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

by Chrissy Q Martin

  Taylor’s entire body sags with her happy sigh. “Wonderful.”

  I can’t help but smile at her, she seems delighted. “Are you going out with him again?” I ask.

  Taylor looks around. “Please tell me you’re seeing Dylan or Nora again sometime?”

  “Actually…” I spot two cookies in my lunch leftover from baking with Dylan. He sent me home with some and the bags of chocolate chips. “We’re going out on Saturday.”

  “Fantastic!” Taylor’s eyes are bright. “Maybe we can continue helping each other.”

  “If it keeps Tara off my back, I’ve got yours,” I say. Taylor and I watched out for each other during swim season when Tara tried to take away our swim team captain titles.

  “Can you just fill me in on what you do with Dylan? I can tell my mom and give Tara any details she may need to satisfy her curiosity. She’s still got a thing for Dylan, you know?”

  “Yes.” I know. Tara wasn’t happy when she found Dylan and me kissing under the stairwell months ago. What a mess. Dylan was fake dating me, I thought we were secretly dating for real, and then Tara caught us kissing and blew apart my undercover dating plan.

  “Do you know what you’re doing Saturday?” Taylor asks.

  I chew my sandwich and think. Dylan never mentioned what we’re doing, and my only guess is he’s going to surprise me. It’s something he likes to do. “Can I get back to you on that?”

  “Sure,” Taylor nods. “We’ll coordinate.”

  “Are you hanging low on your dates, so you’re not caught out in public with him?” I ask. We don’t need to get caught in a lie and make this worse than it already sounds. “And who is he?”

  “Yeah, yeah.” Taylor pushes her fork around her bowl of food. “We’re making sure we’re not seen anywhere. I’ll just keep him to myself for now if you don’t mind. It’s one less thing for you to worry about spilling.”

  I smile at Taylor. She knows me well. “Okay,” I say. “You can tell me when you’re ready.”

  “Incoming.” Taylor points her fork and I follow the direction. Paul sits on the opposite side of the lunchroom, but now he’s walking our way. Watching him, my emotions are in a jumble. It’s hard to decipher if I’m nervous or excited.

  “Hey,” Paul says when he approaches the table. My heart drops with the missing “you” from his greeting. It was the way he greeted me, and it made me feel special, like I was the only one he had eyes for.

  “Hey,” Taylor says.

  I only nod my head in greeting. Paul, after all, is my ex-boyfriend. He only broke up with me nine days ago.

  “I’m sorry about Tara,” Paul says. He is quite the standup guy to apologize for his friend, though she really should be the one doing it. “She tends to overreact and say things without thinking.”

  “Don’t we know it,” Taylor says.

  Paul bites his lip and twists his hands. I can tell he’s nervous. He sits in a chair next to Taylor and across from me. “I think I know a way to get her off your backs.”

  I raise my eyebrows because he has my interest. I wish he would have mentioned this to me months ago. Why is he mentioning this now?

  “What’s that?” Taylor asks. I’m happy to let her continue with the talking.

  I break off a piece of one of the cookies from Friday. I’m surprised I didn’t eat it before now, except I happened to leave the container on the counter and Mom moved it. The cookie is still delicious, and I can’t get over how smooth the chocolate pieces are. Paul glances at the cookie. I’ve made him cookies before, though nowhere near as good as these ones.

  “Is Sabrina still seeing, um, Dylan?” Paul asks. He manages to spit Dylan’s name out this time.

  “Um…” What do I say? I guess the truth is a place to start. “No, I don’t think so,” I finally say, thankful I no longer have to deceive him, but curious how Paul will react. He doesn’t want me going out with Dylan.

  “Good,” Paul says. “Maybe you two can convince him to ask Tara out?” I nearly spit my cookie out and cover my mouth. Taylor lets loose with a loud snort. “It’s not that crazy of an idea,” Paul says in his soft voice.

  Taylor laughs. “But it is. She threw herself at him during the beginning of the year and didn’t get far. Why does she think it would work now?”

  Paul avoids looking at me and keeps his eyes on Taylor. “That was months ago, and things change. You can convince him to ask her out.”

  “I don’t think we can convince Dylan to do that,” I say. I do want Dylan to start dating someone, because it’s been months with our bet, but I’m sure Tara is not the best choice.

  “I think you can persuade him.” Paul looks at me. “Doesn’t he owe you?” His eyes open wide and bore into me.

  I can’t believe Paul is bringing this up now. He knows the secret of why Dylan dated me in the first place. I shove the rest of the cookie in my mouth and look to Taylor. She picks up the slack.

  “How is Tara dating Dylan going to get her off our backs?” Taylor asks.

  “Tara’s crushed on him forever,” Paul says. “She’ll do anything to go out with him.”

  “Don’t we know that,” I mumble.

  “She’d be so happy, I’m sure she’d leave you two alone. Plus, if you’re friends with him, she’ll want to stay on your good side,” Paul says.

  “That’s fairly good logic,” Taylor says and points a finger. “Except, why isn’t she trying to get on our good side now if she knows we’re friends with Dylan?”

  Paul’s head bobbles. “I think she just figured out today how good of friends you all are.” I keep my face on my food, but through my eyelashes I see Paul look at me. I think he’s realizing how good of friends Dylan and I are. I recognize how good of friends he is with Bridgette and Tara. “Maybe she’ll calm down, but it can’t hurt to ask him if he’d go out with her.”

  “Okay,” I say. “Fine. We’ll do it. It can’t hurt to at least ask.”

  Taylor looks at me like I’m crazy, but Paul’s lips turn up at the corners. His smile, it gets me. He’s a rare smile giver, and he often did it for me, so this slight upturning of his lips has set every nerve in me on fire. I want him to smile more, and I want to be the reason for him smiling.

  “Thanks, Ash,” Paul says. In his eyes, I see the smile I’m dreaming of. And maybe, maybe someday, he’ll give me that smile again.

  A text comes in as I lie in bed at night.

  Dylan: Make it through the day?

  Me: You’ll never guess what happened!

  Dylan: Back together?

  It’s so hard to decipher emotions in a text. I guess my exclamation point would make it seem like we are. I would be ecstatic if Paul and I were back together, and that would call for more than one exclamation point. The thought it isn’t reality makes me curl up into the fetal position.

  Me: No. He asked if you would ask Tara out

  Dylan: Wow

  Me: I know

  Dylan: He’s that desperate to keep me away from you

  Me: haha

  I wait a few minutes and there’s not another text from Dylan, which is unusual. I swipe my finger across the phone.

  Me: Would you ask her out?

  Dylan: haha

  Well, I tried.

  NINE

  I’m tired of trying to act like everything is okay, it takes so much effort. Is it ever going to get easier? It’s been two weeks since Paul broke up with me, and I can’t see how it will get brighter.

  “What’re you doing this weekend?” Paul asks while we wait for physics to start.

  Are we to the point where we can make small talk about our weekends? Because I really don’t want to know what he’s doing this weekend. I don’t want to hear if he’s hanging out with Tara or Bridgette. I don’t want to hear if he has a date. Like me.

  “I have a
…” I can’t say it. I want to rub it in his face I have a date, but I also don’t want him to think I’ve gotten over him. I’m seriously messed up. I can’t win either way. He really doesn’t want to hear I have a date with Dylan, even if we’re only going out as friends. “I have a thing I’m doing,” I say.

  “With me, right?” Taylor pops up next to me, her timing impeccable.

  “Yes,” I say with a quick grateful look at Taylor and then turn to Paul. “Taylor and I are doing something together Saturday night.” I should turn the conversation back to Paul and ask what he’s doing, but I can’t. Why does it still hurt so much?

  After work I head to Nora’s where I’m staying the night. She’s forgoing her Friday night with Nick to hang out with her pathetic best friend. I sit on top of the white duvet on her bed and check my texts while Nora rifles through her closet.

  Taylor: What are we doing tomorrow?

  Me: Dylan’s surprising us

  Taylor: A date?

  Me: We’re all friends here

  Taylor: Keep me in the loop

  Me: OK

  I set the phone down. Covering for Taylor keeps my mind off other things.

  “Alright,” Nora says, eyeing me. “I’m thinking something different than normal. Something not you.” She’s trying to choose an outfit for me to wear out with Dylan. I refuse to call it a date because we are most definitely not dating.

  “That really narrows down the options, doesn’t it?” I say sarcastically. I’m very predictable in what I wear and very picky in what I won’t wear. I usually wear jeans and some sort of t-shirt, along with a pair of Converse shoes. There’s a whole lot of stuff I don’t wear.

  “You trust me, right?”

  My head bops. “I guess.” Nora has a serious sense of style. She constantly dresses in fun and trendy outfits. I don’t always give her leeway to dress me. I let her pick out my homecoming dress, and she surprised me by finding a dress I love, and I hate dresses. I even wore the dress to a fancy party at Paul’s on New Year’s Eve. On second thought, I need to burn that dress.

  “Okay, don’t judge the outfit at first glance. You just need to try it on and let me do some alterations.”

  I drop to my back on the bed. “You know, I don’t care. You can have free reign to do whatever. I’m your canvas. Do my clothes, my makeup, my hair. I really don’t care.”

  Nora glares at me. “You’re going to put some effort into this date, aren’t you?”

  “It’s not a date.” I cover my eyes with my hands. “I’m going, aren’t I? That’s as much effort as he’s going to get. And I’m letting you dress me. He can thank you later.”

  “Okay.” Nora doesn’t sound sure. I don’t blame her. I’m pretty cranky right now. Nothing, absolutely nothing has gone according to plan this year. Why do I even bother to plan? At least Dylan is planning our outing.

  Nora rummages through her closet. We’re close to the same height, but not the same size. She’s curvy in all the right ways, and I’m not. I have huge shoulders, which makes it hard to fit into anything fitted on top, plus tiny boobs, which is why I always stick to sports bras and t-shirts.

  “You’re wearing a real bra,” Nora says. It’s like she can read my mind.

  I make a whining noise. “They’re so uncomfortable.”

  “You said I could do anything,” Nora reminds me. “You’re wearing a real bra.”

  I groan. “Fine.”

  “Do you even have one?”

  “Eh.” I tilt my head side to side. “Maybe. Somewhere.” Buried deep, deep in my drawer.

  “And matching underwear.”

  “Nora!” I exclaim. “It’s not like he’s going to see it. He never saw my underwear before. And this is only an outing. With a friend.”

  “I’m your friend,” Nora says with a smirk. “And I’ve seen your underwear.”

  I throw a pillow at Nora and she dodges it. She holds out a black sweater on a hanger.

  “Matches my mood,” I say.

  “You can still wear something nice underneath,” Nora says. “It’ll make you feel pretty and more confident.”

  I cover my head with one of her extra throw pillows. “I thought you were my best friend. Don’t you even know me?” I rarely feel pretty, and my confidence is easily shattered.

  “Yes,” Nora says. She throws the sweater on the bed and I hear hangers rifling in the closet. “That’s why we’re changing you up.”

  “This is already a nightmare.” My voice is muffled under the pillow. “Why not make it a bigger one?”

  TEN

  Nora and I stay up late, eat jellybeans, and watch funny movies. I refuse to watch a romcom, and we resort to some old classics. We sleep in late on Saturday morning and Mrs. Walsh makes her famous pancakes for brunch. Now it’s late afternoon and we’re in the bathroom I share with Jacob.

  “Is it supposed to take this long to get ready?” I swear it’s been at least an hour. Nora is doing her best to tame my frizzy brown waves with a curling iron. She has naturally curly coils, and there’s no way my hair is going to look like hers.

  “Did you ever get ready for a date with him before?” Nora asks.

  I’m not quite sure who she’s talking about. I want to think Paul, but I’m guessing it’s Dylan. Though really, I never did much to get ready for either of them. They got what they saw, nothing special. I mean, both met me on the swim team when I was in a wet swimsuit, my hair was covered in a cap, and my eyes had deep red goggle marks.

  “I never did much,” I say. “Homecoming and New Year’s Eve were the most, and then I didn’t do anything. Mom helped me get ready.”

  “Well, then…” Nora fluffs my hair with her fingers. “Dylan deserves a date with you getting ready.”

  “He doesn’t deserve a date. He won it,” I say. “From a bet I should have never made. And it’s not a date.”

  “You can keep saying that,” she says, looking at me through the mirror.

  “Cause it’s the truth.” I look at her in the mirror and stick my tongue out. “We’re friends, shoved together because our best friends are dating.”

  “No, your best friends are together because you two are friends.” Nora continues working on my hair, like she’s coaxing clay to become a pot. She’s already done my makeup. I’m not sure who the reflection in the mirror is because it doesn’t look like me. “Alright.” Nora comes at me one more time and moves a few pieces of hair. “I think I’m done.”

  “You think?” I shove around the stupid bra on my chest with my hands.

  “You look great,” Nora says. “I think Dylan will appreciate it.”

  “What is with the amount of padding on this bra?” I push a finger into the foam on the front of my chest. “Do you wear this much padding?”

  Nora has a decent bra size, while mine is tiny. “Yes, sometimes,” Nora says.

  “Why?” I ask. “I mean, I can see why it might be appealing to pretend you have bigger boobs. But they don’t feel real.” I squeeze the foam again.

  Nora laughs. “Look at it this way. If a guy tries to feel you up through your bra, he’s just going to get a handful of foam.”

  “It’s a boob protection system?” I’m not going to let anyone feel me up. Though, something could ram into my chest and I might not feel it through all the padding. “And what if it rains, do they absorb water?”

  Nora starts to giggle, and the sound of her laugh is contagious. Nora keeps giggling and I can’t help myself. Her laugh makes me laugh. I wave my hands at my eyes. “I’m going to cry now and wreck the makeup you worked so hard on.”

  “No, don’t do that.” Nora takes a deep breath to try and help her giggles subside. “Okay, I’ve got to get home and get ready for my date.”

  “What are you and Nick doing tonight?” I ask.

  “Just going out,”
Nora replies. It’s a very vague answer for her.

  “How’s it going, girls?” Mom sticks her head in the door. She must have heard the giggling fit. Then she lays eyes on me. “Wow.”

  “Who knew she could look like this, right?” Nora’s smile can’t get any wider over her handy work on me.

  “I’m not sure I should let Ash out of the house. What are you doing again?” Mom asks.

  “She’s got a date with Dylan,” Nora answers.

  “It’s not a date!” I practically shout it.

  “Back to Dylan?” Mom’s forehead crinkles when she lifts her eyebrows. “At least you’re getting out again.”

  “Out again!” I exclaim. “You make it sound like I’ve been shut up in the house. I went over to Dylan’s house the other night.”

  “You did what?” Nora asks while Mom gives me a questioning look, her forehead still in wrinkles.

  “We just made cookies. I owed him from another bet.”

  “What bet?” Mom and Nora ask at the same time. Whoops. They don’t know about my Nora chocolate chip cookie bet.

  “Nothing. Whatever. It doesn’t matter. I owe him a date,” I say with a swish of my hands.

  “You owe Dylan a date?” Mom asks. Whoops again. She doesn’t know about any of the bets.

  “It’s not a date,” I say. “We’re just going out as friends.”

  “Why do you owe him?” Mom asks. She has her hands on her hips. I know it doesn’t sound good, that I owe Dylan a date.

  Nora’s bottom lip twists and she glances at me, waiting to see if I’ll tell Mom about the bet.

  “It’s a pity date,” I say. “I once told him I’d go out with him if Paul and I broke up.”

  “See if you can rekindle the old flame?” Mom smiles. She’s joking, I think. I hope she’s joking.

  “There’s nothing left to rekindle,” I say.

  “There’s at least one Ash left and it’s pretty hot,” Mom says, grinning stupidly.

  I roll my eyes. “Worst mom joke ever,” I say while Nora laughs.

  “You might start something new looking like that,” Mom says. “If I didn’t trust Dylan, I wouldn’t let you go out.”