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

by Chrissy Q Martin

  “It wasn’t your idea.” I narrow my eyes at him. “It was mine, which means it’s brilliant.”

  “Look who has the ego now,” Dylan says.

  “I thought you’re proud of the fact you’re rubbing off on me.” I turn my head and smirk at Dylan. Cycling on the stationary bike is much easier than running on the treadmill. I lift my hands off the handlebars and wave them in the air. “Look, no hands!”

  Dylan chuckles. “Just don’t crash.”

  After lunch and video games with Dylan, I head to Paul’s.

  I stare at the bikes in Paul’s enormous four car garage. A whole stall is filled with bicycles and it looks like a bike shop.

  “Why do you have so many?” I ask.

  “My dad likes to bike and tries to get us all to do it with him.” Paul shrugs his shoulders, like it’s no big deal he has a bike shop in his garage. I could probably pay for quite a bit of college with these bikes. There are all different kinds, in a variety of sizes. I recognize the ones with wider tires as mountain bikes and the ones with skinny tires as road bikes. There’s also a tandem and a bike with three wheels slung low to the ground.

  “How many bikes are we testing today?” I ask.

  “We’ll start with the mountain bike and road bike today,” Paul says. “We can do the others if we have time another day.”

  “Okay,” I say. “I guess I time, while you ride the course.” Paul’s plotted a short route through his neighborhood with a good mix of flat and short hills.

  Paul hands me a helmet. “No, you’re going to do it too. My mom’s bikes should fit you. We need more data.”

  I clutch the helmet in my hand. “You sure you need me to bike?”

  “It’ll be a better comparison and more data if we both do it,” Paul says. He straps his helmet on while I watch. “I’ll help you get set up on a bike.”

  “Okay.” I stare at the helmet in my hands and take a deep breath.

  “You know how to bike, don’t you?” Paul asks.

  I jerk my head up to see Paul in front of me. He takes the helmet from my hands. “Oh, of course,” I say. “I’m doing the triathlon at the gym in a few weeks.”

  A small laugh emerges from Paul. It pierces me. I haven’t heard that sound in so long. It digs deep into the wall I’ve been trying to build around my heart. It’s the wall to protect me from getting hurt again, and Paul is able to pierce it with a small laugh. I’ll take this as a sign we’re progressing on being friends.

  “You ride a stationary bike in that triathlon. You don’t even need a helmet,” Paul says.

  A breath of air escapes me. It’s half a laugh and half embarrassment. “Right,” I say.

  Paul smiles, another pierce to my wall, and he lifts his hands with the helmet to put it on my head. “Do you have a partner for the triathlon?”

  My audible breath is covered with the click of the buckle as Paul snaps the helmet clasp under my chin. “A partner?” I lift my eyes to Paul’s. His fingers linger on the buckle and my chin.

  “Oh.” Paul moves his fingers along my jawline and starts to fiddle with tightening the straps. “You can have a duo. The team with the fastest combined time wins.”

  “I didn’t know that.” It’s hard to focus when Paul stands right next to me. His fingers brush my skin while he tightens the straps to fit me properly.

  “They have a coed division.” Paul gently wiggles the helmet on my head, checking to see if it’s fit properly. “I bet we could win if we’re on a team together.”

  My heart pulses and pushes against my chest. We could be a team. A team.

  I swallow hard and place my hands on either side of the helmet, giving it a wiggle. “Thanks,” I say, willing my heart to stop beating like I’m already biking. “It fits great.” Paul’s eyes are on me. He waits for an answer, but I can’t agree to be on a team with him. As much as I want to be with Paul, I owe Dylan. “What bike do I ride?” I ask.

  Paul’s face drops. “Well…” He pivots fast, brushing aside what he just said about being a team and diminishing whatever tiny spark ignited between us. “Let’s get you set up on the mountain bike first.” He’s away from me, before I can even reach out to him.

  We work as math partners, not as friends, while we test the bikes and record data. Our interactions seem colder than the cool spring air. We still need to bridge the gap and I can’t jump it with a bike.

  I haven’t ridden a bicycle in a long time, and it comes back to me quickly. It’s a freeing activity and makes me feel like a kid again. As Paul and I bike, I understand why life is compared to hills. It’s work cycling uphill, and not easy, especially on the steep inclines. The downhills are easier, and on the ones with less of a gradient, I don’t even have to brake. I’m able to coast and enjoy the ride down. I’ve endured enough steep uphills, and tight-fisted braking downhills this school year, and I’m ready for the smooth one I can coast down.

  The sun finally starts to peek through the clouds when we finish. Paul hands me a bottle of water and sits on the concrete of the driveway next to me.

  “Have you thought about going to prom?” he asks.

  “No.” The answer is quick, and I twist the cap off my bottle with force. “I don’t think I’ll go.”

  We drink from our bottles to fill the awkward silence.

  “What about you?” I ask.

  Paul bends his knees and rests his arms on top. He tilts his chin toward me. “I’m not sure. Maybe I’ll go with a friend.”

  I tilt my chin his way. “A friend?”

  “A friend,” Paul repeats. A sly smile edges up on Paul’s lips and I know he’s referring to me as the friend, not Bridgette. “You’re doing the gym triathlon?”

  I take a drink and nod. “Are you?”

  “Yep.” He twists the cap on his bottle and his fingers dance anxiously. “I’ve done it for years. If you want a partner, I’ll gladly be yours.”

  “Thanks,” I say, looking down the driveway. “If I do, I’ll let you know.”

  Out on the road, Dylan runs by the end of Paul’s driveway. I bite my lip, not quite sure if I’m irritated or pleased. Dylan’s checking up on me. He waves, and I lift my hand. Paul remains still.

  “Did you have a good spring break?” Paul jerks his chin in Dylan’s direction.

  “Yes,” I say, not wanting to go into detail. “What about you?” I sound like a parrot, asking the same thing again.

  “It was okay,” Paul replies. “Not what I planned.”

  I need to change the subject. “Are we going to get together again next weekend?” My hand rests on the concrete and Paul’s edges up next to it. His pinky finger brushes mine and sends a current through me. “I mean, to work on our project?” I wrap my arms around my bent knees, hoping to conceal the fluttering heart in my chest.

  “I can’t meet next Saturday,” Paul says. “Tim has a bowling tournament for the Special Olympics.”

  “Tell him good luck for me,” I say. It’s perfect we can’t meet because I’m supposed to go on a blind date next Saturday.

  “Maybe the following weekend we can ride the tandem together?” Paul looks over his shoulder at the bikes in the garage and I follow his gaze. A blue road bike tandem hangs upside down from the rafters.

  “Have you ever driven it?” I ask. I know I won’t be driving it and I’m not sure how I feel about giving up control of a bike to someone other than myself.

  “I ride it with Tim,” Paul says.

  I take a drink of water. My eyes return to the road and I wonder if Dylan will run by again.

  “Can I trust you to drive a tandem with me?” I ask. I’ve become more confident asking things I’d usually keep shut up in me. Paul will be doing all the steering and braking, and the thought of having no control frightens me.

  “You can trust me,” Paul says in his quiet voice.
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  My heart is still heavy, yet I choose to keep moving on, and I push the next sentence out. “Then tell me why you broke up with me.”

  “It’s complicated,” Paul says again, which is code for he doesn’t want to tell me the truth. “Why don’t you tell me why you’re friends with him after what he did to you?”

  “I’m trying to be friends with you after you broke up with me,” I say. “It’s the same.”

  “I don’t think so,” Paul says. “He wasn’t really dating you.”

  I flinch at his comment, and it rubs me the wrong way. “Maybe not,” I say, and tilt my head in Paul’s direction. “But Dylan’s been honest with me about everything. He told me about being best friends with you, about what happened after middle school, and took responsibility for what happened when we dated. There’s more to it than you realize.” I’m not going to let Paul tear down one of my best friends.

  “I don’t get it.” Paul clenches his fists tight. “How can you be friends with him?”

  “Do you know how hard it is for me to be here?” My voice wavers, but I’m not going to hold back like normal. “You broke up with me and won’t tell me why. You broke my heart, and here I am trying to be your friend. If I can do it with you, I can do it with Dylan.” My arms wrap tight around my knees, hard enough to push them into my chest. This is difficult. It’s hard to be friends with a guy who held my heart and then threw it away like a used gum wrapper.

  “I’m sorry.” Paul finally meets my eyes. “You deserve better.”

  I shrug. I hope he didn’t break up with me because he thinks I deserve better. I still don’t know what I deserve, but I’m not going to let anyone else fight my battles. I know how to draw a line in the sand and make a peace treaty. I’ve done it with Dylan, and I can do it with Paul.

  “Do you want to take a walk around the lake?” I ask.

  Paul smiles, the smile I’ve missed seeing. It makes me feel like sinking into a pile of mush. It’s pleasurable, but it’s also a borderline nervous feeling because it’s hard to forget he’s the one who broke up with me. Paul stands and takes my hand to help me off the ground. His hand lingers on mine longer than it needs to, but I don’t pull mine away from his either. I squeeze his hand, and he squeezes mine right back with the smile that renders me mushy.

  We don’t hold hands while we walk the paved path around the lake. Our arms brush against one another and I feel every graze with an intensity. We walked this path months ago when we first started dating. Dylan runs at us and pushes curls out of his face with a hand. I can’t see his pretty eyes behind his dark sunglasses.

  “Hi, Ashley,” Dylan says when he passes by. I return his greeting and Paul ignores him.

  The coldness between Dylan and Paul hasn’t thawed, and I wonder if I can be the bridge to mend their rift. I was the start of their differences, and it’s possible I could be the end. How hard can it be to be friends with two boys who don’t like each other?

  THIRTY-FOUR

  Nora sits on my bed Sunday afternoon and scrolls through her phone while I mark up a rough draft of my English research paper. I cap my pen and set the paper aside.

  “I need help,” I say.

  Nora looks up from her phone. “I hope this isn’t another plan and list like last week. How’s that going by the way?”

  “Different plan,” I say. “That was a bust. I need to find Dylan the most perfect blind date.”

  Nora narrows her eyes at me and puckers her lips. “Isn’t that the same plan?”

  I wiggle my head. “I guess. But Dylan’s agreed to it.”

  “He did?” Nora’s phone drops to the mattress. “He agreed to let you set him up?”

  “Yes, we hung out Friday…” I start.

  “You hung out and didn’t tell me?” Nora’s voice increases in pitch.

  “Yes, and…” I notice Nora snatch her phone and start to text. “What’re you doing?”

  “I can’t believe you guys hung out without us and Dylan’s letting you set him up on a date.” Nora continues texting.

  “Are you telling Nick?”

  Nora swipes on her phone and looks at me. “Yes.”

  She’s seriously got it bad for him if she’s telling him every little thing.

  “Dylan said I could set him up on a blind date on Friday and he…”

  Nora’s phone chimes and she looks at it. “Dylan’s setting you up with someone?” Nora looks up at me with wide eyes. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  I shove Nora. “I was just about to tell you. He’s setting me up with someone on Saturday.”

  “You’re going on a blind date?” Nora’s jaw drops. “You?”

  I roll my eyes. “Yes.”

  “You?” Nora stares at me. Her bright blue eyes twinkle with amusement. “You’re letting Dylan set you up with someone? You’re going on a date?”

  I get off the bed and start straightening the swimming trophies on my dresser. “Yes. Don’t act so shocked.”

  “It’s shocking,” Nora says. “This is so unlike you.”

  I turn and face Nora. “Could you do me a favor and ask your boyfriend if he has a suggestion of who I should set Dylan up with?”

  Nora keeps staring at me as if someone else has taken over my body. Maybe someone has, because everything coming out of my mouth lately is nothing I could imagine myself saying even a few months ago.

  Nora shakes her head and starts punching her fingers on the phone screen. “You do know Dylan is going to set you up with someone horrible, right?” I nod and watch Nora text. “I’m going to tell Nick we’re doubling with you. I’m not letting you blindly go out with someone.”

  “Isn’t that the point of a blind date?” I ask.

  Nora narrows her eyes at me and keeps texting. “Hmm…” She purses her lips together.

  “Does he have a suggestion for a date for Dylan?”

  “You could be his blind date,” she says. “I’m sure that’d surprise him.”

  “No way!” I exclaim. “The point is to find him someone else. But who?”

  “Guess what?” Nora looks up from her phone. “Nick and I are doubling for both blind dates. Dylan on Friday and you on Saturday. We’re the date protection team.”

  I sit on the edge of the bed and wrap my arm around Nora’s shoulders. “This’ll be so much fun.”

  Nora pokes me in the side. “What’s happened to you lately?”

  Wednesday rolls around and I still haven’t chosen someone to be Dylan’s blind date. Only two days remain. If I don’t find someone, I’m going to have to resort to being his date. Mom texts me while I’m at work and asks if I can pick up a gallon of milk on the way home. When I text back that I can, she adds five more things to the list. I think about how much milk Jacob drinks and set a gallon in my cart, when someone taps me on the shoulder.

  “Hi, Ash,” Lark says when I turn. “How’re you doing?”

  “Fine. And you?” I ask. Lark looks just as good as she does in school. She’s in a skirt, with a frilly top, and cute wedges. I’m in sweats and my hair is wet from lessons. I don’t have any classes with Lark this trimester, and I only see her in the hallways during passing time.

  “I heard you and Paul broke up.” Lark eyes me with the sympathetic look everyone gives me, everyone except Tara and Bridgette.

  Whenever someone says something about us breaking up, I want to scream, “He broke up with me!” I only look at Lark and offer a weak smile. “Yeah.”

  Lark places a hand on my arm. “You okay?”

  “Yeah, I’m fine,” I reply.

  Fine. It doesn’t mean I’m well or great, but I’m fine and surviving. It’s been over five weeks and Paul and I are trying to be friends. I’m moving on.

  “And Dylan?” Lark looks concerned. She knew about me dating Dylan, and I drove Lark and her boyfriend home from
Dylan’s house once.

  “Actually,” I say, realizing this is a great segue to my dilemma. “We’re friends. I’m supposed to set him up with a blind date this Friday. Do you know anybody he’d like to go out with?”

  “I know a lot of girls who’d give anything to go out with him.” A tiny laugh escapes Lark. “But someone he’d like? That’s a little harder.”

  “Please,” I say. “I’m having trouble picking someone for him.”

  “It’s probably best if it’s someone who doesn’t go to school with him, someone who doesn’t know you…” Lark eyes me. “And someone he hasn’t dated before.”

  I groan. “That really narrows it down, doesn’t it?”

  Lark bites her lip. “I might know someone.”

  My eyes widen. “Really? Do you think she’d go out with Dylan on Friday? Nora and her boyfriend are going to double to make it a little less awkward.”

  Lark nods. “Can I get back to you in a bit?”

  “Sure.” My mood has improved. I don’t even know what this girl is like, but I’m excited.

  Lark seeks me out at school the next day before first period. We stand in the entry, under the huge banner advertising the prom theme of A Night to Remember. Lark shows me a photo of the girl she found to go on the blind date with Dylan. She’s gorgeous with dark eyes and hair, and a kiss worthy smile. She’s completely and utterly beautiful, and if her personality matches her outward appearance, there’s no way Dylan can’t fall for her. I hope he has a night to remember. Lark pulls her phone back after showing me the photo of Tori.

  “We’ve done cheerleading camps together,” Lark tells me. “She’s funny and outgoing, likes music and dance, and is an awesome choreographer.”

  “Thank you so much,” I say. “I can’t believe she agreed to it.”

  Lark laughs. “It only took a photo of Dylan for her to agree.” Her face turns serious. “I hope he’s on his best behavior or I’m gonna kick his rear if he tries anything with Tori.”

  “Dylan’s a complete gentleman. He won’t do anything,” I say. “Plus, Nora and Nick are doubling. It’s just a nice blind date and then if things click, maybe they’ll go out another time.”