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

by Chrissy Q Martin

  Everyone sits silent, like they’ve been busted. I’m not stupid. I may be heartbroken, I may be anxious about things, I may make dumb mistakes, but I’m quite aware of when people are talking about me. And trying to fix me.

  “Sorry, Ash,” Nora says. “But another date with Dylan can’t be all that bad.”

  “Whose side are you on?” I ask, on the verge of pushing Nora out. I was happy to see her, then I wasn’t, then I was, and now I’m not.

  “I’m not taking sides,” Nora says. “It’s just a date.”

  “Just a date,” I repeat, my voice rising. I normally hate confrontation, but Nora is my best friend, and I can become undone around her.

  “Whoa, okay,” Dylan says. He reaches his hands across the table, ready to separate us if I spring at Nora. I won’t, but my emotions are quite messed up right now, so maybe I would. “I’ve got an idea.”

  “What’s that?” I turn my attention to Dylan.

  “Like you said, it’s not a date. We’ll do an activity together.”

  I narrow my eyes at him. “You’re just changing the wording.”

  “No.” Dylan shakes his head. “It can just be as friends. You do the gym triathlon with me in about two months.”

  Huh. I didn’t expect this. I lean back into the bench seat. “What’s the catch?”

  “No catch,” Dylan says. “Nick and Nora can be our witnesses. We do the triathlon together and we’re even.”

  “A triathlon?” I repeat, mulling it over in my head. What’s his game here? He must have an ulterior motive behind this.

  “It’s at the gym. I’ve done it before. You swim a thousand yards in the pool, bike ten miles on a stationary bike, and run three miles on a treadmill. They combine all your times, and the fastest time wins. We’ve already been running and swimming, we’ll add in biking to train,” Dylan says.

  I don’t miss his use of “we.” We’ve been running and swimming together at the gym, as friends. “What if I get back together with Paul in the meantime?” I ask.

  Dylan’s jaw tightens, and he shrugs. “Whatever. You get back together with him. You still do the triathlon with me as a friend, no date. But…” Dylan pauses for effect, and I already know what’s coming. “If you’re not back together with him, we could always go on a date afterwards.”

  “I knew there was a catch,” I say.

  “Even if you’re still single,” Dylan says, “you don’t have to go out with me afterward. I’m just asking for the triathlon.”

  “What do you say, Ash?” Nora nudges me in the side again.

  I keep my focus on Dylan. “What if you’re dating someone?”

  “We still do the triathlon,” Dylan says. “Aren’t we friends?”

  “Fine.” My answer comes out in a puff of air.

  I can do a triathlon. I swim. I run. Now I just need to bike. How hard can it be? It’s on a stationary bike. I won’t even have to balance on two wheels.

  I sit in the passenger seat of Nora’s car, while she drives me home from the diner. My options for drivers were Dylan or Nora, and it was tough to choose because I’m not happy with either of them. My arms are crossed over my chest and I keep my eyes looking straight out the windshield. The events of the night replay over in my mind. Dylan’s conversation with Paul is currently on repeat in my overactive brain. I keep hearing, “We broke up.”

  Nora drives by our school and I bite my lower lip. It’s hard to avoid thinking about what we’re passing and the events from my past. This is the parking lot where Paul and I first kissed. I keep stewing over what Paul told Dylan. We didn’t break up. He broke up with me.

  “One question.” Nora’s voice invades the fog in my brain. She’s been quiet and letting me simmer in my misery.

  “Hmm,” I mumble.

  “Where’s your bra?”

  My lips pinch together in a line. Oh, my goodness. I’ve totally forgotten about the bra. The thought of Dylan’s face when I pulled the bra out from under my shirt shifts my mood, and a laugh bubbles out of me. I slap my hand over my mouth and snort.

  “What?” Nora gives me a side glance. “What happened to it?”

  My eyes roam over Nora’s glove compartment and I can’t help laughing. Earlier this evening, I couldn’t stop the tears from coming, and now I can’t keep the laughter from subsiding. It falls out of me, causing tears. It’s amazing how opposite emotions can both cause me to cry.

  Nora wrinkles her forehead and keeps her eyes on the road. “What’s going on, Ash?”

  When my laughter diminishes, I wipe my cheeks with the back of my hand and sniff. “It’s in his glove compartment.” Another giggle escapes.

  “It’s where?” Nora gives me a side eye glance. “Why?”

  “It was uncomfortable, so I took it off, and put it in his glove compartment.”

  Nora puffs air out of her pursed lips. “Really?”

  “No,” I say. “We got it on in his car and I let him take it off me.”

  “Really?” Nora’s eyebrows tower nearly to the red curls draping over her face. She sounds like she believes me.

  “No!” I exclaim. “We’re just friends. And I’m not like that.”

  Nora pulls into the left-hand turn lane and glances over at me when she’s stopped the car to wait. “It’s really in Dylan’s glove compartment?”

  “Yes.” My head wobbles back and forth. “I forgot about it.”

  “That’s a nice parting gift for him.” Nora smirks at me and I look away so she can’t see the blush arising in my cheeks. “Did you have fun tonight?” she asks while turning left after the light turns green.

  Again, my head wobbles back and forth, neither a nod nor shake. “I guess.”

  “Are you mad at me?”

  I continue with the head wobbling. “No,” I finally say. “It’s more I’m mad at myself, or rather indecisive. I want to be sad and I want to be happy, and I just feel lost. I hate not knowing why he broke up with me, and I hate burdening you with my feelings, which I can’t even decipher.”

  “I understand you’re hurt,” Nora says, “but I don’t want you missing out on things because of a stupid boy.”

  I grunt. “You sound like my mom.”

  “You just need to move on.”

  I roll my eyes. “Why do people always say that? What do I move on to?”

  “Just don’t keep the brakes on and stay stuck in the muck,” Nora says. “You shouldn’t be wallowing in the mud over a boy. Get back on the saddle and go for a ride around the block.”

  “Your metaphor motivation isn’t quite hitting the spot tonight, because going for a ride around the block isn’t quite what I want to do,” I say. A small grin emerges from the depths of me. Nora is the best at encouraging people, and I understand what she’s trying to do. “Isn’t going around the block not exactly how I should behave?”

  “You know what I mean,” Nora replies, a grin of her own on her face.

  “Okay,” I say. “But it’s not like I’m going to get on a bike and coast downhill with my hands up in the air. I’d crash.”

  FIFTEEN

  On Monday, I sit in calculus and twist my pencil in my hand. I don’t want to think, but my brain rages like a hurricane. It’s hard to understand anything going on in my life right now. I’ve run out of my own plans, and they’re being made for me. Dylan intends for me to do the triathlon with him, and I don’t know what other things are in store for my life. I’m sure something else will crash down, some plan I can’t see, and I’m at the point where I will accept anything.

  “Ash and Paul.”

  My head jerks up. What? I don’t say it out loud, though I want to yell it.

  What?!

  I turn my head and look at Paul. He offers up a small smile while my own jaw hits the desk. We’ve been named partners for a calculus project. A huge pa
rtner project that will take nearly the whole trimester.

  How are we even partners? We turned in a paper to our teacher listing three people we wouldn’t mind working with and two we didn’t want to have as partners. From the lists, the teacher put together the pairs of students. I swear I put Paul on the list of people I don’t want to be partnered with. I visualize the paper in my head. I must have put his name in the correct column, right?

  I stare ahead and pretend to listen to the rest of the partners being named, but all I want to do is drop my head to the desk and cry. I want to weep buckets and buckets of tears, but there’s nothing I can do.

  “Alright,” the teacher says. “Get together with your partner and brainstorm some ideas. You have two months.”

  Two months? Isn’t that similar to eternity when it’s with an ex-boyfriend?

  I’m wading through purgatory here. I’m stuck between good and bad memories of Paul. There are memories of being his girlfriend and memories of him breaking up with me. When I thought it was horrible to get three classes with Paul, I’m made partners with him. For two months. I should be excited to work with him. I can use this as my chance to win him back, but I’m not there yet. Maybe I’ll get to that point, but I’m still stuck in the mud, dwelling on the fact Paul broke up with me, for no reason. I haven’t gotten back on the saddle to take a cruise around the block, as Nora would put it.

  “Hey, Ash.” Paul stands over me. “So…ideas.”

  Oh. I have ideas. None that have anything to do with math.

  Paul takes a seat next to me and my brain continues to whirl in a multitude of directions. We’re supposed to use something in life, something we do, and show how mathematic principles are used in it. We must write a report and make a video presentation to show the class.

  “Swimming?” I say it softly. It’s seems like the obvious choice. We’re both swimmers, and swimming involves math. There’s the formula Coach uses in our puke sets, to the difference between using time or light for the start, to the angle of the starting blocks, and which lane is more advantageous to be in.

  “Since we’re done with swimming, I thought we could do something different,” Paul says.

  I cock my head. I almost thought he said, “Since we’re done.” I keep my eyes on my hands. Swimming is something Paul and I have in common and sharing an interest brings people together. I guess he doesn’t want that. I guess we are done.

  “Like what?” I ask softly.

  “How about biking?”

  I scrunch my face up. “Biking?”

  “Bicycling,” Paul clarifies. “There’s lots we can do from geometries of different frames, to different wheel sizes, and comparing different types of bikes.”

  I know nothing about biking, other than I know how to ride a bike and I’ll be using a stationary bike in the triathlon. “I guess,” I say. I’m horrible. I’m back to being what I was before Paul and I dated. Quiet, shy, and not giving my opinion. Not that I have an opinion, other than Paul shouldn’t have broken up with me.

  “Great,” Paul says. “This should be fun.”

  Really? Did he just say fun? This is going to be fun? Did he put me down on his list as someone he wants to work with? I’m sure I listed him as someone I don’t want to be partnered with. If I weren’t so concerned about keeping my place in the class standings, I’d skip this project and take a low grade in the class, but I’ve already lost my valedictorian spot and I’m not going to drop further. I’ll put on the brave face and do this project with Paul. The only good thing is he knows how hard I work and how important my grades are to me. He hopefully won’t be a partner who shirks on the job.

  “What do you know about bikes?” Paul asks.

  You’d think we’d know each other better, since we dated nearly four months, but I guess not. “I know how to ride one,” I say.

  “Okay,” Paul says. I hope he decides to change his mind to swimming. “I’ll bring in some magazines tomorrow for you to look at. I have some ideas on what we can do, but we’ll see if anything looks interesting to you.”

  “Great,” I say without any enthusiasm. Yeah, great. My ex-boyfriend is giving me homework. Next, he’ll be telling me how to get back on the saddle.

  “Saturday!” Nora slams her book shut and I jump. “What’re we doing?”

  I look up from my laptop. Nora and I are draped across her bed after school. Our second trimester grades were posted a few minutes ago. I had to check mine the moment they went up, and they’re exactly as I expect. I have straight A’s, but the B minus from first trimester has destroyed my GPA and class standing. There’s no use in crying over something I’ve already cried about and can’t change. The same can’t be said for my situation with Paul. I’m still crying and hoping it’ll change.

  “Aren’t you going out with Nick?” I’ve gotten used to Nora doing things with him and not me. She still makes time for me, and I get how she felt when I was seeing Paul all the time.

  “Not Saturday!” Nora smacks her book against my shoulder. “It’s your birthday.”

  I close my laptop. I’ve nearly forgotten. Time has a way of smearing into an abstract painting like the one on Nora’s wall. It’s a kaleidoscope of pink, teal, yellow, orange, and blue. “Maybe I’ll just skip it this year.”

  “Ash!” Nora looks at me like I’m crazy. “You’re going to be eighteen. We have to celebrate.”

  I sigh. I’ve been letting out long, deep breaths lately, hoping my sadness lessens with each one. I don’t think it’s working or it’s going to take a million sighs. “I only want to do something with you,” I say. “No party.”

  “Okay.” Nora bounces on the bed, her infectious Tigger attitude springing out. “You’ll come over and I’ll plan everything. We can get food, watch a movie, have cake, go…”

  “No party,” I say when Nora takes a breath.

  “Okay.” Nora swipes on her phone, and I’m sure she’s not paying attention to me.

  “Nora,” I repeat. “I mean it, no party.”

  She swishes a hand at me, her focus still on her phone. “I heard you. No party. Hey, did you know prom is in two months?”

  “Gee, really?” I say sarcastically. “I don’t get why everyone is so excited about it. It’s still two months away.” Today the senior prom committee released the theme for this year’s prom. There was this huge to-do with a loudspeaker announcement, posters hung around the school, and a massive banner in the front entrance. Every single student in the school couldn’t miss this year’s theme is A Night to Remember. It’s a good thing I’m not on the committee, because my list of theme suggestions wouldn’t fly.

  “It can take some time to find the right dress, shoes, and for some, a date.” Nora bites her lip and steals a glance at me.

  “You found my homecoming dress, without me, in less than an hour,” I remind Nora, but the memory of my homecoming dress plunges my mood down again. I went to homecoming with Paul, and it doesn’t look like I’ll be going to prom with him, like I planned.

  “I guess some people like to plan early,” Nora says.

  A frown coats my face, and Nora realizes my lack of joy is from my inability to succeed in my plans.

  “Sorry,” she says. “One step at a time. We’ll plan on Saturday.”

  Nora puts up with my widely swinging moods and I appreciate what she’s doing for me. I can return the favor and enjoy my birthday with her. “You plan the evening. I’m done with plans. You can do something with Nick in the morning. Dylan has me meeting him at the gym to start training for the triathlon.”

  Nora’s eyes flick my way in surprise before she returns her attention to her phone. “That’s nice,” she says in a calm voice, but I don’t miss her excited bounce on the bed. “I bet you guys swim.”

  “I’m done with bets.”

  SIXTEEN

  I make it another week, and I
’m not sure it’s getting any easier. Paul broke up with me three weeks ago. I know this heartbreak won’t last, but it seems it will. My heart is split into pieces, and I feel like it’s failed me. After Dylan, I had Paul to mend it, and now, I have nothing, no promise of healing.

  I tap my pencil against the lined paper of my notebook. Our teacher has given us the entire Friday class hour to brainstorm ideas and research for our calculus project. I wish we had something else to do. Partners sit together, and Paul’s next to me at my table. I keep my eyes on the paper, and the edge of my eraser bounces up and down on it, mimicking the movement of my leg under the table. Paul says something in his soft voice, and I don’t hear him.

  I tilt my head his way. “What’d you say?”

  Paul blinks. His blue eyes focus on mine. “Happy birthday. It’s tomorrow, isn’t it?”

  When I didn’t think my heart can break anymore, it shatters like tempered glass. I’ll be eighteen tomorrow and I should be celebrating it with Paul. Instead, I’ll quietly hang out with Nora, eat jellybeans, and watch movies. I’d rather cry buckets of tears into my pillow, but I’ve been doing enough of that lately. I’ve got to try to be the bigger person once in a while, even if I don’t feel like it.

  “Thanks,” I whisper. “So, for the project. What types of bikes are we going to test?”

  “I have something for you.” Paul reaches into his backpack and my split heart beats in a funny rhythm. He’s already given me the bicycle magazines for this project, which lie in the backseat of my car, untouched. I’m hopeful he has something else for me, but I’m scared of what it means. Why is he giving me something? “Here.” Paul places a small clear container on the table. Nestled in the container is my favorite donut. I stare at the chocolate donut coated with chocolate frosting and sugary coconut. I’m not sure if it should be mending my heart or driving the wedge in it further apart. Why is he giving me this? It makes every breath I take harder to breathe.

  “Thank you,” I finally manage to say in my weakness. I leave the donut where Paul set it and it reminds me of homecoming. Rather than flowers, Paul always gave me donuts, and the sweet circle of cake is a reminder of my broken and bruised heart. It lies still in the clear plastic container, like a viewing for something that has died. It’s a coffin for our relationship. I don’t think I have the stomach to eat it.