Supercross Me (Motocross Me #2)

by Cheyanne Young

  “What the hell, man?” Lincoln says, rushing forward and shoving the guy in the chest. “Apologize to my girl!”

  The guy looks around as if dazed, then finds me and lifts his beer bottle to his temple, saluting me with it. “Sorry!”

  He disappears and Lincoln grabs my arm. “You okay?”

  “Yeah. It was nothing,” I say as I stare at the drawstrings on his hoodie. Since when did I become his girl? Is this a thing now? Don’t I get a say in the matter? I want to ask him all of these things, but he’s slurring his words and wrapping his arms around me, pulling me close to him, and it just doesn’t seem like the right time. I don’t think he will remember any of this in the morning.

  “Lincoln,” I say, pressing my hands to his chest.

  “Yeah?” he whispers, sliding his hands lower down my back. His fingers slide into the back pockets of my jeans and he tugs me closer to him.

  It takes me a second to think of what I want to say. In the moment of silence, he takes it as an invitation and dips his head low, kissing my cheek and then my neck.

  “Wait,” I say, pushing myself backward. “You’re drunk.”

  “And you’re super hot,” he says, running a tongue across his bottom lip. He goes in for a real kiss, the scent of beer lingering just inches from my mouth. I back up, pull his hands out of my pockets and drop them at his sides.

  “Lincoln, I don’t—”

  “You don’t what?” he says, running a frustrated hand through his hair.

  I say the first thing that comes to mind. “Please tell me you’re not some jerk college guy.”

  “Hana, you know I’m not.” He reaches for me again, and this time I let him take my hand. He is really attractive, but he is too drunk and I am too sober to find this moment in any way romantic. He pulls me toward him, then turns so quickly you’d think he had all of his senses and wasn’t several drinks deep by now. My back is forced against the wall, and he presses one hand against the window frame near my head while the other hand grips my waist.

  The moment his lips lower onto mine I know this is a mistake. I don’t feel a thing.

  Just the slightly wet, beer-stained lips of a guy who is kissing me when I don’t want to kiss him back.

  It doesn’t last very long.

  “Lincoln?” The shriek of a drunken girl makes us both freeze. I take the opportunity to push him a step backward, and the source of the voice starts spewing obscenities toward us. I think her name is Carly, and she’s the little sister of one of the local racers. Her bright blonde hair is silky straight, stopping just at her shoulders. “I can’t believe you would do this shit to me!”

  “What’s going on?” I ask, holding up my hand as if that will make her incredibly annoying voice stop yelling.

  Carly’s eyes shoot daggers at me. “Don’t stand there and act all innocent, bitch.”

  “Excuse you?” Rage erupts inside of me, and I’m about to lay into her when Lincoln takes my hand.

  “Hana, wait,” he says, meeting my eyes with a sudden sense of sobriety. He turns to Carly. “Look, we’ll talk later, okay?”

  “No we won’t talk later. You’re a player and pig.” Her nostrils flair and she punches him in the arm. “Don’t call me again.”

  “What exactly is going on here?” I ask.

  Carly shoots me an evil look and then hits Lincoln again. “The guy you’re making out with was having sex with me two days ago. I guess he didn’t tell you that.”

  “Carly, go!” Lincoln seethes, his fists tightening at his sides. “We’ll talk later.”

  “No, we’re never talking again.” She turns on her heel, obviously happy with the bomb she just dropped, and leaves.

  In the silence that follows, I stand here like an idiot, my mouth open. It feels like I’ve been betrayed, like all of the strings that hold my heart in my chest are being wound up and twisted to the breaking point. But Lincoln and I aren’t a couple and he can sleep with whoever he wants.

  “Hana, let me explain,” he says, grabbing for my hands again.

  I pull them away. “I think I’m just going to get out of here.”

  “It’s . . . god, Hana.” He grabs his beer from the table next to us and then slams it back down again. “It’s not what that sounded like.”

  “I don’t really care,” I say. All around us the party rages on, music thumping and people having a great time. I’m sure one of them can take me home. Lincoln says my name again and I just shake my head.

  It doesn’t matter what he says now. I was right before. He is just some jerk college guy.

  Chapter 16

  Four months ago – February

  “You completely forgot about me!” I was fully aware that my voice was shrill, bordering on tea-kettle-screeching, the kind of whiney bitchy tone that guys hate. Actually, everyone hates that kind of voice, especially if it is directed them. But I didn’t give a flying dirt bike about any of that. All I cared about was the epic display of betrayal that I’d just witnessed. I glared at Ash. “How could you do that to me?”

  “Babe, I’m not sure what you’re talking about,” he said, running both hands down his dreads, pulling them together at the back of his head for a moment before he let them go. “This wasn’t even about you.”

  I turned around and the wind hit my face, blowing my hair all around my head in a perfect physical description of what I felt inside. I grabbed a hair-tie off my wrist and wrestled with the unruly locks, refusing to turn around and face the motorhome again. We were in the middle of nowhere in some stupid parking lot in Glendale, Arizona. My family had flown in for the weekend to be supportive of Ash. Plus, it was Dad’s birthday, and he’d wanted to see the Grand Canyon to celebrate.

  They were still at the hotel, and I’d taken a taxi to get here and spend the day with Ash before his race tomorrow. It was supposed to be an amazing day. Some LA film crew had scheduled a filming with Ash and a few other professional supercross racers for some show they were doing about Athletic Heartthrobs.

  All week Ash had been equal parts nervous and excited, often throwing in a little bashfulness, saying he wasn’t really a heartthrob. But of course he was. He’d said he needed me here with him, for his big non-supercross TV debut. And so I’d come.

  And then he completely forgot about me.

  I’d stormed away as fast as my legs could take me, but it was nothing for Ash. He caught up to me halfway across the parking lot. There were other cars here, motor homes and toy haulers mostly. This was the staging area for everyone who would be racing in the arena tomorrow. Luckily, I didn’t see anyone standing around to witness this fight.

  “Hana, what’s wrong?” Ash walked up behind me and rested his chin on my shoulder. His hair tickled my ear, but I ignored it, choosing instead to keep my arms folded across my chest and to keep staring out at the Walmart across the street as if there was anything worthwhile waiting over there.

  A few seconds passed, and his arms slid around my waist, tentatively at first. When I didn’t push him off, he enveloped me in a hug. “Hana, please talk to me.”

  I sighed and turned around, shifting so that his arms stayed around me. I was pissed at him, but that didn’t mean I wanted him to let go. My eyes couldn’t meet his, not when I was second-guessing myself so much.

  “That whole segment was about making you a piece of sexy man candy,” I began. Ash quirked an eyebrow. “They asked you fifty million questions about girls and about being a heartthrob,” I said, making air quotes over the last word just to be a jerk. “And you never once mentioned me.”

  Ash’s eyes widened in recognition. “Ah . . . yeah I guess I didn’t.”

  He let me go and took a step backward and the sheer look of I’m a dumbass that etched across his face gave me a huge amount of satisfaction. “I guess there wasn’t really a place to mention you, though.”

  “Are you seriously arguing that right now?” I threw my hands up in the air, remembering every stupid second of that scantily-dressed woma
n who gave him the interview. Not only did she flirt with Ash like crazy, using every opportunity she could to reach across their director’s chairs and touch his arm or knee, she kept asking him things that would have made me uncomfortable if I were him.

  How do you deal with knowing women everywhere find you incredibly sexy?

  How many times have you been flashed since you became famous?

  What’s your workout routine like? Can I feel your massive biceps?

  And my personal favorite:

  Would you ever consider dating a supercross fangirl?

  Ash’s gaze was pleading with me to calm down, but I was so pissed all I wanted to do was yell. “Do you even want to date me anymore?”

  “Of course I do,” Ash said, his voice a smooth lake compared to my raging ocean. “Why would you say that? I love you, Hana.”

  I shook my head. “She asked if you’d date a fangirl and you just laughed and said probably not.”

  “That’s good, right?” Ash took a step toward me, but I backed up. “It means I don’t care about other girls.”

  “No, it’s not good. You should have said you have a girlfriend!” I could feel my fingernails digging into my palm, and even though I’m not really a violent person, I kind of wanted to slap him right across his gorgeous face just like they do in the movies. “Ash, the whole freaking segment was about girls and you never even mentioned me. It’s like you’d rather these stupid fangirls think you’re some available single guy instead of knowing that you’re taken.”

  “That’s not it,” Ash said. His shoulders fell and he squeezed the bridge of his nose between his fingers. “You’re right babe, I’m sorry. That was shitty of me. I wasn’t even thinking straight—I was nervous as hell, and I guess I just froze.”

  I gave him a look that said nice try. “It didn’t sound like you had frozen. You sure laughed a lot with Miss Bouncy Boobs.”

  “Hana, please,” Ash said, desperation covering his features. “I’m sorry. I really am. What can I do to make this right?”

  I heaved a sigh and shook my head slightly, gazing out at the shopping center across the street, the cars cruising down the highway—gazing at anything except for Ash, who was right in front of me, his heart on his sleeve. “You could just admit the truth and stop dragging me along like a lost puppy.” I clenched my jaw. I would not cry. “Just break up with me already. It’s obvious you’re thinking about it.”

  Chapter 17

  Mike’s mansion of a house is in the literal middle-of-nowhere. I don’t have my truck, and I could walk for the rest of the night and not reach anywhere important. And that makes throwing up my hands in annoyance and storming out the front door kind of a stupid move. Still, I do it anyway, making my way through the throngs of people until I reach the front door, where I swing it open and step out into the warm summer night.

  Cars are parked all over the driveway and in the yard. I walk through them, down to the long strip of concrete that’ll take me anywhere but here. It dawns on me now that I probably shouldn’t go to anymore stupid hicktown parties. Fletcher’s party was a disaster, and so are Mike’s parties. Maybe I’m just not a party person even though everyone else seems to love them. Maybe I’m just broken.

  I make it to the end of the driveway and look out at the vast stretch of county road in front of me. Across the asphalt is a field with cows and tall grass. To the left and right is just darkness. They don’t even put streetlights this far out of the city limits. With a sigh, I call Shelby. She doesn’t answer.

  My mind races to solve my inconvenient problem right now. I stare at my small number of contacts, completely bypassing my parents. I’m not calling Dad unless as a last resort. Maybe walking home, which is a really crappy option, would still be the best idea. Alyson isn’t exactly a come-and-rescue-you type of friend, but I call her anyway.

  “Hey girl!”

  She’s clearly drunk. But I ask it anyway. “Are you drinking?”

  “Hell yeah, I am! It’s Friday night before Regionals week!”

  “Where are you?” I ask, kicking at a loose rock on the road.

  “Mike’s party. Where are you? You should come out here.”

  I glance back at the house, its lights all on and music pumping through the walls. With so many people here, she hadn’t even seen me earlier. “Yeah, maybe.”

  I try Shelby again but she still doesn’t answer. It’s probably movie night with her boyfriend so who knows how long it’ll be before she can call me back. With no other options, I call my little brother.

  “Sup?” he says. The sound of bullets flying tells me he’s glued to his Xbox.

  “Hey, Teig.” I try to think of a way to say this that doesn’t make me look like a total loser. “Don’t you have a few friends with older brothers who have cars?”

  “Uh yeah, why?” The gunfire pauses.

  “I’m kind of stuck at Mike’s party and need a ride home. Could you maybe get one of your friends to come pick me up?”

  He snorts. “Call Ash.”

  “That’s not happening.”

  I can practically hear his eyes roll from across town. “He’s home for once, and he has a truck, and he will be happy to come get you. Wait, are you like, wasted or something?” he asks, his voice getting all conspiratorial.

  “I haven’t been drinking, Teig. But Lincoln has, and he’s kind of a d—” I let out my breath and remember I’m talking to a ten-year-old. “Jerk.”

  “Wow, well okay. Don’t worry, Hana. I can help you.”

  I breathe a sigh of relief. “Awesome. Do you need Mike’s address?”

  “I don’t, no. But Ash might need it. You can give it to him when you call him.”

  “Seriously, Teig?” The urge to throw my phone as hard as I can makes my fingers tingle. “You’re going to do this to me?”

  “I’m not doing anything bad, Hana. Just call Ash. I love you!”

  The call ends, and I press my forehead into my palm. I’d rather ask my mother to drive all the way here from Dallas before calling Ash to rescue me from a failed date.

  “Hana!” I spin around at the sound of my name and find Lincoln stumbling down the driveway, a look of pure regret plastered over his drunken features. “There you are. Why’d you leave like that?”

  He comes to a stop in front of me, and I move over, stepping near the grill of an old Ford truck. I want distance between us, however small it may be. “Of course I left,” I say, throwing up my hands. “I was on a date with you and found out you’re sleeping with other girls.”

  His mouth falls open like he just can’t fathom why I’m upset. The simple gesture sends anger coursing through my veins. “Hana, wait. We just need to chill for a second.”

  “I’m chill.” I lift my shoulders. “I’m super chill. You need to leave, please.”

  Lincoln bends his knees a little. “Why? Hana, I don’t get it. We’re not even officially dating, and you’re acting like I cheated on you or something.”

  I shake my head. “I didn’t say that. I know we weren’t official, but I didn’t think you were that kind of guy, so whatever we had between us is over now.”

  “What do you mean that kind of guy?” Lincoln scowls for a split second and then he takes a deep breath and rolls his eyes. “You mean a guy with needs? Uh, maybe you should learn a thing or two, Hana.” He snorts and shoves his hands in his pockets. “All guys have needs. If you’re not screwing a guy, someone else is.”

  I don’t know why it happens, but hot tears threaten to spill over the corners of my eyes. I blink them back, clenching my fists and telling myself it’s just anger. I’m pissed, that’s all. I’m not letting his words get to me. I am not thinking about Ash and how since we aren’t together, someone else is probably with him.

  “Just leave.”

  Lincoln shakes his head. “I’m not going anywhere, Hana. Look, I really like you and we get along great. Why can’t we just forget this night and start over?” He steps forward, holding out his hand fo
r me to take.

  I shake my head and take a step backward. “Not happening,” I say, crossing my arms. “I don’t want to start over with someone like you. Just leave, okay?”

  Headlights appear behind me as someone turns into the driveway. They light up Lincoln’s features just as his face changes from compassionate and pleading to malicious and angry. “You need to drop the innocent little princess act, Hana. It was cute at first, but come on. If you’re not putting out, then someone else is. I’m telling you I’d like for that to be you. So chill out and let’s go back to the party.”

  I’d fought hard to keep those tears at bay, but now they can’t be held back anymore. The gaping hole of heartache in my chest has been ripped open. I shake my head. “I’m not going anywhere with you.”

  Lincoln curses and grabs my arm, tugging me toward the party. “You need more alcohol so you’ll calm down and realize you’re being a baby here.”

  I twist but he only grips tighter. “Let go of me!”

  Tires screech to a stop on the gravel behind us. A door opens and slams closed. “What the hell is going on?”

  Of course it would be him. Here to watch me humiliate myself with a loser who is about twenty steps below my ex-boyfriend on the totem pole of quality men. Lincoln squints toward the bright headlights of Ash’s truck, probably not knowing who he is at first. But I do; I’d know his voice anywhere.

  Ash appears next to me, his arm in a sling and fire in his gaze as he levels it at Lincoln. “Let her go.”

  Lincoln drops my arm and his lips twist into a scowl. “What’s a Hollywood guy like you doing at a party like this? Don’t you have motocross bunnies to be banging right now?”

  I stare at the vein in Ash’s forehead, watch a muscle in his jaw twitch. He can’t exactly fight Lincoln, not with a broken arm. One look at Lincoln says he’s thinking the same thing. “What are you going to do?” he says with a snort. “Kick my ass and lose your sponsorship? That’ll go over well with Team Yamaha.”