Page 73 of Revved up & Ready

Make a new friend in Palm Springs –from Sadie’s list of things she’s never done

After about thirty selfies, I finally settle on one where my hair falls just right, my face doesn’t look weird, and the207on my shirt is legible. I post it with the captionSupporting my guy from afar today. My phone buzzes a moment later.

Cam: You look gorgeous.

A month ago, he kissed me—reallykissed me. Three weeks later,heofferedto go down on me. Then, two days ago—he did. He went down on me—that’s an understatement. He ate my pussy like he was starving.But it was deeper than that, too. I told him things I’ve never told anyone. We did things I’ve never done. He stuck with me when I got emotional and scared, reminding me that my pleasure isn’t an imposition.

At this point,it would be impossible to believe he’snotinto me.

Cam Hacker is into me.

I’m not sure how to feel about it. He’s a dangerous man—not necessarily to me, but to himself. He races motorcyclesfor a living, and something tells me even when he’s not racingprofessionally, he won’t give it up. If I let myself feel for a man like that, fall for him—I could lose him too quickly. Too easily. Toopermanently. Loving Cam Hacker would be like begging for a shattered heart.

But on the other hand, the idea that he would pick me, that we could be together—that someone so caring, patient, funny, and anexceptionallygood kisser would even be an option for me—is hard to ignore. How could I ignorehim? He’s taking up more space in my mind these days than he is in my home.

Me: Sorry I’m not there for this one.

He’s had three weekends of racing—making a total of six races—since the one I attended. I buried my head in the sand about him racing the first weekend and looked up the placements and points during the second and third. Today, Bea is coming over for moral support so I can hopefully watch one from home.

He’s been incredibly supportive of me, and I desperately want to be supportive of him too.

Cam: Please don’t worry about it.

Me: But I should be there to support you.

Cam: It’s really okay. I understand it’s a lot for you.

Me: I’m at least going to watch it from here.

Cam: You are?

Me: Yup! Bea’s coming over to watch it with me.

Cam: What’d you bake her?

Me: Sausage rolls and pistachio macarons. You’re missing out.

Cam: Kind of wishing I wasn’t out of town now.

Me: I’ll make something just for you when you get back. Any requests?

Cam: I’ll eat any of your cookies any time.

We haven’t talked about what happened between us directly yet, but he’s made plenty of indirect comments like this one in the days since. I never know how to respond.He was right. It was an experience I needed. And I want it again—immediately—with him. But is that a good idea?

Cam: I’ve got to get ready. Talk to you after, love.

Me: Remember, rubber side down! And don’t forget your SPF!

SPF would be redundant. He’s covered head-to-toe, but I still tell him about it every race. I get to remind him to be safe without actually sayingdon’t crash.

Me: And don’t get too cocky. Find your balance between the tortoise and the hare.

Cam: You got it, sunshine.

Bea shows up an hour before the race’s official start, wearing a classicNirvanat-shirt—black with a yellow smiley face that hasXs for eyes and a tongue sticking out.

“Look at you, wearing the right colors and everything,” I say, pulling her in for a hug.

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