Page 41 of Burnout
“Yeah,” I agree, chuckling. “That she is.”
“I can’t tell if you two are going to kill each other or tear each other’s clothes off.”
“Definitely the first.” Not that I haven’t thought about the latter.
Laughing, he drops one foot to the ground and stares at me through the visor opening of his helmet. “Why don’t you go sit in the crowd?”
Confusion mars my brow. “Kicking me off the crew already?”
His eyes dance with amusement. “Get some distance from it. Watch the tricks. Really watch. You’re so close to nailing it.”
I’ve been watching for two weeks, but I’d hop around on one foot blindfolded if he thought it would make a difference.
“What about Patrick?”
“He can handle himself.” With a rev of his engine, Colter takes off.
I check with Pat, make sure he has my number, and let him know where I’ll be in case he needs anything. Then I head out the side gate.
Colter hadn’t been kidding about the Valley event being small by comparison to the others planned. This stadium is packed, and the energy is high. It thrums under my skin, reminding me of when I used to enter small local races as a kid. The motocross events are bigger and flashier, but there’s no matching the energy here. It’s simple in a way I forgot it could be. Maybe that’s just me romanticizing it from the sidelines.
I miss being out there. I even miss Mike and his frequent pep talks on doing better, working harder. Like I haven’t put in the effort to be the best. I’ve worked my tail off for that. No pep talk needed. It’s a primal desire deep inside of me. I don’t want to do anything unless I’m trying to be the best.
I find a spot at the top of the first section and settle in. A little kid is bouncing on the bleacher next to me. He’s holding a toy motorcycle in his hand, eyes glued to the track. His mother shoots me an apologetic look that isn’t necessary. I still feel like that about racing. I’ve just learned to keep my body still while my insides jump with uncontainable excitement.
I’d written Colter’s advice off when he asked me to go sit in the crowd. I’ve watched them do these tricks a million times back at the practice track. But there’s something about the stadium lights and the extra adrenaline in their movements that has me seeing it with fresh eyes.
My phone vibrating in my pocket pulls me back down from the clouds. I’m getting to my feet, expecting Pat. Definitely not Avery.
I sit back down as I read her message twice.
Unknown
So I’ve been thinking. Maybe you’re right and my workouts suck. Also, this is Avery.
Smiling, I tap out a reply.
Me
No, it isn’t. Avery would never admit her workouts suck.
In response she sends me a selfie of her scowling directly at the camera.
Me
Did hell freeze over? Feels pretty warm here in Chandler, but maybe it hasn’t reached me yet.
Avery
To be fair, you haven’t exactly been a picnic to work with. If we’re going to do this, then I need to know you’re in it.
Me
I showed up all week and did handstands. What more proof do you need? Blood oath?
Avery
Tempting.
