The Trail Rules (The Rules Series Book 2)

by Melanie Hooyenga

  He nods. “I’ll text tomorrow.”

  I know boys say all kinds of things to get what they want from girls, but with Mica I get the feeling he means every word he says. He waits until I’m in the house to back out of the driveway, and when I close the door, a soft smile spreads over my face.

  Mom and Dad are on the couch watching a movie, two glasses of wine and an empty popcorn bowl on the coffee table in front of them.

  “Did you have a nice time?” Mom calls over her shoulder.

  “Yeah, it was great. We went to that tapas restaurant downtown.”

  “Topless?!” Dad’s jaw drops, but his eyes are twinkling. “What kind of boy brings my baby to a topless joint?”

  “TA-PAS.” I emphasize each syllable, rolling my eyes. “Small plates.”

  Mom smacks his arm and laughs. “He knows. We’ve gone there a few times.”

  Dad makes a show of looking at his watch. “You’re home early. We didn’t expect you for another hour.”

  Reality smacks me in the face. The fire. Mica’s lips made me forget about it. “We got some bad—well, scary—news at the end of dinner and he was pretty upset.”

  They both grow serious. “Something with his family?” Mom asks.

  I shake my head. “No, but still bad. Crestpoint, the trail where I ride, is on fire.”

  Dad grabs his phone and I can tell from the look of concentration on his face that he’s pulling up the local news. “Says here it’s barely contained.”

  “A huge fireball exploded when we were there.” I can still feel the way the car shook when flames erupted over the tree line.

  “You were there?” Mom’s eyes go wide.

  “Just to check it out. They made everyone leave. Mica’s upset because that’s where he’s been riding his whole life.”

  “Well, we’re glad you’re safe,” Mom says. “I’m sure they’ll get it out by tomorrow.”

  The memory of the horror in Mica’s eyes saddens me. “I hope so.”

  I crawl into bed a little while later, determined to relive our kisses until I fall asleep, but I keep replaying the explosion. What if we’d been riding when it happened?

  I text Cally as soon as I wake up. Holy hot date.

  IT’S ABOUT TIME!!

  Sorry! The night ended kinda crazy.

  Bow chicka bow bow…

  lol no. But we kissed. Lots. It was amazing.

  swoon

  He’s… wow…

  I’m so happy for you!

  Thanks <3

  Did you hear about the fire at Crestpoint?

  We were there.

  What!?

  Not the whole time, but we got there right when a fireball exploded.

  Holy shit!

  Yeah.

  You and natural disasters…

  I snort. I hadn’t thought of that. I like to keep things interesting. Have you left for your race yet?

  On the bus now.

  I check the time. It’s way too early to be on a bus. Good luck!!

  Thanks. I’m nervous but excited.

  You’ll crush them. Cally has always been on a ski team but when she moved here in the middle of the season last year, it was too late to get on the Monarch team. She was so distraught it was like someone clipped her wings, but now she’s back in her element.

  Gotta go. Coach is talking. xoxo.

  Bye!

  I toss my phone on my pillow and close my eyes, but I can’t fall back asleep. Images from last night play on repeat: Mica holding my hand, the fire and panic when the sky exploded, then finally kissing goodnight. As far as first dates go, that will be hard to top. I hate that I won’t see him every day at school, but it might be nice to have something separate that’s all mine. And maybe I won’t be as distracted in class without the promise of seeing him in the hall.

  My phone buzzes while I’m drifting in and out of sleep. I open one eye to check who it is and when Mica’s name pops up, I grab my phone and snuggle deeper into the covers, pretending his arms are around me.

  Morning. Last night was great.

  I’m glad he can’t see my face right now because I am zero percent composed. Between my goofy smile and lovesick eyes, there’s no way I could pretend I’m not smitten.

  He texts again before I can reply. Good news. Fire’s 90% contained.

  That’s awesome! And good morning.

  Snow helped.

  It snowed more?

  Have you looked outside?

  My eyes flick to my blinds, which are under strict instructions not to let any daylight pass. Not yet.

  There’s a pause, then Are you still in bed?

  Boys who get you flustered with the slightest touch should not be allowed to use words that make you think of sex. Especially not when you’re in bed and your mind too quickly jumps to what it’d be like if he were here.

  Mike?

  Yep, still in bed.

  Me too.

  Yeah, now my imagination’s in overdrive. So how do you know it snowed?

  We have these things called windows. They’re cool. Let you see outside.

  Smartass.

  Guilty.

  Fresh snow is always magical and I’m tempted to peek outside, but my bed is too cozy.

  Feel like riding today?

  My mind is still stuck on us in bed—albeit separate—and it takes me a second to realize what he means. In the snow?

  Have you ridden in the snow before?

  Maybe when I was ten.

  It’s good practice for the Pow Cross.

  You really think it’ll snow for that?

  I’ve made sacrifices every night.

  I laugh out loud. Then I better practice.

  Pick you up in an hour?

  I touch the tangled mess of hair on top of my head. Normally I wouldn’t shower before riding, but if last night was any indication, we’ll be up in each other’s personal space more than the other times we’ve ridden. Hour and a half?

  You’re already beautiful.

  I blush. Alone in my room with no one looking at me, I blush. I’m still showering.

  Then I will too.

  And now I’m picturing him naked.

  An hour and twenty-nine minutes later, he pulls into my driveway. There’s easily two more inches of snow, and he’s parked in the tire tracks from when Mom went to run errands, leaving the rest of the powder untouched.

  He’s getting out of the car when I step outside and we both smile when we see each other. I’ve added a pair of leggings beneath my riding shorts and have so many layers on top I’m worried I won’t be able to steer, but Mica looks at me like I’m the sexiest thing to walk the earth. His legs are covered as well and I want to run my hands over his chest, despite the long-sleeve shirt. We close the distance between us and stop inches away. When you’ve been dating for a while, you don’t think twice about kissing the other person whenever you want, but this is still so new it’s like neither of us are sure what to do. I rest my hand on his chest, stand on my toes, and press a kiss to his cheek.

  “Good morning,” I say.

  “Yes, it is.” His voice is a little rough, like this is the first time he’s spoken today. He smells like soap and mouthwash and something woodsy and without thinking, I turn my head to kiss him on the mouth. His lips quickly cover mine as his arms slide around my waist, holding me against him. Last night we’d been sitting when we kissed so this is the first time I’ve felt the full length of him pressed up against me. And I like it.

  A passing car honks and we jump apart. He laughs first, and soon we’re both giggling like little kids. “Are you ready to go?” he asks. I pick up my bag from where I dropped it in the snowy grass and open the garage. He hesitates near the front of his car. “Can I grab your bike?”

  That little question makes my heart nearly burst with happiness. “Sure.”

  He hauls it onto his shoulder, then has it fastened alongside his on the rack way faster than I could ever manage. “You don’t mess around
.”

  He raises an eyebrow. “I spend half my time teaching people how to do this after they buy new bikes. I could do this in my sleep.”

  I shake the dirty thoughts from my head and head to the passenger side. He opens the door and brushes another kiss on my cheek as I get in. Once we’re on the road, I ask what I’ve been avoiding. “So where are we going? I assume Crestpoint is closed?”

  He’s driving cautiously, eyes glued on the road, but manages a frown. “They’re saying a couple hikers started the fire. Fricking cigarettes.”

  With all the talk of lightning and natural catastrophes, I’d kind of forgotten that mankind is just as big of a threat to nature. “That sucks.”

  “Yeah. It does.” His fingers flex against the steering wheel and I reach over to touch his arm. His gaze flicks to me, and his face relaxes. “I thought we’d go to Jagged Ridge.”

  “Where the Pow Cross will be?”

  He nods. “They won’t have the course marked yet, but I can show you what to expect.”

  Excitement tingles through me. I’ve been nervous about the competition—especially the thought of riding in the snow—and now I can see what I’ll be facing. “Thanks. I’ve been wanting to check out the trail before the race but didn’t think it’d be possible.”

  “You should have said something.”

  I shrug. “I didn’t know if we knew each other well enough.”

  He reaches for my hand and my stomach flip-flops. “I’d like to.”

  I stare at our hands—his large one covering mine—and smile. “Me too.”

  We ride in silence, me lost in thoughts of possibilities, and he holds my hand until we arrive at the trail. Despite the snow, the parking lot is full and we have to park in the grass along the edge of the woods.

  “They must’ve had the same idea,” he says. “First snow run of the season.”

  “Do you think it’ll be too crowded?”

  “Nah. It’ll be good practice for the race. Have you ridden in groups before?”

  “Just that day with all of you. And I wiped out.”

  He touches my cheek. “Falls happen. The key is knowing how to land so you don’t hurt yourself.”

  I laugh nervously. “Can you teach me that, too?”

  He nods, his eyes on mine, and I decide to confess my lame secret.

  “I have one other thing I… um… need help with.”

  His eyebrows raise and I immediately blush.

  I take a breath. “I don’t know how to pass.”

  “Like, other riders?”

  “On the trail, yeah.”

  “Didn’t you when we were all together?”

  I shake my head. “Most definitely not.”

  “But you want to try today?”

  I peer through the windshield at the snow-covered ground. “Sure?”

  He grips the top of my shoulder and squeezes. “You will be a master passer by the end of the ride.”

  I burst out laughing. “I don’t know if I should be excited or scared.”

  He leans close. “Excited. Definitely.”

  There’s a quiet moment, a heartbeat where we’re staring at each other, the air between us charged with the multitude of directions this can go, then the corner of his mouth lifts in a smile and he kisses my cheek. “Let’s go.”

  The parking lot is empty of people but the snow on the trail is already criss-crossed with tire tracks. We stop at the head of the trail and Mica adjusts his water bottle. “White pow isn’t much different than brown pow, it’s just more slippery.”

  I snort a laugh. “I will never get used to that phrase.”

  “Brown. Pow.” He drags out each vowel, his mouth forming a wide O with each word, and I burst out laughing. “How now brown cow.”

  I lean over my handlebars, still laughing. “Omigod, stop.”

  “Wow. That’s quite a bow.” I smack his arm and he howls, “Owww!”

  I’m laughing so hard my sides hurt, and his straight face finally cracks. There’s a flirtatious energy behind his smile and my nervousness about riding in the snow disappears. “You want to lead?”

  “Just until you achieve snow master status, then I expect you to pass me.”

  I snort. “Yeah, right.”

  We start off slowly, and he’s right, it’s not much different from riding in loose dirt, or slush as I’ve heard them call it. I tighten my grip to keep the front tire from wobbling, my arms locked, and stay focused on the trail Mica cuts in front of me. The flat path winds through trees dusted with snow, and I glance up through the treetops at the blue sky above. Shouts from other riders echo through the forest but so far we haven’t seen anyone else.

  At the first sign of an incline, my tires slip and I squeal as I lose my balance. I land with one foot on the ground, but stay upright.

  Mica glances over his shoulder. “You okay?”

  “All good!” I shout. I spin the pedals around so I can get leverage, then hop back on and keep pedaling. Aside from when he checked on me, Mica hasn’t changed his pace, and that makes me happier than I could imagine. I love that he assumes I know what I’m doing and don’t need him babying me every two seconds.

  The trail banks right, getting narrower. Mica ducks under a low branch and wobbles, and in the next second his bike goes out from under him and he’s on the ground. I scramble off my bike and rush to his side, but he’s already on his feet and brushing snow off his clothes.

  “You scared me.” I feel a little stupid for overreacting, but he doesn’t seem to feel that way. He brushes his hand along my jaw until it rests on the side of my neck. His hand is cold from the snow, and it sends a shiver through me.

  He smirks. “That was your first lesson in how to fall.”

  I look from where he fell to where he’s standing. “You never even stopped moving.”

  “Falling’s gonna happen. You get hurt when you fight it.”

  “I’ll try to remember that.” I touch his arm. “As much as I appreciate you trying to help me, no more of that, ‘kay?”

  He laughs. “No promises.” He looks over my shoulder as three bikers—a woman and two men—approach from the way we just came. They’re decked out head to toe in top of the line gear, but seem to be struggling with the incline. “Heads up.” We step to the side to let them pass, but they’re going so slow I could walk faster than them.

  “Morning.” The first guy pants as he passes. “Great day… for …a ride.”

  “You know it.” Mica smiles, but it’s not the soft smile I’ve grown accustomed to. This is the polite but emotionless smile from when we helped that guy last week.

  “Are you in salesman mode?” I whisper.

  “Can’t turn it off,” he says, smiling at the second man, who’s breathing so hard he looks like he might have a heart attack in front of us.

  The woman pedals easily and nods at us from behind man number two. “First pow run. Can’t beat it.”

  Mica treats her to a genuine smile. “That’s why we’re here.”

  “Have fun,” she calls over her shoulder.

  Mica presses his arm against mine. “You know what this means, right?”

  I tilt my head at him, and for a second forget what he asked. His light eyes sparkle in the sunlight and his normally pale cheeks are red from the cold. I want to drag him into the woods and do unspeakable things, but he’s staring at me, waiting for a response. I shake my head to clear it. “What’s that?”

  “You get to pass them.”

  We catch up to them a few minutes later—after I planted a kiss on an unsuspecting Mica—and my heart gallops in my chest. Mica’s still leading so I simply need to copy what he does and it’ll be fine. Riders pass each other all the time. I just need to yell “on your left” and maintain my speed—making sure I don’t clip them or slip off the trail and tumble to the ground, or worse, crash into a tree.

  “On your left!” Mica shouts, and his voice echoes through the forest. The woman waves a hand for us to pass, an
d Mica accelerates around her. They’re spaced out enough that he can fit between her and the guys, but hearing him approach must have spooked them because the guy in front of Mica jerks his handlebars back and forth, almost falling. I can’t pass the woman until he’s past the next rider, so I maintain my speed at the back of the pack. My legs start to burn with the effort of the climb, but she looks effortless on her bike, her body in perfect control. I try to copy her movements—the way she seems to move in slow motion while still climbing up the hill.

  I even out my pace, slow my breathing, and block out everything but the sounds of the forest and the trail in front of me. The snow has sent the normal critters into hiding, so the only noises are the birds calling and my own steady breathing. A soft breeze rustles the leaves above us, and snow drifts down as if falling for the first time.

  “You’re clear,” the woman calls over her shoulder.

  I snap out of my trance. Mica’s passed both guys so now it’s my turn. You can do this. I take a deep breath. She doesn’t know you’ve never done this before. She moves to one side, giving me room to pass, and I pedal harder.

  Don’t hit her. Don’t hit her. Don’t hit her.

  I repeat the phrase with each breath. Maybe if I say it enough it’ll keep me from taking us both down.

  My front tire is even with her back tire. “On your left.” My voice isn’t nearly loud enough, but she glances at me over her shoulder so I know she heard me.

  No turning back now.

  Well, I could slow down and stay behind her like I’ve done every other time I’ve ridden, but no. I’m doing this.

  I take another deep breath and push harder.

  Don’t look at her. Pretend she’s not there.

  Now we’re side by side. If anything bad is going to happen, it’s going to happen now. My front tire wobbles in the snowy slush but I tighten my grip and keep charging forward.

  “You’ve got this.”

  For a second it’s like my thoughts are channeling into the air around me, but it’s the woman gently encouraging me. Manners urge me to look at her and smile, but that would mean certain death for both of us. Or maybe not death, but a tangled mess of bikes and limbs and my ego. I smile, but stare straight ahead. “Thanks.”