Permanent Lines (2 page)

“Awesome race, huh?” she turned and asked after she was done.

I was still mystified. Speechless.
How did this even happen?
“Uh, yeah, good run,” I responded like a dumbfuck, scratching the top of my head
with my right hand while still holding my helmet in my left.

“Well, good luck.” She smiled and that’s when I noticed her teeth, fucking white as
hell against her olive skin. The girl looked like a damn model caught in a motocross
outfit. I was pretty sure I’d fantasized about girls like her a few times.

“Thanks. May the best man … or woman,” I corrected myself, “win.” I smiled back, feeling
my stomach flutter.
Shit no!
Was this chick actually affecting me?

She laughed at my slip-up then put her focus back up to the screen as the commentator
announced that the results were in.

“After close viewing and multiple playbacks, it’s been determined that the winner
of the 2012 Motocross Finals is … Merrick Drake!”

The crowd roared along with the annual fireworks that were set off every year, but
I wasn’t engulfed with excited adrenaline like I normally was.

“Congrats!” she yelled over the noise, extending her hand.

I took her hand and held onto it. “Thanks. You raced awesome. We should practice together
sometime.”

She smiled and began to reply but was cut off when Micah and the rest of the crew
bombarded me with celebratory hugs, nudges, yells, and anything else you could imagine
an excited group of guys would do. I ignored them all, standing up and trying to see
her over the swarms of people now congregating around me. I was getting pissed. I
didn’t know why, but I felt like I had something else to say; I needed to finalize
plans or something. I just wasn’t done with her yet.

I stood on my bike to see if I could spot her, but it was no use; it was like finding
a needle in a haystack. Before I knew it, I was being pushed into the winner’s circle
anyway to be awarded with my trophy and answer the million dollar questions—how did
I pull off such a close win? How did I feel? What was I going to do next? They were
questions I’d answered a million times before; I had about five sets of answers that
I just rotated at every race. Today’s was, “It was definitely a close call coming
into the last turn, but I held on, pulling in close, and managed to get enough lead
to grab the checkered flag.” It was robotic, but it worked and seemed to appease everyone;
they always got all excited and shit.

I don’t think there had ever been a time I grabbed my trophy so fast and ran, but
I wanted to get back to my trailer as quickly as possible to catch her before she
left. I still didn’t even know her name. My body instantly relaxed and I sighed with
relief when I saw her standing at the bottom of her trailer ramp doing an interview
with some radio station. I leisurely walked over, not wanting to interrupt. When I
came into view, they turned to me, excited to have me there, too, to talk to. Instantly,
I felt like a prick. I didn’t want to steal her thunder, but she didn’t seem to care,
smiling and inviting me in to answer questions with her. She was a cool chick, not
seeming bratty at all.

It was like a trickling effect when the other stations got wind of the first and second
place winners standing side by side and interviewing together. What originally started
as just the one reporter turned into ten more in seconds. Neither of us cared, answering
what was going through our heads the entire time and of course, if it bothered me
throughout the race that it was a girl riding my tail. That one made me chuckle and
I responded honestly.

“I had no clue it was her until the end.”

During the first interview, I finally found out her name. Amelia. It was different
and I liked it. I could see it working for her.

“So, uh, I don’t know your plans, but everyone is coming back into the city tonight
to celebrate at my bar if you’re down?” The words slipped from my tongue before I
even realized what I was saying, but it worked. I wouldn’t mind hanging out with her
tonight. I’d already hung a sign on the door before I left saying that the bar was
closed for a private party tonight, so I could actually celebrate instead of serving
everyone else. It was probably a little ballsy to assume that I’d be taking home the
trophy, but it’d been mine for four years running; I had to plan ahead.

“Yeah sure,” she replied, making my body thrum with excitement. “I actually live in
the city, too.”

“Really? Where?” I asked, needing to know.

“A few blocks from the square.”

My mouth dropped. “No shit! Me too.”

She looked at me like I was blowing steam out of her ass.

“Swear to fucking God!” I added for assurance.

“That’s crazy.”

“Well, do you wanna ride back in together?” I couldn’t believe how forward I was being,
but I couldn’t help it. The balls were falling in my court left and right, and there
was no way in hell I was dodging them. Amelia was damn near perfect, and I wasn’t
about to let an opportunity to spend time with her pass me by.

Her expression turned apprehensive. “Are ya sure? I probably smell.”

I laughed. “You definitely don’t smell.” She actually smelled amazing. Every time
she moved or her body swayed, I got a whiff of her scent—fresh but with a hint of
floral perfume, making me slightly mesmerized each and every time. “But if it’s a
big deal to you, my apartment and shower are above my bar.”

Shit, Merrick! Slow it down.

She didn’t seem to care, or maybe didn’t pick up on my insinuation about being naked
in my apartment, because her grin stayed the same. “I’ll keep that in mind,” she replied.

Even though I’m not that kind of guy—I swear my goal in life isn’t to get into every
hot girl’s panties—thoughts of Amelia naked in my apartment with me possibly by her
side, wet in the shower …
Jesus
. The attraction was definitely there, and a pull like no other to boot. It was becoming
pretty damn obvious that I had it bad for this girl. I wanted to spend time with her,
get to know her, and not to mention, kiss the lips that I had been admiring. Yeah,
I wanted Amelia. I wanted her in the worst possible way.

It was just past two o’clock in the afternoon. The sun was shining, the streets buzzing
below … everything was just as it usually was except for one thing—it was another
day on the imaginary calendar that I had in my head that counted the days I hadn’t
heard from Amelia.

We completely hit it off the night of the race. We spent that entire night together,
woke up the next morning wrapped around each other, then spent that whole next day
together with breakfast at the local coffee shop, lunch at my favorite burger joint,
and dinner ordered in and eaten naked on the couch. I was dumbfounded. Everything
was fucking perfect, and now she’s just—poof!—gone.

The fucked up kid from Jersey wasn’t supposed to find a girl like her. I thought she
was too good to be true, and now I see that I was right, because it’s been a week—seven
long days since I woke up to an empty bed and no fucking clue what went wrong. No
calls, no answers, just her voicemail, unanswered texts, and now a telephone line
that’s no longer in service. Somehow the perfect girl wasn’t so perfect … at least
not for me.

I couldn’t stand the douche that I’d become since she bounced in and out of my life.
I was never the guy that moped in my apartment. I was never the guy that let my heart
get in front of my dick. I wasn’t a player, an ass, or even a man-whore, I just didn’t
do relationships. I’d always done my own thing, really. I hooked up with girls here
and there, when the situation and girl were right, and always treated them with respect,
not just like a piece of ass. But I never got attached. Never. Not because I didn’t
want to or had commitment issues, I’d just never had that connection. I never had
that mad desire (or any desire, really) to get to know them better.

Until Amelia.

Amelia was different. She caught my eye immediately. I didn’t meet her in my bar.
She wasn’t begging for attention. She was chill, hot, and easy to talk to. The night
of the race was one of the best nights of my life. Even with all the alcohol we consumed
in those hours, I could remember it vividly—clear as fucking day …

“I can’t believe you own this bar!” Amelia’s eyes had spread open with shock when
she stepped out of the taxi next to the curb.

“You’ve been by here before?”

“Well, yeah. I’m just a few blocks up,” she had said, speaking the obvious, her smile
radiant against her flawless skin.

I couldn’t stop fucking staring. It was like she was an accident I couldn’t look away
from; my eyes kept returning to her. I tried not to make it obvious, but she caught
me a few times between the train and taxi ride back into the city. She smiled every
time. Either she was just a nice ass girl or she could feel it … the connection. It
was fucking ridiculous—I didn’t know what it was—some kind of draw, almost like an
addiction. Being with her was intoxicating.

I placed my hand on my heart, acting hurt. “And you never stopped in?”

Her cheeks flushed an adorable pink as a smile peeked out of the side of her mouth.
She glanced down to the ground, almost seeming embarrassed before she looked back
up to answer. “Yeah, I don’t get out much. I guess you could call me a homebody.”

Though the smile remained on her face as she said it, there was distance in her eyes.
They spoke. They spoke of heartache, of a past she wasn’t proud of. I wanted to ask
what it was—what shit for life hand she had been dealt. Because through our non-stop
conversations, I knew that I had totally misjudged her—she wasn’t the spoiled, rich
bitch that I thought she was. Well, she still could be … possibly … but not the whole
bitch part—she was far from that. She definitely was shaping out to be the total package
actually: hot as hell and super easy to talk to. There wasn’t a second throughout
the ride back that we weren’t talking, laughing and stealing quick glances from each
other, but on top of everything, she was into dirt biking—what chick could you say
was all of that? You couldn’t! Amelia was fucking perfect, one of kind, and if I knew
girls the little bit that I did, I’d say that she wasn’t too opposed to me either.
She did the whole blushing, bashful, sweet ass grin thing that girls did when they
were interested, but on a whole different level. It wasn’t annoying or over the top—it
was cute and I think actually shy, and hot as hell at the same time.

Still, I knew there was much more than what she showed on the outside. Only people
like us could see more, could see the shitty part. She carried something dark and
I wanted to know; I wanted to know it all, just like I wanted to know her inside and
out. I was about to ask, so fucking intrigued, but I bit my tongue—too soon. I didn’t
want to seem annoying, needy, or overindulgent, because I was far from that. I just
… I don’t know … cared, I guess.

It dawned on me how much Amelia and I were panning out to be alike. She had a past
just as I did, and one she wasn’t interested in discussing. She had a passion for
riding just like me. She was someone that I’d not only like to see sprawled out naked
below me, but someone that I felt a connection with, someone I had things in common
with that I didn’t need confirmation about to understand. And those eyes … they spoke
the same depths of pain that I’m sure mine had so many times.

“Well, with a fucking body like that, I don’t blame ya,” I joked, not believing the
dumbass line that just came from my mouth.
Fucking tool!
I shook my head, looking down, embarrassed.
Who fucking says that? Her being hot means she can’t go out in public? Good fucking
God.

She didn’t say anything, but I was sure she was about to. I could see her cracking
her knuckles, fidgeting as I tried to get my stupid shit together.

“Don’t respond to that,” I added once I finally had the balls to look up, taking her
hand and turning to the entrance of the bar to get inside before making a bigger ass
of myself.

I unlocked the deadbolts then held open the door for her to walk in first. Micah and
the guys were already there—they had a key to the back entrance that they used at
their leisure. They all started shouting and acting obnoxious when they saw us walk
in. I shook my head and smiled.

“If it ain’t number one and number two,” my buddy Grant greeted us immediately.

I nodded my head with a grin. “Grant, Amelia. Amelia, Grant,” I introduced, motioning
my hand back and forth between them.

Grant wiggled his eyebrows, impressed, making me punch his arm. He immediately gave
me a dirty look. “What the shit, Drake?”

He looked totally confused and I guess I could understand why. He knew there wasn’t
shit going on with Amelia and I. She was available … to the naked eye. But I don’t
know … maybe not from my point of view.
Dammit, what the hell was going on?