “This one for sure. And a couple farther back.”

  I lift my bike over a mangled stump that’s the width of the trail. “I’m guessing people get pretty lit up, too?”

  “Here? Nah. Maybe at after-parties, but that’s not really my scene.” He pauses, and I catch his eye over my shoulder. His ever-present smile is gone and he’s chewing on the side of his cheek.

  I stop, forcing him to as well. “That’s not my scene either.”

  The relief on his face is clear, and I realize this is most definitely a date. “So what is your scene?”

  I snort and roll my eyes. “Lately? This and homework. Skiing when the season starts.”

  He drops his gaze and his cheeks color, and I’d love to know what he’s thinking. “I didn’t figure you for a homework right after school kind of girl.”

  I wave my hands at the trees around us. “Well, not right after school. My parents are coming down on me pretty hard to spend more time studying and less time socializing. Which is why I’ve got about an hour left here if I’m going to beat them home. And,” I take a breath, not sure if I’m ready t
o dump the Snow Bunny drama on him.

  He raises his eyebrows. “And?”

  “Let’s just say I cut myself off from my old friends last spring and I’m still working on making a new group of friends. Cally, who you met, is on the ski team so she’s busy every night after school.”

  “I thought—” he stops, and now it’s my turn to raise my eyebrows, waiting for him to continue.

  “What?”

  He runs his hand back and forth over his handlebars. “Maybe I shouldn’t ask this, but I guess I assumed Evan was your boyfriend.” His cheeks burn brighter and he flicks his thumb over the hand brake. His eyes meet mine and I hold his gaze.

  “I broke up with him.”

  The flicking stops. “Oh. I’m sorry.”

  I cock my head. “You are?” My pulse races. Are we really talking about this? An hour ago I wasn’t sure if this was a date or friend thing and suddenly we’re having a confessional in the middle of a trail.

  He smiles an adorable smile that lifts one side of his mouth, and looks at the ground. “No, not really.”

  I bump my tire against his and he looks up. “Me neither.” If there was ever a time to check on his relationship status, it’s now, but my stomach clenches at the thought. I take the easier way out. “When I first met Alex, I thought you two were dating.”

  “Me and Alex?” His eyes go wide, and I shrug. “I guess you’re not the first person to think that, but we’ve been friends for so long I sometimes forget she’s a girl.”

  I quirk an eyebrow.

  “Okay, I know she’s a girl. But she and Kurt always had this unspoken thing, then it became a real thing. I guess I never saw her that way.”

  But do you have a girlfriend now? I try to send the question telepathically but it ricochets off the trees.

  “I do have a confession.”

  My heat thuds in my chest. “What’s that?”

  “It was her idea to ask you to ride today.”

  I make a mental note to send Alex a fruit basket. “Oh yeah?”