by Amy Sparling
It’s so much easier only caring about yourself.
I pull my phone from my pocket and change the song. Today is officially the day I need to get on with my life and stop thinking about Avery. My flight home is in a few hours, and I’ll finally be done with this stupid training camp crap that Marcus cooked up to make Team Loco look good. I’ll have the next week alone, just me and my surfboard and my small studio apartment on the coast of California.
Then, next Friday is Jett’s big Christmas party. I’ve gone every year since I met Jett, and it’s something of a tradition now. His dad, Jace Adams, is a former professional motocross racer who gave it all up to raise his son. They own one of the most badass tracks in the country, a dirt bike facility called The Track in Lawson, Texas. There’s three full-size motocross tracks out there, two supercross tracks, and several smaller ones for the little kids. They hold lessons and parties and all kinds of stuff.
Their Christmas parties are amazing. There’s tons of food that’s catered in and an amazing array of desserts that are all cute and Christmas-themed. Keanna and Jett’s mom always make the desserts every year from recipes they find online. It’s a blast hanging out at their place. I spent three days over there last Christmas season. The Adams have a way of making you feel like family, which is something I’ve never felt anywhere else.
But this year Avery will be there. Now that she’s a part of the team, Keanna and the rest of them have embraced her, so of course they’ll invite her to the party. It’s not a Team Loco sponsored event, but she’ll be going as a friend. Maybe I should just stay home this year and join up with the team in January when the new racing season starts.
Before long, I’ve jogged straight to the stadium that we held the training camp in yesterday. There’s still Team Loco information on the billboard outside of it. An arenacross race is happening this weekend and some of the arenacross people are here, getting ready for it.
I stop near a bench and catch my breath. I’ve been running for half an hour straight I’m covered in sweat, despite the chilly temperature.
“Clay Summers,” a voice says from beside me.
I pull out one earbud and turn around, internally groaning because I have no desire to sign autographs at six in the morning. But the man walking up to me is probably not a fan wanting an autograph. It’s more like the other way around, and if I were thirteen years old again I’d be asking for his autograph.
It’s Dylan Baker. The Dylan Baker, three-time motocross champion and six-time supercross champion from way back in the day. Man, this guy is my idol. He retired around the time Jett’s dad became famous, but he still shows up at races and does a lot of sponsorships with his own company he started that sells motocross gear. His son, Tony Baker, races professionally too.
“Mr. Baker,” I say, pulling out the other earbud and shoving them in my pocket. “It’s good to see you.”
I’ve met him a few times, but it’s not like we’re friends or anything. He smiles and shakes my hand. “I thought I recognized you. What are you doing out here so early?”
“I head back home in a few hours. Just thought I’d go for a run to combat the boredom.”
“I feel you,” he says with a nod. “I’m here for the arenacross races. They asked me to be an announcer.”
We chat a little bit, and I’ll admit, I’m a little starstruck. Dylan had the perfect motocross career. He never missed a race. He never got injured. Even now, when he’s nearing fifty years old and has been retired for a while, he’s still a big part of the motocross scene. Most old guys retire and are never seen again, but he found a way to keep motocross in his life forever. That’s exactly what I want to do.
“Hey, man,” I say wiping sweat off my brow. “I don’t mean to sound like some lunatic fan, you but are seriously my idol. You have a flawless racing record, and ever since I was a kid I’ve been determined to follow your footsteps.” I grin. “I haven’t missed a race, ever.”
Dylan smiles back, but there’s a pained look in his eyes. “Well son, I’ll tell you something. Motocross isn’t everything.”
I lift an eyebrow. “Surely it is. I mean, it’s everything that’s worth a damn. I spend every second of my life putting motocross first. Just like you. Seriously, man you’re my idol. Tony is so lucky to have a dad like you.” I know I’m laying it on thick and I’m a little embarrassed, but I can’t help myself. It’s Dylan freaking Baker.
He sighs and stares out at the stadium in front of us. The edges of a sunrise are peeking up over the large domed roof. “Let me give you some advice. You got a girlfriend?”
I shake my head, even as thoughts of Avery prickle at my heart. “No time for one.”
He looks disappointed in my answer. “I figured as much.”
“What’s that have to do with anything?”
Dylan focuses on the horizon. He takes a minute, like he’s trying to work out what he wants to say. Fear shoots up my spine. Does he think I don’t have what it takes to be a racer like him?
“Listen, Clay. You need a girlfriend. You need something else besides motocross, because when you get old like me, you’ll realize there really is more to life than the sport we love. I lost my wife, and my son to this sport.”
“Tony?” I ask, taken aback. Tony is a professional racer too—how could he have lost someone who followed in his footsteps?
Dylan nods. “I put motocross first. I got married because she was cute and she liked me, and then I left her at home for months at a time while I traveled the country. We had a kid that worshipped me until he got old enough to realize I didn’t care about him, or her. I mean, I wanted to—I love them—but I let motocross control my entire life.”
He drags a hand down his face and shakes his head slowly. “If I could do it all over again, I’d have taken time off. I’d have been there for her so she would have stayed. But she didn’t—she left me. Tony hates me. I think he only races motocross to spite me. He hasn’t talked to me in years. And my wife…” He takes a deep breath and looks over at me. “She didn’t want the house. She didn’t want half of my money or anything. She just wanted a man who would love her, and she found one. It wasn’t me.”
“I’m sorry,” I say. “But maybe your mistake was getting married in the first place. I’m single. I always will be.”
Dylan shakes his head. “Nah, man. You need to lose that way of thinking. There’s so much more to life than the sport. Motocross might not always be there for you. You need something more than that. I saw your interview the other day and you said you’ve been on your own since you were a teenager—Man, you need to change that.”
I swallow and stand a little straighter. My heart is pounding, but it’s not from the run. Here I am standing next to my idol and he’s telling me that my entire life’s plan is wrong. “Thanks for the advice,” I say. “I’m sorry about your family.”
“Thank you.” He nods. “Find a girl. Don’t waste your life on motocross. It’s not worth being the champion if there’s no one to go home to after the race.”
“I will,” I say, knowing I’m making him a promise. I don’t think I could lie to my idol. “Thanks.”
There’s a knot in my chest as I jog back toward the hotel. I can’t stop thinking about Dylan’s advice, can’t stop seeing the pain etched in his features. I knew he had a son, but I’ve never heard about his marriage falling apart. Now that I think about it, none of his interviews ever talked about a wife. I guess he really did screw it up by caring too much about the sport.
It’s not worth being the champion if there’s no one to go home to after the race.
Could Avery be the girl I go home to? Could it really work out?
I run a little faster as the hotel comes into view. There’s only one way to find out.
Back in the lobby, I ask for her hotel room number. The jerk behind the front desk tells me he can’t give out private information like that. Whatever. I call Keanna and the phone just rings forever. It’s probably because it�
��s so damn early in the morning and she’s not awake yet. I try again twenty minutes later after I’ve showered and packed up my stuff. My flight is in three hours, and then it’ll be too late to see her.
Keanna finally answers.
“What’s Avery’s room number?” I ask instead of saying hello.
“Well, she’s already left so,” Keanna says, sounding confused.
“Wait, what?”
“Her flight was really early.”
I feel sick. “She’s at the airport? When did she leave?”
“Um, I dunno. Like, half an hour ago? She texted me goodbye. What’s wrong, Clay?”
I sigh into the phone as I grab my suitcase and skim the room to make sure I haven’t forgotten anything. “Nothing. Thanks. I’ll see you later.”
I hang up the phone and race out of the hotel. I flag the first taxi I see and tell him to get me to the airport as fast as possible. Somewhere, buried in all the emails I get from Team Loco, is everyone’s itinerary. We pull up at the airport right when I find the email I need.
Keanna’s flight leaves at 7:10. It’s seven on the dot right now.
I run through the airport, getting held up in the security line. I bounce on my toes wishing they would go faster. But my heart takes a while to listen to what my brain already knows. It’s too late. She’s gone.
She’s heading to Texas and I didn’t get to tell her how I feel.
I don’t have her phone number. I don’t have her social media information. But it’s not like any of that matters. You can’t tell someone you think you’re falling in love with them over social media or text. This is the kind of thing that should be done in person.
I step through the line when it’s finally my turn, and then I walk to my terminal and wait for my own flight home. If my life were a movie, I would have caught her just in time. She would have wrapped her arms around me and told me she felt the same way, too.
But my life isn’t a movie. I didn’t get the girl. And as every minute passes that puts more and more space between us, I start to wonder if maybe this was an act of fate. Maybe I wasn’t supposed to catch her on time. Maybe she deserves someone better than me.
Chapter 20
Green Leaf, Texas feels a lot smaller when I get back home. There are no flashing lights or tall buildings here, just the small grocery store and my old high school that looks drab on the side of Main Street. It’s comforting being back home, though. I loved traveling as much as I thought I would, but now my heart needs to rest. It wasn’t the traveling that made me weary, no, that was all thanks to a certain guy.
My parents are excited to have me back. You’d think I was gone for years with the way they act. Mom cleaned the entire house and put out even more Christmas decorations to welcome me home. Dad makes coffee and sets out a crumb cake, telling me to sit down and tell them all about it. I do, mostly. I leave out all the stuff about Clay but I tell them about the job and how much fun it is hopping from one airport to another.
Mom gets this sad look on her face when she has to break the news to me. The car that we both share has broken down—transmission problems—and we don’t know when we’ll get it fixed. I tell her it’s not a big deal, but it does suck. That means I’m now stuck home with no transportation for the holidays.
Marcus sends me an email the next morning with plans for the supercross season that starts in January. He says everyone agreed that I did a wonderful job and they all want me back. Apparently my internship lasts on a season-by-season basis until I get hired on full time. There’s a form attached to his email. I have to sign it and send it back if I want to stay on as an intern in January. A few days ago, that had been my biggest wish. Now, I’m not so sure.
Team Loco is amazing, and this internship could lead to a real job in the future that would give me the life I dream of. But it also means I’ll spend more time around Clay. I don’t know if I can sign on for next season where I’ll see him every single week and know that we can never be together. I don’t know if my fragile heart can handle that kind of pain.
There are so many times I feel like texting Keanna and asking for her advice or words of wisdom, but I’m afraid I’ll sound annoying. She already told me her best advice. If Clay doesn’t want a girlfriend, I need to respect that and stay away.
The next morning, Mandy finally comes home from college. I’m desperate to see my old friend again and to tell her all about everything that happened. Last time I talked to her, she only got a little bit of the details. When she comes over, I barely recognize her. Her hair has been dyed maroon and she now sports a little star tattoo on her wrist. She said she and her three friends in college all got the same tattoo before they went home for the holidays.
It shouldn’t be a big deal, but it hurts me anyway. Mandy is supposed to be my best friend. We never got matching tattoos together. We’ve never even talked about something like that. I keep waiting for an opportunity to tell her about Clay, but she never shuts up. From the moment she comes over she’s going on and on about how much she loves college, and the hot TA’s and the hot college guys. She talks about parties and late night diners and how great it is to be free from her parents’ supervision.
She feels like a completely different person now. And maybe I’ve become a different person since I graduated high school, too. But now the people that we are don’t seem like they’d make good friends anymore.
Mandy doesn’t seem to notice. “So a bunch of people are going out to Shay Hawk’s house for a bonfire tonight,” Mandy says after we eat dinner with my parents. “You wanna go?”
I shrug. “Sure.”
The bonfire parties at Shay’s house were a staple of our high school life. She lives out on a farm with tons of land and it makes for a great hang out spot. Mandy and I ride over there in her car and soon, things feel like normal again. But normal isn’t fun to me. Normal makes me long for something better. I’m hanging out at the bonfire around all the people I went to high school with. Some of them are still dating the same people and others have moved on. All the guys are the same as always—boring and not my type.
I’m bundled up in my jacket, hovering my hands over the flames to warm them up when Mandy comes up, a red plastic cup in her hand. “You okay? You look bummed.”
I shrug. “I am bummed.”
“Why’s that?” she says.
I finally have a minute to tell my best friend all about my problems, and now that it’s here, and she’s looking at me and she’s ready to listen, I just don’t feel like it. Mandy and I are too different now. I’d rather talk to Keanna, or Bree, or Jenn. Those girls feel more like my friends now.
I turn to Mandy and give her a fake smile. “I’m bummed because my drink is empty.”
She rolls her eyes. “We can fix that.”
Another day goes by and I’m still not sure what I should do with Team Loco. I want to go back more than anything, but I’m not sure I can handle the whole Clay thing. I try really hard to make myself hate him, but I know that won’t happen. Maybe I just need some sense knocked into me.
I text Keanna on Wednesday night. Instead of replying, she calls me.
“Girl!” she says all excitedly on the phone. “I miss you! You’re coming to the Christmas party, right? I can’t wait.”
“Yeah, I guess so,” I say. I haven’t gotten any emails from Team Loco about the party itinerary yet, but I’m sure it’ll come soon. “Hey, do you have a minute?”
“Always,” she says. “What’s up?”
“I’m trying to decide if I should go back to the internship in January.”
“Um, hell yes you should! Why is that even a question?”
I feel my cheeks warm. “You know why… Clay.”
“Has something else happened?”
“No, and that’s even worse. We haven’t talked at all since that stupid kiss and now it’s got me all crazy like I worry I won’t be able to handle being around him. And even still, part of me wonders if maybe he likes me too.�
��
“You should talk to him,” Keanna says.
I sigh. “Maybe at the party.”
“Just call him now.”
“I don’t have his number,” I say.
“I’ll text it to you,” she says. My heart speeds up at the idea of having Clay’s number. As if reading my mind, Keanna says, “Just call him. Trust me. You can’t let this ruin your internship… just call him and find out what’s up.”
I tell her I will, but hours after the fact, I’m still sitting here on my bed looking at Clay’s phone number on my phone screen. I’m too scared to call him. Would he even answer? What would I even say?
Finally, I decide to be strong.
Okay, maybe not strong enough to call him, but strong enough to text.
I take a deep breath and type out a message.
And then I hit send.
Chapter 21
This apartment feels ten times smaller than usual. It’s only four hundred square feet, with a loft upstairs that I sleep in and a teensy kitchen that I never cook in, and it’s never felt as small as it feels now. I usually love this place. It’s just big enough for me, and me only. Right now it feels like a closet.
I even feel too small. Like a part of me is missing. It’s been three days now since the training camp project ended and we got to go home. Jett’s Christmas party is on Saturday, and I’ll fly out at noon, then probably spend the whole weekend over there riding at his track. I was looking forward to it, but now even that feels like a disappointment. If I can’t figure out a way to make it work with Avery, I won’t want to be around my team anymore.
All week I’ve thought it over. I wake up late, go surfing all day, and think about her. I don’t know how to do this. I don’t know what to do, or even if I should do anything. Now I fully understand what people mean when they talk about their head and their heart as if it’s two separate things. It totally is.