Cycling Downhill: A Sweet Young Adult Romance (Love is a Triathlon Book 3)

by Chrissy Q Martin

  Taylor sets her bag on the table. The sound is loud enough to mask my exclamation of surprise. Taylor’s lips form an O, and she sits next to Paul. Her eyes are wide, and it looks like she’s debating whether to say hi. The awkwardness of this is skyrocketing with each second.

  “Friends?” I repeat. We may have said we were friends at one time, but I don’t think we ever truly were. He crushed on me, I crushed on him, we avoided each other while I was dating Dylan, and then Paul and I dated. We’ve never been friends, and I don’t know if we understand how or what it takes.

  “Yes,” Paul says. “Let’s stay friends.”

  Stay friends? The guy I told I love wants to be friends. What is being friends going to do anyway? Will he tell me why he broke up with me?

  I hold my breath and wrack my brain for an answer. Maybe being friends with Paul is the way to get him back, but it’s too hard to think about right now. It’s hard enough to see Paul, and my heart is still torn apart. I can’t think about what being friends will do to our severed relationship.

  “Okay,” I say it in an exhale and try not to look at Taylor. She’s friends with both Paul and me. We’ve all been swimming together for years. I know she’s picked up this means Paul and I are no longer together as a couple. After fifteen weeks of dating, nearly four months, we’re done. Paul broke up with me. That little detail keeps getting to me…that he broke up with me.

  Paul leans his forearms on the table and links his hands together. His fingers twist, a movement which means he’s anxious. “Could you do one more thing for me, as a friend?”

  I cross my arms over my chest. Something as a friend doesn’t sound exactly good right now because we’re not friends yet. “Sure,” I say. Every nerve in my body is tense, not knowing what to expect.

  “Don’t go out with Dylan again.”

  I freeze. Paul finally meets my eyes with his and I don’t know what to say. I never know how to respond. Why am I always without something to say? Does Paul know I owe Dylan a date?

  Taylor drops her pen and the noise startles all of us. The expression on Taylor’s face shows she’s horrified to have interrupted our conversation. I’m relieved and I smile at her.

  “Oh.” Paul looks back at the table. “I forgot. Is he still seeing Sabrina?”

  “We’re just friends,” I say, avoiding any mention of Dylan and Sabrina. They fake dated to make Paul comfortable with me trying out for water polo with Dylan. I’m tempted to tell Paul, if he’s my friend, to not date Bridgette. I’m concerned she played a huge part in why Paul broke up with me out of the blue.

  Thankfully, I no longer have last period study hall with Bridgette and Tara. If I have to have Paul in classes with me this trimester, I hope to avoid any mean girls.

  “Hey, guys,” a voice says. “Is this the swimmer’s table or what?”

  Tara, Bridgette’s other best friend, perches near the far end of the long table. She grabs the last empty stool, on the other side of Taylor, and plasters a wide smile on her face.

  Great. My luck is nonexistent.

  FIVE

  “Worst. Day. Ever.” I lean my forehead into Nora’s shoulder.

  She pats my back. “I thought Saturday was the worst day ever.”

  “I have three classes with him,” I mumble into Nora’s shoulder, and the fuzz of her sweater brushes against my lips. “Three.”

  In a twist of cruel and unusual punishment, I end up with Paul in three of my classes. Three. Out of seven. We even have the same lunch period. Nearly half my day is spent with the guy who broke up with me. Paul acts like it’s not a big deal, while I feel like a hot metal poker is slowly being twisted inside of me.

  Nora rubs my back as we stand at my locker. “Look on the bright side, this is the last trimester of school and then you’re done.”

  I groan and stand up straight. “Then I’m off to college. Probably with him.” I grab a book from my locker and jam it in my backpack. Nora is usually the dramatic one, but I’m doing a pretty good job of it right now.

  “It’ll get better, Ash.” Nora picks up a pen I drop. “Just give it time. Things will look better with each day that passes.”

  “Maybe.” I don’t feel better. If anything, I feel worse. I have no clue why Paul broke up with me, and it eats away at my emotions. I have my suspicions, but nothing has been verified.

  “Didn’t it get better with Dylan?” Nora asks.

  I bite back the tear threatening to leak out of the inside of my eye. “Paul asked me not to date Dylan. Today. He asked me today.”

  Nora stands still, my pen in her hand. Perhaps I’ve rendered her speechless, a rare feat. I take the pen from her still hand. “Does he know?” she asks.

  I shake my head and grab the pen from her. “Not that I know of.” Nora, Dylan, Sabrina, and I are the only ones aware of the bet. There isn’t any way Paul could know I have to go on a date with Dylan. “Do you think if I told him about the bet, things would be different now?” I have a feeling I’ll always wonder about this.

  Nora watches me shoulder my large backpack. “No,” she says, probably only to make me feel better. “I don’t think so. Who knows? It could have made things worse.”

  I never told Paul because I had a feeling it wouldn’t go over well. “What if I tell him now?”

  “If you’re hoping he’ll get back together with you to keep Dylan from dating you, maybe. But it could also go horribly wrong and he could get angry. He does have a problem with getting jealous.”

  I snatch my phone off the shelf in my locker and slam the door shut. An email notification sounds on the phone. I check it quick and gasp.

  “What is it?” Nora stands on her tiptoes to peer over my shoulder. I’m fairly short, but Nora’s a tad shorter than me.

  “I got…” I want to cry. This should be good news. With a trembling hand, I cover my face. “I’m being offered a full-ride scholarship to Eastern.”

  Nora grabs the phone out of my hand to look for herself. She bounces on her toes and the phone jiggles in her hand. “This is amazing! Congratulations!”

  I swallow hard. It should be amazing, but I don’t feel anything.

  Nora stuffs the phone in my bag and grabs my hand. “Come on. We need to celebrate.” She pulls me down the hallway. I don’t feel like celebrating. The break-up with Paul overshadows everything.

  I watch Nora. My best friend’s red curls bounce while we walk, and her lips shine with her favorite nude lip gloss. I messed things up with her last trimester. I made bad choices and kept things from her. Yet, she’s still here, walking hand in hand with me and comforting me in my misery.

  “Thanks,” I whisper. “For everything.”

  Nora squeezes my hand and smiles at me. “Let’s go make chocolate milkshakes at my house and you can cry.”

  Nora is the true definition of a best friend. She knows I’d rather cry than celebrate.

  Nora and I make milkshakes, and other than the yearlong English research paper, we don’t have any homework. I try not to cry much for Nora, but I can’t help the tears slipping from my eyes. I have an early dinner with Mom and Jacob, something we haven’t been able to enjoy for a while because either I was swimming, or Jacob was. They both tiptoe around the subject of Paul, wanting to mention him, but not quite sure how to do it. They know he broke up with me, but I won’t say much else. What is there to say? I don’t even know much. I teach at a new session of swim lessons at my school’s pool from six to eight in the evening. Focusing on the kids keeps me from thinking about Paul.

  It’s late now and I’m in bed when my phone pings. I grab the phone, filled with both dread and hope. I want the text to be from Paul.

  I swipe on my screen and look at the message.

  Aquaman: How was today?

  Aquaman. Nora gave Dylan the nickname at the beginning of the school year when I fake crushed o
n him for her benefit. I had no idea then, what a fake crush would turn into. Dylan resembles Aquaman with his chiseled muscles, dark curly hair, and turquoise eyes. Plus, Dylan is a swimmer, so it fits. It’s time for me to make a change. I swipe around on my phone and change Aquaman’s profile.

  I reply to Dylan’s text with a bunch of horrible looking face emojis. The vomiting one, the angry one, the eyes bawling one, and a few others.

  Dylan: That bad, huh?

  It seems strange to see Dylan’s name, rather than Aquaman on my phone.

  Dylan: Want to tell me about it?

  I exhale loudly.

  Me: You really want to hear about how I have new classes and I have three with HIM

  Dylan: Yes, if you want to tell me

  I sigh. It can’t be a good idea to tell an ex-boyfriend about the current ex-boyfriend. Though really, I’m not sure if Dylan is an ex-boyfriend. He fake dated me and I thought it was real. We’re friends now, and I should be able to tell a friend about an ex-boyfriend.

  Me: It’s long and ugly

  Dylan: You can come over and make me my cookies and tell me all about it

  Me: Cookies?

  Dylan: You owe me, I won our bet

  He hasn’t yet mentioned I need to pay up with a date, but he will. I know Dylan. He’s just waiting for the right time.

  Me: I’m on the approved list?

  Dylan’s been eternally grounded since I broke up with him, thanks to his manipulative little sister. He’s been enduring it like a good sport and impressing both his parents and me with how he’s changed. I’m on the short list of people his parents will let him see. I haven’t hung out with him alone in months.

  Dylan: When do you want to come over and make me cookies?

  I pause to think. Dylan lives four houses down from Paul. What would Paul think to see my car at Dylan’s? He may have said he doesn’t want me to go out with Dylan, but I’m allowed to hang out with friends. Paul has plenty of friends who are girls and he hung out alone with Bridgette and Tara while we were dating. Bridgette is even allowed in his room, while I wasn’t. I still can’t help thinking she’s a reason he broke up with me.

  Me: Friday? After work

  Dylan: I’m a lucky guy

  Me: Just have all the ingredients

  Dylan: Send them to me

  Me: Ok

  Dylan: He’s an idiot, he didn’t realize how lucky he was

  There’s another sting at the back of my nose and eyes. How is it I can cry so much over a guy? A stupid guy! I set the phone on the nightstand and roll to my side in a fetal position. I clutch the sheets in my hands and let the tears roll free. I’ve lost all my luck.

  SIX

  “You’ve made it a week!” Nora sounds upbeat Friday morning, trying to cheer my mood.

  “One week since he broke up with me?” I grumble. “Or one week of classes with him?”

  “Both.” Nora looks in my locker mirror and smacks the fresh lip gloss she applied a minute ago. “Isn’t it getting easier with every passing day?”

  “It’s his birthday today,” I whisper, and it gets lost in the sound of me slamming my locker. I planned something for Paul’s birthday, and in my typical unlucky fashion this year, my plans are not working out. This is the worst and unluckiest St. Patrick’s Day ever.

  “Oh.” Nora’s lips pucker. I guess she heard me. “Whatever.” She waves her hand and slips it between the crook of my arm. “It’s just another day.”

  My shoulders sag. It’s not just another day. It should have been a day I do something special for my boyfriend’s eighteenth birthday. “Are you and Nick doing something tonight?”

  “Yeah,” Nora replies. She looks at me and her lips twist. “Is that okay?”

  “It’s fine,” I say. “I’m planning to make cookies anyways.” There’s no way I’m telling Nora the cookies are for Dylan because he won our bet about her dating Nick. I’m glad she and Nick are still dating and have surpassed Nora’s three-week average. “It’s your one-month anniversary today, isn’t it?”

  “Yes!” Nora tries not to squeal, but she can’t help it. She has a bubbly personality and her curls dance with her bouncy step. She squeezes my arm. “I really like him.”

  I shake my arm. “I can tell. You don’t know your own strength when you talk about him.”

  “Sorry.” Nora releases her tight squeeze on my arm. “But if you need me, I’m here for you. I know it’s got to be a hard day for you.”

  “You already left one date for me. I’ll be fine,” I say.

  “Ash.” Nora narrows her eyes at me.

  “Honestly,” I say. “I’m fine.” At least until I have to see Paul again today.

  What is the protocol for wishing an ex-boyfriend a happy birthday? Am I supposed to give him the card and gift I had ready before he broke up with me? It doesn’t seem appropriate to give him the sappy card I picked out for him as his girlfriend. I swallow the nervous lump in my throat.

  “Happy birthday.” It’s a whisper. The words are difficult to push out, because each one hurts now that we’re no longer together.

  “Thanks.” Paul swivels on his physics lab stool and his knee bumps into mine. The jolt I feel from him touching me causes me to jump and I pull my knee away. Disappointment floods my body, because it would have been nice to leave my knee next to his. Paul tilts his head my way and looks into my hazel eyes. I match his gaze, looking into his blue eyes, and search for the answer he won’t give me. I swear there’s regret in his look, and his lips twitch. “Ash,” he says, his mouth barely moving.

  “Happy birthday, Paul!” Tara slams her bag on our lab bench.

  Paul jumps and his attention is diverted away from me. Whatever connection we held for a moment is severed by the queen of mean. One of the queens, because Bridgette also fits the definition.

  “It’s your birthday?” Taylor asks Paul as she takes a seat next to him. He nods and Taylor wishes him a happy birthday.

  Tara’s blonde hair drapes around her cheeks as she leans over the bench to see Paul around Taylor. “It’s been awhile since we were able to hang out. Are we still on for tonight?” Tara asks Paul. She glares at me. I’m the reason Paul stopped hanging out with Bridgette and Tara by himself.

  I pretend something on my phone has my attention, but I don’t miss Paul’s body twitching. He’s uncomfortable with Tara bringing this up. I’m not surprised she is, though I’m flabbergasted she hasn’t called me out by name. Taylor keeps giving me sympathy eyes behind Paul’s back. I really wish she and Paul could switch stools.

  “What’re you doing tonight, Ash?” Tara asks. She loves to grab the knife in my stomach and give it a twist any chance she can.

  I look up from my phone and coat my face in a look of disinterest. “Working and then I’m hanging out with a friend.” I conceal my phone and fire off a quick text.

  Me: Tara is the worst

  “Alright, class,” the physics teacher says. I shove my phone in my bag and turn my attention to the front of the classroom.

  There’s nothing like a lesson on the properties of sound to help amplify the vibrations stirring my soul. The memory of Paul’s words the night he broke up with me ripple through my brain.

  This isn’t working.

  How do I get things working again? I miss most of the science lesson because I’m stuck on figuring out how to make this work with Paul.

  Taylor walks out of class with me after the dismissal bell. “Are you hanging out with Nora tonight?” She pushes her long, straight hair over her shoulders.

  I shake my head. “She’s got a date. I’m meeting another friend.”

  “At your house?” I shake my head again. “Where at?” Taylor asks.

  What is with the interrogation from Taylor? “At his house,” I reply.

  “His?” Taylor’s eyeb
rows rise on her smooth forehead.

  “He’s just a friend,” I say.

  Taylor’s head swivels, looking around the crowded hallway before she leans into me. “It’s Dylan, isn’t it? Are you guys together? Is that why you and Paul broke up?”

  The gut clenching, heart pinching pain grabs me again. “Paul broke up with me. It had nothing to do with Dylan. We’re hanging out only as friends.”

  “Actually, this is perfect,” Taylor says. “Could you do me a huge favor?”

  SEVEN

  Dylan opens the door to his house on Friday night with a huge smile on his face. “Happy St. Patrick’s Day,” he says. He’s dressed in a green polo shirt and jeans. His dark curly hair is still damp from teaching swim lessons at Roseville High.

  “Hi,” I say, with no enthusiasm at all. My hair is wet, and I didn’t bother to comb it after teaching lessons. It’s in a damp, messy bun at the back of my head. I shed my coat and throw it at Dylan.

  “You’re not wearing green. Does that mean I get to pinch you?” he asks.

  Dylan drops my coat on a bench, and I look at my outfit. I’m wearing black leggings and an Eastern sweatshirt which is gray with red and black. I should have worn my Dragon Swimming sweatshirt, which has some green on it. “Maybe I’ve got some on underneath,” I say.

  Dylan wiggles his eyebrows. “Prove it to me.”

  I groan. “Don’t start. I’m not in the mood tonight.”

  Dylan’s trying to make me laugh, but I only want to wallow in my depression. “Tough cookie,” Dylan says. “I hope your real ones aren’t as hard.”

  I walk ahead of Dylan toward the kitchen and grunt. I’m not going to be much fun tonight.

  “Sorry I didn’t get your text about Tara sooner. What’d she do?” Dylan brushes up next to me in the hallway.

  “She’s rubbing everything in my face and gloating now that Paul and I aren’t together,” I say, and then remember something. “And hey, if anyone asks, we’re hanging out with Taylor tonight.”

  I walk into the kitchen lit up with nearly every light. Dylan has the ingredients I texted him on the massive granite topped island. Dylan’s house could swallow mine at least four times and still have room to spare. It’s strange to be here. I haven’t been alone with Dylan in a long time. We’ve been working out at the gym together, but that doesn’t count because we’re surrounded by other people.