by Cassie Mae
“Take a stab at it.”
He taps his chin. “That you will be the breadwinner—again—and you’ll either get a second job or pick up more hours at the farm, meaning you’ll have less time to dedicate to the competition. So instead of trying for a sponsorship, you’d rather get a steady paycheck and give it up. Am I getting close?”
Wow. “I knight you Mr. Intuitive.” I slash my arm across his shoulders.
His neck turns red, but his soft grin wraps his lips, and he runs a hand through his brown hair. “Permission to speak freely?”
“Always.”
“If all you’re hurting for is time, I can give that to you.” He gestures around the empty boarding park. “Obviously.”
“I couldn’t ask you to.” As sweet as it is to have the entire place to ourselves, I can’t take advantage. It would be nothing but selfish. I’d be leaving Pete with Demi without telling him, for one, and we don’t keep secrets from each other. Not to mention Tanner’s job would go bye-bye if we were caught. All for what? A sponsorship I won’t even get?
“Brink,” Tanner prods, and his gaze goes to my forehead where I know all my thoughts are showing in the form of wrinkles. “You got a training program for the Ultimate Boarder?”
“Kinda.” I came up with a few tricks I want to perfect, but I don’t have a specific routine yet.
He reaches for his Velcro pocket on the side of his shorts, pulling his phone out. He leans into me, the smell of sweat and boarding mixing and reminding me of playgrounds and excitement and everything I live for. He turns the phone sideways and pulls up a video. “Look at this year’s competition. You would wipe the floor with her.”
I gently rest my chin on his shoulder to see the screen better, and his body tenses under the slight touch. His breathing shallows, but I stay put. He’s probably thinking how gross I smell, but hey, boarding equals sweat.
The girl in the video is pretty well-known in the mid-west region of boarders. She’s got a channel and a decent following, but yeah… her routines are a bit basic whenever she competes. She’s fantastic at the one-shot tricks, but to do a flow, that’s where she needs some work.
I was that way too, but I’ve gotten better—making my routines more like a dance than a bundle of fancy tricks with no flow. Doing these things the past four years have taught me.
But she’s seventeen. Perfect age for a sponsorship. Me? I’m a grandma on wheels.
“See?” he says, clicking his phone to black. I lift my chin from his shoulder, and he faces me. “You could get the sponsor.”
“It’s not a guarantee, Tanner.”
“Nothing is, right?” He pushes his phone into his pocket. “What’s the harm in giving it a shot?”
“Pete’s moving out. I need extra hours at the ranch, which will suck up my board time, and I will not let you risk your job just for me.”
He makes a blah blah blah motion with his hand, and I give him a shove.
“I mean it! This one-time thing will be a one-time thing.”
“You can’t give it up, Brink.” He levels me with his gaze, turning on serious Tanner that I can barely take seriously. I try to suppress the smile creeping on my lips. “I will not let you give up something so important.”
My heart warms in my chest, and I feel the urge to give him the biggest hug, but we’re both pretty gross right now. He thinks I’m always thinking about other people, but Tanner seems to always think about me.
And he called me my favorite nickname, and he did it on purpose, damn it.
Memories of watching the old Disney movie flash in my head. Dad had passed out on the couch and left the remote in my control, and I saw Brink and his gang boarding up and down Southern California.
They skated for the fun of it—it was a major plot point—but when I realized a person could get paid to board, I thought that would be the best job ever.
I was nine years old. Here I am, sixteen years later, still chasing after that career. I don’t even care that it won’t last forever. Whether it’s an injury or age that puts a stop to it, I want to board until I no longer can.
Shit, I don’t care about the stink. I’m hugging him, anyway.
I put my chin back on his shoulder and wrap my arm around his waist, giving him a purposeful squeeze from the side. “I’m pretty sure you’re my favorite person.”
A wobbly laugh pops from his mouth, and I quickly let go in case it’s my stink that’s causing him to shake so hard.
“Does that mean you’re taking me up on the offer?” he prods.
“It’s not a yes.” I bend for my helmet and straighten to my feet. “It’s not a no either.”
“Then I’ll send you my schedule for next week.”
I kick my board into my hands and elbow him lightly in the back. “Come on. I’ve risked your job long enough tonight.”
He quirks a grin and follows my lead, and we board out of our illegal activity. Normally I’d be relieved to be leaving, but I can’t help but feel the anticipation rising in my gut for when he sneaks me in again.
Guess I am saying yes.
I’m gonna do it.
I’m gonna tell Brink I love her.
I’ll get inside, flop on my couch with my grumpy old cat and my phone, and just text the hell out of her. I’ll ask her out. For tomorrow even. I’ll hold her hand. Board all night. Kiss her on her doorstep.
Yes, tonight is the night.
I key my way into my studio apartment, and Hawk greets me the second I step inside and flip the light on.
“Hey bud,” I tell him, bending over with a scratch behind the ears. He’s too old now, but he used to prop up on his hind legs and stretch out till I picked him up. I set my board down, shut the door, then pluck him into my arms. He’s all dead weight, letting me take care of holding him upright. Lazy bum.
His body rumbles against my chest, his purrs calling to the fast cadence of my heart. “Damn, boy,” I say, my grin permanent since I left Troublemakers. “It was a hell of a night.”
I drop down on my back, the worn couch cushions providing a less comfortable landing than I’d prefer, but hey, I could’ve fallen on concrete and even that wouldn’t damper my spirits.
“She hugged me tonight,” I tell Hawk. “Legit hugged me.”
“Mrreow.”
“Right?” I settle him on my stomach and give his back a good rub. “Think I’m gonna ask her out. Just do it. No flare… just a text for a date. Thoughts?”
Hawk stretches out, his paws tapping my chin lightly before he curls them under his bulky chest. I quirk a grin at the dude and tuck my hands under my head.
I can still feel her hand around my waist, her fingers squeezing tight, my skin heating and my heart skyrocketing to Jupiter. I swear it’s still up there, dancing around the different moons and stars and comets, having a good ol’ time.
I let out a giant sigh, and Hawk gives me a look, his ears tilting from the unexpected breath in this face. He doesn’t get me this happy so often. He can handle a little bit of breath and should really appreciate all these scratches and butt rubs.
I got Hawk after a pretty bad breakup, actually. He was wandering the streets outside my parents’ place, and I was on my way from my then-girlfriend’s house. For the first time since I left Troublemakers, my smile starts to fade.
I for sure was in love with Lydia. I was seventeen, but I knew it. My world revolved around her, and my purpose was to make everything easier for her. I was okay with it—I wanted to do whatever I could to make her happy.
We met during a swim meet for the school. She was there for her brother, and I was there for yearbook committee, back when I took still shots more than recording on my Sony. I caught a glimpse of the gorgeous redhead through the lens. I lowered the camera and plopped down next to her.
I was much bolder at seventeen. When I liked a girl, I told her. I did it at fourteen with my first girlfriend. Sixteen with my next girlfriend. And I did it right there at the pool with Lydia.
I remember
her blush. I remember the giggle that escaped her, the roll of her eyes. I remember every digit of the number she scribbled on my forearm.
Hawk nudges my hand, and I get to scratching, my thoughts distracting me from giving him proper attention. Lydia and I dated for exactly three weeks and two days, and I fell for her hard and fast. She was adventurous and bold, too. I kissed her two minutes into our first date, and I remember her telling me she liked that. She liked that she didn’t have to think about if I would or when it would happen. So I did everything like that for her, taking chances and throwing out the normal relationship rules.
The night I told her I loved her, she was reclined on her couch in the basement, sitting two cushions away from me. My dumbass didn’t see that obvious hint that she wanted space, only that her hair was thrown into a messy bun from her earlier jog. She was in a pair of sweats and a tank, and I thought how it was so great she was comfortable around me so quickly. I convinced myself it was the first sign of a forever love, and going with my bold theme, I threw it out there.
“I love you,” I said, and her shoulders tensed, her eyes dead focused on the TV in front of us. Shameless. That was the show playing on the screen.
When she paid me no attention, I figured she didn’t hear me. So, I said it again.
“I love you, Lydia.” I scooted onto the cushion separating us. She audibly gulped, her gaze dropping to her lap. She ran her thumb over the remote clutched in her left hand, her nail catching on the volume down button.
“Tanner, we need to break up.”
I thought she was kidding. Hand to God, I laughed like a complete fool and tried to give her a kiss. The moment she jerked from me, my heart shattered, and splintered pieces tore through my gut.
After an hour, she sent me home, and I replayed what she’d said over and over. “You’re too fast. You love too hard. You do too much. You think too little.” So many toos, and the worst thing was that she was right.
Every girl after that, I realized just how true those words rang. With every subsequent relationship, I got less and less bold, less and less “too much,” until I rested here, now too afraid to do anything.
A year and a half ago, I thought I was in love with another girl—Candace. And I told myself every day, “Ask her out, Tanner. Do it today. Today, damn it.” And it got pushed off every time until I was far too late. It worked out; Candace and Pete are a much better fit, and I’m sure I would’ve realized that eventually, but it hurt.
Mad was slower… It wasn’t a sudden infatuation. I didn’t fall in love with her the moment I saw her. Instead, I thought she was cool, then I thought I really like this girl, then I realized I could date this girl, then it hit me during one of her flawless runs that I’m head over heels, and if I let her slip through my fingers, I’d be a real dumbass.
I shift a hand out from underneath my head and grab for my phone. No more of this waiting for the right moment shit. I will ask her out. Pick her up. Hold her hand. Board. Kiss her goodnight.
Before I can open up my messages, a text comes in. My faded grin reappears when I see Brink across my screen.
Thanks for looking out. Boarding cures all!
That it does, and I tap the message open, taking another deep breath that annoys my grumpy old cat. The blinking cursor stares at me, and my heart plops back into my chest from its Jupiter journey. It’s on a high still, and the fear of rejection is fresh and right up there on the surface of my memories thanks to my trip. Hawk himself is a reminder of that night. The guy was on the sidewalk during my board-ride home, mewling at me until I picked him up and gave him a good scratch. No collar or tag… just a stray, I assumed then and later found out was accurate. When I put him down, he hopped on my board and hitched a ride with me.
I want to tell Maddie I love her, but that’d be too soon. I want to tell her how incredible I think she is, how smart and talented and funny and caring… but that would be too much. I want to tell her I want to spend every free second I have with her, but that would be too fast.
Yeah, I think I’d rather relive the hug tonight. There will be plenty of chances to ask her out in person over the next week with me sneaking her in.
For now, I’ll respond with short and sweet.
Anytime.
I wonder if she knows how much subtext was in that one little word.
If only it was legal to board at a mall. The place is riddled with spots to grind and ollie and just cruise. There’s a pep in my step as my sister and I head to Claire’s, her favorite place in the entire world.
“This is so much better than Troublemakers,” Demi says as she skips through the open doors, stopping at a display of Beanie Boos. She’s drawn to the koalas, of course. It’s her favorite animal, and she’s got a roomful of them already because Pete and I are suckers and will buy one if we spot it.
“Troublemakers is a literal amusement park,” I argue. How dare she bash my favorite spot?
“It’s sooo boring,” she sighs, her voice ending in a low growl. I chuckle and move around the Beanie Boo display and check out the many sets of clip-on earrings. I never did get around to piercing my ears. Not too high up on my priorities. Demi, however, is ready for the piercings.
“What’s boring about laser tag? Or paintballing? Or arcades?”
She rolls her head toward me, giving me her eleven-year-old sass that she’s had since she was six. “If I had money to do those things, I’d probably have fun.”
I stick my tongue out at her and wrinkle my nose. She’s a lot stricter about paying for the fun stuff than I am. Since Pete took a job there and Tanner and I became buddy buddy, I haven’t paid a penny for my boarding time. But when Candace found out Pete was letting Demi ride the rollercoaster for free and giving her free tokens for the arcade and slapping a wristband on her to let her bowl or do the zombie theater, she was appalled. Demi may have overheard the argument, in which Candace promised she’d pay for all of those things so no one got in trouble, and Pete refused to let Candace pay for anything. It’s an argument they have often, but Demi isn’t always so involved.
She crawled into my bedroom that night, and I handed over my extra earbud. We watched boarding vids and makeup tutorials—for her, not me—for the rest of the night. Demi never talked to Pete about it. She just told him she’d rather stay at home after school instead of tagging along with either of us to Troublemakers.
For a while she would sit and watch me board in the Wheel Zone, scrolling through her hand-me-down phone and occasionally chatting with Tanner. But when that became too boring, she opted to stay put at the apartment.
Most nights Pete is there with her. But now with Tanner being willing to help me out, I can work late at the ranch, hang out with Demi until ten when she’s conked out, and then jet over for some boarding time.
And ignore the fact that I’m a super awful person for taking advantage of Tanner’s kindness.
I pull out a pair of clip-on earrings that have little hedgehogs on them. They’re lavender, Demi’s favorite color as of last month. It changes a lot.
“Hey, check these out, Dem.”
She places a rainbow-colored platypus Beanie Boo up on its high shelf and wanders over to me so sluggishly it’s as if I’m asking her to go to bed. I shake my head at her dramatics; she can look at all the Beanie Boos she wants when I’m done showing her these.
“Cute, huh?” I show her, proud of my find.
“Mmhmm.”
“You want ‘em?” I got some cash on me for this mall trip, and Claire’s is the place to buy two, get three.
“Eh.” She lifts a shoulder. “They’re clip-on.”
“You don’t have pierced ears.”
“Yet.”
I make a face and slide the earrings on the rack. “Fine, be a butt.”
She gives little reaction to my teasing and goes back to the overpriced stuffed animals. She’s hilarious and apparently I’m out of touch. I swear if Candace had shown her the hedgehog earrings, she would’ve snap
ped them up.
I let her admire all the Beanie Boos while I wander aimlessly through the narrow spaces between each display. Even at Demi’s age, I wasn’t real excited about Claire’s. Never really had the chance to be. We were thrift store shoppers, and I’ve always been comfortable in jeans and t-shirts.
Yep, even my board was a hand-me-down. Belonged to one of my neighbors. He got a longboard and said bye-bye to his old one. I saw it sitting against the trash can, and being fresh off watching Brink! I quickly knocked on their door and asked if I could have it. His mom was super nice, too, giving me one of their older helmets. I’ve since upgraded that piece of equipment since my head required it, and the wheels have been replaced a few times, but my trusty board, which I dubbed the Millennium Falcon, is still that same old one that was my neighbor’s garbage.
“Mad?” Demi says, taking me out of my thoughts. I blink, realizing I’m staring at a wall of hair clips.
“You find something you want?”
Demi shakes her head, the corners of her mouth turned slightly downward. “Nah. We can go.”
Hmm… weird. We’ve only been wandering Claire’s for five, ten minutes tops. I expected at least a half hour.
“All right. You hungry?” The food court has the best pretzels and cheese sauce.
“Can we go home?”
I jerk back. Seriously, we just got to the mall. This is her place, much like a boarding park is mine. “You okay?”
“Yeah. Just tired.”
“You sick?” I put the back of my hand to her forehead, and she bats me away.
“I’m fine, Mad. I just want to go home.”
“If you’re sure…”
Her eyes narrow, and she takes a step away from me, crossing her arms. “Stop being my mom, okay. You’re my sister.”
Whoa. “Where’d that come from?”
A wave of regret flashes through her eyes, but she blinks it away and shakes her head. “Nothing. Never mind.”
“No… Dem, what’s going on?”
A wall of tears form, but she doesn’t let anything fall. She swivels from me, and my stomach clenches. It’s in my nature to mother her, to protect her, to ask what’s going on, assure her she can talk to me, and to let her know I’m used to mood swings. Hell, every girl is.