by Amy Sparling
On photoshoot day, we have to wake up at six in the morning and pile into a car that drives us an hour away to some private site. It’s an outdoor area that’s already been set up for the photoshoot. We’re on a wide-open area of sand and desert mountains and our dirt bikes are glistening in the sun. Someone spent a lot of time making them shiny and clean. The guys and I are each assigned an assistant for the day, and my assistant takes me to an RV that has my name taped to the door. I feel like a straight up superstar as I’m primped by three different stylists. My hair is fixed and gelled to perfection. My face is powdered and my nails are trimmed and filed into perfect square shapes.
A tall woman with a sharp face and her hair pulled into a tight bun on top of her head surveys me and then purses her lips together. “Okay, take it off.”
“Take what off?”
She waves her hand through the air. “Shirt. Pants.” Her hand swoops toward a clothing rack with a pair of riding pants on it. “Change into your costume.”
Costume? It’s riding gear… not some jokey superhero getup. But I’m too exhausted to tell her that. I pull on the pants which are brand new. “Where’s my jersey?” I ask.
The woman snorts and motions for me to move closer to a bright lamp. “This is your costume for the day. No shirt required.”
What?
She squints and studies my naked torso while I stand in the bright lighting. She waves a makeup brush around, dragging it down my chest and across my pecs.
“What is this?” I ask.
“You’ve got an impressive build, but I’m making it better.”
The makeup highlights your contours,” another girl says as she watches me. She’s the one who styled my hair earlier. “Some of these guys don’t have six packs on their own so we make them one.”
“Weird,” I say, feeling more than a little self-conscious. I’m a dude wearing powder on my face and makeup on my stomach. I can’t even imagine what they put women through for photoshoots. Why can’t we just be ourselves?
After I’m deemed perfect enough, I’m released outside. The photographer introduces himself and then he has me pose next to my dirt bike. The whole time we take photos I’m shirtless, my abs glistening in the sun, probably looking better than normal thanks to the makeup.
At one point the photographer’s assistant runs up to me and tugs on my pants, making them about as low as they can go without showing too much. What is going on here? I feel like a piece of meat being brushed with butter and seasoning and served up on a platter.
I look out over the other guys who are also being photographed shirtless next to their bikes. They don’t seem confused or weirded out like I am. Jett even flexes his arms in a muscle man pose before laughing for the camera.
When it’s finally over, I pull on the shirt I arrived in and walk over to the food table for a snack.
“That was weird,” I tell Clay who is filling his plate with cubes of cheese and apple slices.
“You’ll get used to it,” he says, taking a bite of an apple slice.
“Why did we have to be shirtless?”
“Because we’re pro athletes. We’re sex symbols.”
“I don’t like being a sex symbol. Why can’t we just be recognized for our talent?”
“Part of your talent is that body,” Aiden says, walking up and smacking me on the shoulder. “We won’t have these bodies forever, man. Just soak up the attention while you can.” He winks at me and then grabs a bottle of water and walks off.
Clay must see the grimace on my face because he chuckles. “You don’t look too happy there, rookie.”
I shake my head. “This is weird. All the PR stuff and the photoshoots… I just wanted to race. I don’t like the extra attention.”
“I don’t either, but at some point, you just learn to go with it. The job is worth all the boring extra crap.”
“I hope you’re right,” I say, turning to stare out at the scene. We’ve been treated like celebrities all day. We get free food and nice chauffeured cars and classy hotel rooms, so it’s not exactly torture or anything. There’s just something about all this Rockstar-like attention that I’m not a fan of.
“I’m fine being interviewed right after a race or something but all these other interviews are just awkward,” I say.
Clay nods. “Sometimes it’s a bit much. But we play the game to stay on the team. I have Avery here to keep me sane. I don’t know how the rest of the guys do it.”
Keanna comes walking up to the food table, all smiles like always. Jett’s wife is pretty much always in a good mood. “What are we talking about?” she says, flashing me a smile.
“How I thought this career was about racing dirt bikes but it’s actually about taking off my shirt and answering questions about my dating status.”
“Ah…” she says, frowning. “I guess they didn’t tell you that part when they offered you a job.”
I shake my head. “I’m being a team player here, but if I’m being honest, I don’t like this stuff. I kind of hate it.”
“You’ll get used to it,” she says, giving me a comforting smile. “Jett has embraced the attention. Sometimes I think he likes it as much as he likes the actual racing.”
“Fame comes naturally to him,” I say, thinking back to all the times I’ve watched his interviews on TV. “It’s not something I feel comfortable with. I’m not sure I’ll ever get used to it. I just want to race. I don’t want all this other stuff. They put makeup on my stomach.”
Keanna bursts out laughing at that last part. “Oh my gosh, I know, right? Isn’t that weird? Like, you guys are already jacked and fit. But that’s just the business… they want to make everyone look as good as possible. One time I hugged Jett after a photoshoot and there was makeup in the shape of abs all over my shirt.”
I smile along with her and tell myself to just get over it. I can’t spend all week complaining about how much I hate the PR stuff, especially not to the people on my team who have all seemed to accept this as part of the job.
At night, when I finally get back to my hotel after hours and hours of putting on a happy face for everyone, I drop to my bed and exhale a sigh that feels like I’m releasing weeks of frustration.
Everyone said I would get used to it. But I’m not so sure right now.
I’m due for a video call with my little brothers soon, but there’s someone else I’d really like to talk to right now. Someone I haven’t had a real talk with in a month.
I forget to play it cool and act like I don’t care. Because I do care. I want to talk to Bella.
And that’s what I’m going to do.
5
Bella
My mom gives me a sideways glance when I walk in the front door. “You look happy…”
I realize I’m smiling. I nod and head toward the hallway. “I had a fun day.”
She pauses her show on Netflix. “Anything good happen?”
I shrug. “It was just a good day.”
Mom doesn’t look like she believes me but she doesn’t ask anything else. I get to my room and quickly close the door behind me, then I let out a little squeal.
I went on a date today and it wasn’t half bad! In fact, I’d say it was half good. More than that—it was all good. This was my first official date in a really long time. I can’t count anything I did with Liam as a real date because we were just a fling. We were fake from the start.
But today was real. I wasn’t about to let my mom know what I did today because then she’d ask a million questions, but now that I’m in my room alone I’m free to relive this entire evening.
I took Joe up on his offer to go get coffee. He drives a black sports car that he keeps extremely clean. It was a different type of feeling riding in a fast car that sits low to the ground. With Liam, we were always in his truck, and dirt bike gear was everywhere. The cab smelled like dirt and oil and exhaust fumes. But Joe’s car smelled like clean leather.
We went to get coffee at a local café that a
lso sells fresh baked pastries. Their cinnamon rolls are amazing but they’re also the size of my head, so Joe and I split one. There’s something special about sharing food with someone on a first date. Joe was kind and a total gentleman and we had a lot of fun. I learned about his tattoos, how his dad is a tattoo artist and how that’s what he wants to be too, after he graduates college. He showed me some pictures of his artwork on his phone and he’s extremely talented. It made me realize that once again, I have no idea what I want to do with my life. Unlike Liam and his motocross and Joe and his artwork, I have zero talents.
But I tried not to think about that because I’ve been stressing about my future way too much lately. Tonight I was on a date and I wanted to have fun. Joe and I exchanged numbers and said we should hang out again soon. The night didn’t end with a kiss, but I certainly felt sparks.
I was nervous and awkward but I still had fun and I’m proud of myself for that. I can’t wait to call Kylie and tell her every little detail. She’ll be so happy to hear that I’m finally breaking out of my shell and giving this dating thing a real try. I am in college, after all. I’ll never be this young and carefree again, so I might as well make an effort to have fun.
Joe’s number is saved into my phone but I don’t want to be the one to text him first. Instead, I want to take it slow and casual. I don’t want to get attached too soon. I just want this to be fun.
My heart does a little pitter patter of excitement as I think about him. I can’t believe I’m actually crushing on someone new. This feels spectacular. The heavy cloud of heartache that’s been hanging over me since that day I had to end things with Liam is finally gone. For a while, I thought it would be with me forever. That I’d never have a reason to smile again. But Joe changed that.
My phone rings and my heart jumps into my throat. It’s not Joe… It’s Liam. And it’s a video call.
My heart pounds so hard I can hear it in my ears. Liam and I have only sent texts and Snaps to each other lately. Silly things like memes or funny articles. We haven’t talked face to face since he left.
I answer the call, feeling weirdly guilty that I look so good right now because I just got back from a date and my hair and makeup is done.
Liam is in a hotel room judging by the ugly artwork on the wall behind his head. His hair is messy, falling off to the side without any product to hold it up. He looks tired.
“Hey,” he says.
“What’s up?” My voice is entirely too cheerful. But this is awkward and I’m not sure how to act. “You look tired,” I blurt out to avoid having awkward silence.
“I guess I am,” he says, running a hand through his hair. “But I’m mostly just… I don’t know, stressed.”
“Worried about the race tomorrow?” He must be in New Mexico because there’s another professional race there tomorrow night. Not that I’m keeping track or anything…
He shrugs. “Not really. The races aren’t a big deal. I mean… I’m not nearly as fast as I thought I was, but they’re not something to stress over.”
“You’ve been doing really good,” I say.
He snorts a laugh. “Hardly. Fifth place is not good.”
“It’s very good for a rookie,” I say, and I’m not just making that up. “Professional motocross is no joke. You’re racing with people who have more experience and who are paid to train every single day.”
“I’ve always trained everyday too,” he says, those golden-brown eyes staring right at me. “I guess I’m just not good enough.”
“Don’t say that. You’re good enough. You’ll get better as the season goes on.”
It looks like he doesn’t care one bit about my pep talk. “Can I be honest with you?”
“Of course,” I say, feeling my throat go dry.
He’s quiet for a moment, but in his gaze I can tell his thoughts are swirling around in his mind. His lips press flat. “This isn’t fun.”
“What do you mean?” I ask, my hand wobbling a little as I hold the phone in front of me. whatever he says next has the potential to absolutely crush me.
His gaze drifts down and then he looks back at me. “Team Loco. The traveling… the interviews… the attention. All of it. It’s not fun.”
“Really?” I don’t mean to sound so dumfounded, but what he’s saying makes no sense. “That stuff is supposed to be amazing. You’re a celebrity now.”
He shrugs. “It’s not amazing. It sucks.”
“I’m sorry.”
He heaves a heavy sigh. “The only part I like is the racing, and that’s just one day a week. And really, even that isn’t as much fun as I thought since I’m not getting any podium finishes. I just can’t seem to focus on the track anymore. There’s too much other stuff. I had to wear makeup on my abs.”
“You what?” I say with a little laugh. “Makeup?”
He shakes his head. “Trust me, you don’t want to know. Here I am traveling and meeting people and being famous and it’s supposed to be fun. Some of it is, I guess. But at the end of the day I’m just alone in this hotel room and I’m missing my little brother’s hand drawn comic books and I’m missing my mom’s cooking and the smell of her house and the sound of the TV being on some stupid cartoon show my brothers like. This summer did something to me. It made me realize that my life was more than motocross. I liked living with my mom and Phil. I liked the whole family aspect of it. And all this traveling has made me miss them a lot.”
He looks up at me. “And I’m missing you.”
The lump in my throat grows bigger. “I miss you, too,” I say softly.
“This summer at my mom’s house was supposed to be a punishment but I ended up liking it better than any summer at home with my dad. And now that I know what that life can be like, it’s just really hard being on the road like this. Everyone keeps saying I’ll get used to it and I’ll start to like it, but that hasn’t happened yet.”
“Is that what the other guys say?” I ask.
He nods. “They keep telling me that I’ll grow to love this life.”
“So maybe they’re right. Maybe you’re just not giving it enough time.”
His bottom lip rolls under his teeth. He nods slightly. “I hope so. I’m kind of stuck here, after all.”
He gives me a faint smile and I give him one in return. “I’ll let you go to sleep now.” His voice is smooth like honey and it makes my chest somehow flutter and seize up in pain at the same time. “Thanks for answering, Bella.”
“Hey, anytime,” I say, putting on a smile I don’t feel in my heart. “I’m always here to talk.”
His grin turns up at the corner of his mouth. “That’s good to know. Bye, Bella.”
The moment our call ends, my eyes flood with tears. I tried so hard to keep it together, but now that he’s gone and I’m alone again, I can’t hold back the pain that seeing Liam causes. My heart feels squeezed in a vice all over again. It took everything I had to stay calm and collected on the phone, to give him advice to stay and get over his problems. I had to play the part of encouraging friend, not lovesick heartbroken ex-girlfriend. I think I played it well.
But now that the call is over, I can’t hold it in any longer. Tears flood down my cheeks, and the air is heavy with all the words I wish I’d said. I wish I could have told him to come home. To come visit me. To blow off the next race and come back to where he belongs, which is here in my arms. But former summer flings don’t get that privilege. I kept my mouth shut.
It doesn’t matter that I had a great day today. It doesn’t even matter that I went on a date and had fun. The tears on my face are a prominent reminder, with full force, that I am not over Liam Mosely.
6
Liam
I wake up early the next morning eager with the anticipation of finally getting back home. My flight leaves in a couple of hours and I’ll be back in Houston for three whole days before we take off again for another race. Three days of freedom. Three days of being home.
When I was younger,
I always liked going on vacations and eating the free hotel breakfast in the mornings. They have such a large variety that I’d load up my plate with fruit, waffles, bacon, sausage, eggs, a bagel, coffee and orange juice. Now, after a few weeks of eating hotel breakfasts, the novelty has really worn off.
I grab a bagel and some coffee and join the other Team Loco guys on a plastic booth at the back of the hotel’s café.
“I’m so glad we’re going home,” I say as I rip open a packet of cream cheese.
“Not me, I have to help out at the track,” Jett says, curling his lip. “My dad’s out sick with the flu so I probably won’t have any time to ride.”
“At least you’re working at a track and not somewhere stupid,” Clay says.
Jett nods. “True.”
After breakfast, I take a hot shower in my hotel room and then pack up all of my stuff. I’m so happy to get back home that I feel like I could float myself to the airport on my happy thoughts alone. But instead, I take a taxi.
Clay, Aiden, and Zach live in other states, but Jett also lives in Texas, so we normally fly back to Houston together. Only today he’s catching a different flight because mine was the last available seat when Avery booked our tickets last week. I have no desire to talk to strangers on the plane, so I plan on putting in my headphones and going straight to sleep. I barely slept at all last night after talking to Bella, and I’m exhausted now. My whole body feels worn out, like the stress of my career and the pain of losing the girl I care about is wearing out both my heart and my physical body. It’s a full on debilitating heart ache.
I really, really, really, want to sleep. So when I get to the airport and see that my flight is delayed, I feel like punching something. Apparently, there was engine trouble and the plane that was supposed to take me back home had to be pulled from service today. Of course. This would be my crappy luck.
