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

by Chrissy Q Martin

  “I’m visiting with friends,” I say. “But we don’t live too far away.”

  “Have you ever been in here before?” Chase asks. “I think I’d remember you.”

  “No,” I say, doing my best to remain calm and not fall back to my usual mute self. “But I’ll make sure to stop by when I return.”

  Chase leans over the counter, a smile on his face, and hands me my ice cream cone. His fingers linger against my hand, in a way they usually wouldn’t with a customer. “What’s your name?” he asks.

  “Ashley.”

  I open my mouth to speak, but I’m not the one to give the answer. Both Chase and I turn to the door where a bell jangles after being hit by the open door.

  “Hey, Dylan,” Chase says.

  I roll my eyes. Dylan has such good timing and knows everyone.

  “Is this guy bothering you?” Dylan stands by my side and peers at the ice cream flavors behind the glass.

  “Quite the opposite,” I say and look back at Chase with what I hope is a flirty smile. For all I know, I could have spinach stuck in my teeth. “I’m Ash.”

  “You’re with Dylan?” Chase asks, his eyes going back and forth between Dylan and me. Chase’s look mimics the ones Dylan and I received when he fake dated me. The why is he with her look.

  “We’re friends,” I say, and Chase’s expression relaxes.

  “Ashley,” Dylan says and wraps an arm around my shoulder, “is my best girl friend.”

  I wrinkle my nose and take a bite of my ice cream. It sounds like he says girlfriend, when he should mean girl who is a friend. I wasn’t the one to initiate the touching, and I wiggle out of Dylan’s embrace.

  “How long are you here for?” Chase asks.

  “We’re leaving tomorrow,” Dylan says.

  “That’s too bad,” Chase says. A look of disappointment crosses his face, while a small excitement flutters in me.

  After Dylan orders a waffle cone, we head out of the small store to stroll and eat our dessert. We walk two by two down to the boat pier, like we’re headed to the ark. Taylor and Sabrina lead the way, with Nora and me in the middle, and the guys at the rear.

  “You were totally flirting with that guy!” Nora exclaims.

  “I wasn’t,” I say, a blush rushing to my cheeks. I totally was.

  “And he was way into you.”

  “Nuh uh.” My blush grows deeper.

  “He gave you an extra scoop of ice cream for free!” Nora declares.

  I look at the cone in my hand, it’s larger than everyone else’s.

  “Who was Ashley flirting with?” Dylan asks.

  Nora looks over her shoulder. “The guy at the ice cream store.”

  “Ashley was flirting with Chase?” Dylan sounds surprised.

  “I know, right?” Nora seems to be agreeing with Dylan’s amusement. “It’s like she’s got this new confidence. And where did she learn to flirt? The girl usually has no game.”

  “From me, of course,” Dylan says.

  I roll my eyes and turn to see Dylan sticking his chest out in pride. I snort in disgust. “Don’t go thinking you’re the only one I can flirt with,” I say. “But I guess I do have to give you credit, even if it inflates your already overgrown ego.”

  “Might as well learn from the best,” Dylan says and then shoots me his smoldering look. I respond to his look the way I usually do, with laughter.

  We end up at the boat pier after finishing our ice cream cones. We watch the sun set and the clouds glow in shades of pink and orange behind the largest island in the distance. The scene looks like a painting.

  “You were flirting with Chase?” Dylan nudges me with his elbow in my side.

  I playfully swat him away and roll my eyes. “I know. It’s not a big deal, whatever.” My mind usually sabotages me and tells me I’m not enough. There’s no reason anyone should pay attention to me. “It’s just, boys aren’t usually the ones to pay attention to me. They’ll talk to Taylor, Sabrina, or Nora over me. I’m the mute one who has nothing to say, but lately, I don’t know. It’s different.” Dylan laid himself bare yesterday, and it’s my turn today.

  “It’s because you’re more confident,” Dylan says. “Like Nora said.”

  I shrug my shoulders. Most of the time, I’m still insecure, but I guess my experiences have lent a new confidence to me. I can get through the storm. I may float back to the shore in pieces, but I can get through the turmoil.

  “It’s just, why all of a sudden are guys flirting with me? They never did before.”

  “You’re beautiful, Ashley. Inside and out. You always have been.” Dylan’s comment makes me blush. It’s still hard to hear someone say I’m beautiful and accept it. “And maybe guys notice now because you’re more confident.”

  A seagull flies overhead, looking for remnants of food. It squawks loud and soars with wings spread wide.

  “Thanks,” I say. “Even if you’re just saying that because you’re my friend.”

  “I think I might need to keep a better eye on you,” Dylan says, his voice teasing.

  “You want to make sure I’m flirting correctly?”

  “No,” Dylan answers. “To keep all the guys from flirting with you.”

  We stand next to the water and I give Dylan a playful push. “You want to go for a swim? I could push you in.”

  Dylan grabs my wrist. “You’d be going with me.”

  I really need to find him a girl to date.

  THIRTY-ONE

  Thursday afternoon Nick drives us from the cabin back to Dylan’s house. Reluctant to leave, we all hang out in the basement rec room together.

  Mrs. Arnold steps in. “Ash, can I talk to you for a minute?”

  I glance around. Everyone eats takeout and lounges. My eyes meet Dylan’s and he only gives me a small, forlorn smile. I raise my shoulders at him and wrinkle my nose. Does he know what this is about? Dylan only shovels a forkful of food in his mouth.

  “Sure,” I say. Dylan won’t look at me as I get up from my place.

  I follow Mrs. Arnold up the stairs, feeling like I’m in trouble. She leads me into the living room, where Andrea sits on the couch. This does mean trouble. Andrea stands, her face downcast, and not coated in her usual fake smile that resembles a sneer.

  “I’m sorry, Ash,” Andrea says. “For everything I did this year.” She glances at her mom briefly and Mrs. Arnold nods to encourage her. “Can you forgive me? Is there any way I can make this up to you?”

  “I…” This blindsides me and I blink. I have no idea what to say. My breathing is shallow, and my pulse feels rapid, but weak. This is shocking. “It’s okay,” I finally manage to say. Andrea’s eyes fill with tears and she lunges at me, wrapping me in a tight hug. Slowly, I raise my arms and weakly wrap them around her, returning the embrace. “I’m sorry,” I say.

  I’m awkward at accepting apologies and usually end up apologizing too.

  “I’ll make it up to you,” Andrea says with a sniff. She lets go of me and wipes her eyes with the sleeves of her shirt. Her comment reminds me of Dylan. She sounds like him, and I believe her.

  “I’m also sorry,” Mrs. Arnold says. “I would have stepped in sooner if I knew what was going on. I should have known what was happening, and I’m sorry.”

  I look at her and my lips twist. I don’t think she has a reason to apologize to me. “It’s fine,” I say. I stick my hands in my pockets and swallow hard.

  “You must think we’re a horrible family.” Mrs. Arnold looks near tears too.

  “Oh, no,” I say quickly. “Not at all. Dylan’s one of my best friends now. It all worked out.” I even manage a small grin in Andrea’s direction. She is the one who brought Dylan into my life.

  “I’m still sorry,” Mrs. Arnold says. “I don’t want to excuse my kids’ behavior because what they did
is wrong. I’m afraid I played a part in it because they were responding to a stressful situation. They reacted in the worst possible way, and unfortunately, you got caught in it and I’m so sorry.”

  “It’s fine,” I say. “It’s in the past. Things are good now.”

  Mrs. Arnold smiles and steps toward me. I get wrapped in another hug. “You are the sweetest. Especially if you can forgive my two horrible children.” Mrs. Arnold releases me and narrows her eyes at Andrea when she says, “horrible children,” but I see the gleam of a smile behind her eyes. It seems there’s more to Andrea than I know, just like Dylan.

  I give Sabrina a ride home from Dylan’s, which is perfect. Now I can ask her about my plan to get Dylan a girlfriend, or at least a date.

  “Nope.” Sabrina shakes her head vigorously after I ask her. “Not happening.”

  “Come on, please,” I whine. “You guys get along so well. You two had such a great time on your fake dates. Why won’t you try a real one with him?”

  “We fake dated to help you,” Sabrina says.

  “And you can real date to help me,” I say.

  Sabrina shakes her head again. “No.”

  “But you two get along so well.”

  “Ash!” I look where I’m driving, but I can feel the violent whip of air when Sabrina turns her head my way. “He’s not interested in me.”

  “But he could be.” I stop at an intersection and make a right turn.

  “We do get along,” Sabrina says. “But we wouldn’t be good as a couple. Our differences don’t complement each other, we’re too much alike. You two complement each other better.”

  “I’m not good enough for him. He’ll realize that and give up on me.” This conversation makes me uncomfortable. I’m comfortable being friends with Dylan, and I can’t surrender to the thought of anything beyond that. I won’t be swept into a tidal wave of drama again.

  “You know how stubborn he is,” Sabrina says.

  A frustrated noise leaves me. “That’s the thing. He needs to see there are better options out there for him. Someone who will let him do more stuff than I will.”

  “You’re kidding me, Ash!” Sabrina hits her legs with her palms and sounds exasperated. “You think finding a girl who will do more stuff…is what he wants?”

  I shrug. “Why not? He’ll realize what he’s missing.”

  “I don’t think he’s like that,” Sabrina says. “And if you haven’t figure that out yet, you’re delusional.”

  “He deserves to be happy.” I can sense Sabrina’s eyes boring into me. She’s quiet for so long I finally have to ask, “What?”

  “Do you even hear yourself?” Sabrina shakes her head. “Why don’t you just go out with him?”

  “No.” My head moves side to side forcefully. “We’re better as friends.”

  THIRTY-TWO

  It’s Friday and still spring break, and I have nothing better to do than look at my list of potential dates for Dylan. I cross Sabrina off. Great. My next options aren’t palatable. They’ll easily go for Dylan, but I don’t think they’re necessarily the best ones for him. They’re more of a distraction. If I’m really going to do this, I need a girl Dylan can fall for, and not just someone to keep him occupied. But for the time being, I’m going to have to go with keeping him distracted. Caitlyn and Tara are on the list, and I don’t like either of them. Caitlyn’s dated Dylan in the past and Dylan has no interest in Tara, but still…

  Wait.

  I stare at the list.

  This is not me. I’m resorting to something Tara or Bridgette would do. I’m trying to keep Dylan occupied and distracted while I figure out how to be friends with Paul. This is horrible. I can’t do this. I rip the paper out of the notebook, crumble it in my hand, and throw it at the dresser. It lands on top but bounces off and hits the floor. I’ve hit rock bottom with resorting to this. I flop back on my bed and pick up my phone. I could text Paul. We’re trying to be friends and we’ve texted before, but what do I say?

  Me: What’re you up to?

  I hold the phone over my head, staring at it, and waiting for it to notify me I have a response to my text. It doesn’t take long, and I smile.

  Dylan: Not much. U?

  Me: Wanna come over and hang out?

  Dylan: Be there in 20

  I hear Nora’s voice in my head reminding me to not string Dylan along. I’m sure he knows we’re friends. A friend like Dylan is what I need now, especially since my best friend is out with his best friend.

  I pull the spoon from my mouth, the taste of chocolate on my lips.

  “Do you feel like leftovers?” Dylan asks.

  “You want more ice cream?” I ask. We’ve made sundaes and sit on stools at the kitchen island.

  “No, I mean, with Nick and Nora. We’ve lost our best friends to each other and we’re just leftover.”

  I do a nod slash shrug thing. “I guess.” I now know how Nora felt when I was with Paul all the time. I can’t fault her for wanting to spend time with her boyfriend, and she does make an effort to spend time with me. She’s much better at it than I was. I feel bad for how I neglected her. I eat another bite of ice cream and slowly pull the spoon out of my mouth. When I look at Dylan, he’s watching me. I don’t back away from his eye contact.

  “At least I get the best substitute bestie out of it.” Dylan keeps his eyes on me.

  “Why didn’t you tell me about your mom having Lyme disease?” I ask. Mrs. Arnold explained to me why she was gone a lot during the swim season, and her children were unsupervised while she was sick.

  Dylan looks at his bowl of ice cream. “My parents weren’t telling anyone, and we didn’t either.” He shrugs. “I should have picked up Andrea was reacting to Mom being sick and gone, and should have told my parents, but I don’t know. I didn’t want to bother them. I did a lot of stuff wrong too.” Dylan smashes his ice cream with the back of his spoon. “We all dealt with it differently.”

  Mrs. Arnold traveled with her husband every weekend for treatment, which is why I never met Dylan’s parents while we were dating. “I’m sorry,” I say again. “You okay?”

  “Yeah.” Dylan nods. “She says she’s fine now and has a good prognosis.”

  “You know,” I say. “I’m here for you if you need to talk.”

  “Thanks.” The smallest of a smile turns up on Dylan’s face.

  “Why aren’t you out doing something?” I ask and scoop another spoonful of ice cream from my bowl. “How come you’re at home on a Friday night when you’re not grounded anymore?”

  Dylan’s large shoulders shrug in and he pushes a strand of curls out of his eyes. “Didn’t feel like it tonight,” he says. “And what about you?”

  I scrape my bowl with the spoon, trying to get up the last remnants of my ice cream. “I’m guessing if I tried to set you up on a blind date, you wouldn’t go for it.”

  Dylan straightens up. “I hope you’re kidding.”

  I wave my spoon at him. “Totally.” I pause. “Maybe. Now come on. You should be getting back out there. Especially since you won the bet.”

  “I don’t feel like dating right now,” Dylan says. He pushes his bowl away from him. “And what about you? Should I set you up on a blind date?”

  “Maybe we should set each other up on blind dates?” I pick up my bowl and stand. I grab Dylan’s and set the bowls in the sink.

  “That’s a…” Dylan pauses. I lean against the counter to await his answer. “I’m not sure if it’s a horrible idea or a brilliant one.” Dylan has a thoughtful look.

  “Really?” A small smile creeps up my face. “You wanna do it?”

  “You do know that means you’ll have to go out on a date? With someone other than Turner? Because I’m not picking him,” Dylan says.

  I bite my lip. It does mean I’ll have to go out on a date with some
one. Someone Dylan picks for me. I know he’s going to pick someone I won’t like or can’t stand. I shudder. This means I have to find the most perfect date for him.

  “Okay,” I say. “You wanna do it? Set each other up?”

  “Fine.” Dylan nods. “But it can’t be on the same night. You set me up on Friday night and I’ll set you up on Saturday.”

  “Why can’t it be the same time?” I ask.

  “It’ll just work out better and we won’t have to endure an awkward double date,” Dylan says. “The other person has to stay home. Deal?”

  “Deal.” It feels like we’ve made another bet, and I never win at our bets.

  THIRTY-THREE

  “Today,” Dylan announces like he’s the ringmaster at a circus, “we’re biking.”

  “I’m biking at Paul’s later,” I say with a slight whining tone.

  “Then this will be a good warm-up.” Dylan gestures to the stationary bike I should take next to him. “Are you going to come over for lunch again?”

  Dylan starts to adjust the saddle height of his bike. I watch what he does and try to repeat it. “We’ve seen each other nearly every day for a week. You have to be sick of me. Don’t you have anyone else to hang out with?”

  “I do,” Dylan announces. He does the thing where he turns one eyebrow up at me. “I have a date on Friday. Who’s the lucky person?”

  Who is the lucky person? It’s like I get to choose who’s going to get a million dollars. This is a big responsibility and not one I should take lightly. I clamber onto the bike and test the saddle height by spinning my legs around a few times. “I’ve got more on the no list, than I do on the actual yes list at this point,” I say.

  “You’re being picky?” Dylan climbs on his bike and looks over at me.

  “I can’t have you going out with any old person,” I say. “I do have some standards for you. Now let’s people watch while we bike, and you let me know if someone grabs your attention.”

  “I’m starting to think this is a really bad idea,” Dylan says, scanning the room.