Running From Forever (28 page)

Just after 12:30, I finally got in my gear,
put on my helmet, and fired up the bike. It was my time to
concentrate and get focused for the race. My head was down and my
arms crossed over my chest, like usual. I was in my own little
world when I heard that fucking voice again. I couldn’t handle it
any longer; I turned the engine off and stormed out of my trailer
to see her sitting on her bike, yelling to Ken over the sound of
her engine.

With my helmet off, they both turned to look at
me. I couldn’t see her face hidden underneath her helmet, but I had
a clear view of her eyes. They were incredible; a color I couldn’t
describe.

“Problem, Merrick?” Ken asked.

“Oh, uh, no,” I said, starting to walk
backwards. I couldn’t remember why I came out here; my mind was
blank other than the inner conversation I was having about what
color eyes she had. They weren’t blue, but they weren’t green, and
they were too light to be considered hazel; they were almost an
aqua color.
Do people have aqua colored eyes?

Micah snapped me out of haze. “Dude! Ya gonna
get on your bike, or what?”

“Can people have aqua colored eyes?” I turned
and asked him.

He looked at me, confused as hell. “Have you
lost your fucking mind today?”

I rubbed my face and shook my head, realizing I
wasn’t all in; I’d been preoccupied all day by this chick and it
was starting to fuck with my head. Who the hell cares what color
eyes she had? I had to cut the bullshit and focus on my race.

At ten minutes to one, we were all called to
the starting line. Thank God her bar wasn’t anywhere near mine; I
think it was somewhere near the end, but I wasn’t really paying
attention. I focused on the metal bar in front of me, disregarding
the noise and commentators talking in the background. It was just
me, my bike, and the metal bar, waiting for the drop.

Moments later, my engine roared and I jumped out
into the front of the pack. As usual, I didn’t have a radio set on,
so I was on my own, taking turns and jumps at my own pace, watching
out for those around me. The first turn was crowded, as was the
second. By the third, the seasoned riders had separated from the
others.

By the fourth lap it was just me and another
rider out in front, weaving in and out of each other, trying to get
to the inside of the turns. It’d been a while since I had hardcore
competition, but it was what I loved—a competitor made the game
more challenging. Fighting for the first place spot held more honor
than riding in painlessly by yourself.

On the last jump, I had to pull a move I hadn’t
in a while; a crossover in mid-air. If I didn’t, I ran the risk of
not getting the inside of the final turn. It was by no means safe,
and if landed wrong, it could put me in a hospital bed. Thankfully
the landing was successful, albeit a little shaky, but I didn’t
crash land and it gave me the room I needed to take the inside. The
son of a bitch could take turns like he weighed two pounds, though,
putting him back on my ass and inching beside me as we crossed the
finish line.

When I looked up to see the rankings, the screen
was blank; it was too close to call just yet. I moved over to the
side and took my helmet off, waiting for the officials to review
the replay. Two seconds later, the rider that I was neck and neck
with came up beside me and looked up at the board. Everything in my
body dropped to the fucking ground when I saw who it was—Ken’s
fucking daughter. I watched as she slipped her helmet off her head,
rested it on her handlebars and redid her ponytail, which was
messed up from her helmet. I’d watched Kayla do it a zillion and
one times to her hair, but the way this chick did it was
entrancing.

“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; they were 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 effecting me?

She laughed at my slip-up then put her focus
back up to the screen as the commentator announced 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 the
ramp of her trailer 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 rude 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 body thrum with
excitement. “I actually live in the city, too.”

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

“West 50
^th
and 9
^th
Ave.”

My mouth dropped. “No shit! That’s like four
blocks from me.”

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 standing beside her. Yeah, I wanted Amelia. I wanted her
in the worst possible way.

I wasn’t big on chasing or relationships for
that matter, but fuck it all to hell, for the first time in my
life, I wasn’t running from. No, with Amelia, I was running to.

Coming late fall 2013

***

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you! Thank you for all your continued support.

Jennifer Roberts-Hall and the rest of A-team,
you ladies are the craziest, most wonderful group of women. You’re
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