Captivating Clay (Team Loco #3)

by Amy Sparling

  “You want to ride with me to lunch?” he asks her.

  “Sure,” she says, flashing him a smile.

  Jealousy flares up in me. Aiden says something but I’m not listening. I nod toward him but I can’t take my eyes off Avery as she climbs into Tom’s truck.

  Whatever.

  This was a stupid idea anyway.

  Chapter 12

  We get a much needed day off after the Hopewell training camp. Since yesterday’s training took place at Zach’s hometown track, the whole motocross-loving town had wanted to be there to see Zach and Team Loco. Marcus had agreed to let spectators in if they paid a ten dollar entry fee that would be donated to charity. The guys raised a ton of money and it’s so cool seeing them use their fame for something good. Plus the kids who get to participate in the training camp seem to really love the experience. I’m sure it’ll stick with them for a long time and maybe one of those kids will become a famous professional racer one day.

  We fly out to Vegas tomorrow morning and I’m so excited because that’s the coolest place we’ve been so far. I can’t wait to see the lights, the desert, the famous tourist places and spots from my favorite movies. Maybe I’ll even see the Grand Canyon on the flight over there. Marcus has already warned me that the Vegas trip will be more intense because it’s also a PR and marketing trip. The guys have interviews, photo shoots, and the training camp to do. But I’m trying not to stress about any of that now. Today I’m hanging out with Bree at Zach’s mom’s house and trying to enjoy the day off.

  Bree is pretty cool. She’s more laid back than Keanna, who is always chipper and in a great mood. Bree is kind of quiet, but sincere in a way that makes her feel like a real friend even though we’ve only known each other a little while. She grew up here in Hopewell, working at the local motocross track her whole life, but she’s not one of those annoying “track bunnies.” When I first heard one of the guys say that term, I’d thought it was demeaning and rude, but now I kind of understand it.

  There’s this whole world of girls who hang out at the motocross tracks, dressed like runway models with their hair and makeup done even though they’re going to spend the whole day sweating in the hot sun, outdoors in the dirt. It’s kind of weird. They’re clearly just looking to snag a motocross guy, and it’s a little desperate if you ask me. Girls should value themselves for more than just being a pretty face.

  Bree and I help Zach’s mom make blueberry muffins for breakfast, and then we eat them alone because the guys couldn’t be bothered to wait for them. They all headed to the track early this morning to get some riding in. Apparently they love the sport so much that they go a little crazy when they can’t ride every day.

  “This is the best muffin I’ve ever had,” I say with a mouthful of delicious goodness. It’s my second one of the morning, which is saying a lot because they’re huge. We used Mrs. Pena’s large muffin tin instead of the regular sized one.

  “Seriously,” Bree says, taking a sip of her coffee. “I think it’s the sugar crystals on top.”

  “It’s everything,” I say, taking another bite.

  Mrs. Pena laughs. She’s sitting on the recliner and Bree and I are sharing a warm fleece blanket on the couch while we all watch a Netflix marathon of a show called Strange Tourist. “I’ll give you the recipe.”

  My eyes widen. “Thanks!”

  Mrs. Pena smiles at me. I feel so bad because she told me her name when I met her, but I can’t remember it. I get a little nervous meeting all these new people, and I guess I didn’t pay enough attention. So I’m just calling her Mrs. Pena for now.

  Bree’s phone beeps and she checks it. “Keanna just got in an Uber from the airport. She’ll be here in an hour.”

  “I love that girl,” Mrs. Pena says. “She’s always so sweet.”

  I give Bree a look. “Don’t tell her anything about you know what.”

  Bree smirks. “Why not? You know she’ll love it.”

  “That’s exactly why we won’t be talking about it.”

  Mrs. Pena watches us. “Okay, now I have to know what that’s about.”

  I feel a blush creeping to my cheeks and Bree gives me a questioning look, clealry asking permission to share the story with Zach’s mom. I shrug.

  She grins and tells Mrs. Pena, “Little Tom has the hots for Avery.”

  Mrs. Pena’s eyebrows shoot up and then she laughs. “Well, I could have guessed that. The boy always goes for unattainable girls.”

  “He’s nice,” I say, trying to defend him. He’s a little chubby, but still cute. Plus he really is super nice.

  “Oh, no I didn’t mean anything bad about him,” Mrs. Pena says. “He’s a sweet guy. Totally great boyfriend material. It’s just that you don’t even live around here! He’s wasting his time getting a crush on you.”

  I nod. “It is kind of weird.”

  “He was all over her yesterday,” Bree says. “He followed her around like a puppy.”

  “I think he was just being nice,” I say.

  Bree and Mrs. Pena shake their heads in unison. “Oh no, he had the hots for you,” Bree says. “He was crushing hard. Zach was giving him crap for it last night.”

  I roll my eyes. “It doesn’t matter. I don’t even live here.”

  “You could do a long distance thing?” Bree suggests.

  I make a face. “No way. Too complicated.”

  She wiggles her eyebrows. “Would it be too complicated for someone else? Like maybe Clay?”

  I grab a couch pillow and smack her with it. “I do not like Clay!”

  Mrs. Pena chuckles. “When you say it like that, it sounds like maybe you do like him.”

  “Oh my god, you too?” I say, laughing to make it seem like I don’t care about the accusation, when really it bothers me a lot. “I don’t like him!”

  “But he’s so cute,” Mrs. Pena says. “All tall and mysterious… if I was your age, I’d be all over him.”

  Beside me, Bree is grinning as if she’s won this argument by having Mrs. Pena join her side. I hit her with the couch pillow again.

  “I don’t like Tom and I don’t like Clay,” I say pointedly, keeping my head held high. “Besides, I’m focusing on work right now. I don’t care about any guys at the moment.”

  “Okay, I understand,” Mrs. Pena says. “Also we should probably not tell Keanna about Little Tom’s crush or she’ll be all over that.”

  We all agree, and eventually we settle back into watching TV. I haven’t told Bree or anyone else about how Clay cornered me and told me that nothing would ever happen between us. It’s too embarrassing to admit out loud. I know I don’t like Tom deep down, but I did enjoy getting all the attention from him yesterday. It made me feel a whole lot better that at least someone is attracted to me, even if it’s not Clay.

  But as soon as I think it, I tell myself to let it go. It shouldn’t matter. I really am here for the work experience and the traveling – not to get a boyfriend. Hopefully soon my chest will stop constricting every time I think of Clay.

  In the afternoon, all of the guys show up after a long day of riding at the motocross track. Zach had arrived first to shower and change clothes at his own house, but the guys went back to their hotel to clean up before coming over. Keanna and Jett are so cute when they reunite. Even if it’s only been a few days since they last saw each other, they act like it’s been years.

  I sit on the couch and watch as Keanna squeals when Jett walks in the front door. She rushes over to him and he picks her up and they hug, her arms tightly wrapped around his neck. The sight of it warms me to the core. I want a relationship like that. Maybe one day I will get that lucky.

  Clay shuffles in last, earbuds in place like they always are. He gives Zach’s mom a quick hug and then settles on the couch, not even looking in my direction. Fine, who cares. I certainly don’t.

  The small living room feels a little cramped with all the guys here. They’re all energized from a day of riding and they’re talking so m
uch that it makes it hard for Bree, Keanna and me to keep watching our Netflix show. But the good news is that with so much going on, Bree has no way to accidentally bring up the Tom thing.

  And then the doorbell rings, and that very same person enters the house. I feel a blush creep from my head to my toes when Tom smiles at me. He gives me a little wave and then turns his attention to the guys.

  Zach claps him on the back. “I’m glad you could come over,” he says. They’re old friends, according to what Tom had told me yesterday. They’ve known each other since they were little kids.

  I glance at Bree, but she’s on her phone. Good. Hopefully she keeps quiet.

  “How long are you guys staying?” Tom asks Zach.

  “Just tonight. Headed to Vegas in the morning.”

  “Cool, cool,” Tom says with a nod. He glances over at me and smiles. I smile back.

  As the conversation goes back to motocross, Tom makes his way over to me. “You remember that pool stick I told you about yesterday?”

  I nod. Somehow we’d gotten on the conversation of pool and he’d told me about a clear acrylic stick he had inherited from his grandfather. Tom gives me a sheepish look and I can’t believe I didn’t realize it yesterday. He’s got a huge crush on me. He’s twenty years old and he’s acting like a little kid on the school playground. It’s actually kind of cute. If I lived here in Tennessee, I might like him back.

  “I brought it if you want to see it?” he says. “It’s in my truck.”

  “Sure,” I say with a cheerful smile. I know this won’t go anywhere, but he’s a nice guy.

  I grab the throw blanket off the couch and wrap it around my shoulders before following him through the garage door out to the front yard. Bree wiggles her eyebrows at me when I walk past her and I roll my eyes back at her. We’re just looking at a pool stick. It’s no big deal.

  It’s cold outside and my blanket is only doing so much. I shiver as Tom opens the passenger door of this truck and shows me the stick. It’s pretty cool – the entire thing is clear and the inside has a small rose embedded in the plastic.

  Tom shuffles on his feet while I admire the pool stick. “So uh, listen, Avery.”

  I swallow. Uh oh.

  Tom smiles. “I know you’re leaving tomorrow and it’s totally not a big deal. But you’re a cool girl and, well, I was wondering if you’d like to have dinner with me tonight? Just for fun?”

  He’s so nervous and it’s adorable. I don’t think a guy has ever been nervous to talk to me in my whole life. I smile back. “Sure.”

  Tom beams. “Cool. I’ll come by and pick you up around six? I need to head back to work real quick.”

  I nod. “Okay, that works.”

  Tom gives me another nervous grin and then tells me goodbye. I wave at him as he backs out of the driveway and then I turn around and rush back toward the house. It’s freezing out here. I jog into the open garage and then stop short.

  Clay is standing there wearing that hoodie he loaned me in Florida, hands in his pockets. His earbuds are gone.

  “You scared me,” I say, stepping around him.

  “Wait,” he says.

  I stop, just a few steps away from the door that would take me back inside where it’s nice and warm and away from Clay.

  Clay’s lips press together and he looks down at the concrete floor. “Did he just ask you out?”

  I lift an eyebrow. Clay watches me silently, waiting for an answer. I shrug. “We’re going to dinner tonight.”

  I catch a flash of something in his eyes, but I’m not sure what. Clay stares at me for a few seconds that seem to stretch on forever. I’m shivering, my jaw rapidly shaking. I wish he would get on with it.

  “You really need to buy some warmer clothes,” he says.

  I roll my eyes and start walking toward the door again.

  “Avery—” His voice makes me stop again. There’s something pained in it, which is weird because this boy never shows any emotions. “Don’t go out with him,” he says, sounding like the words cause him physical pain.

  Something flutters to life in my stomach.

  I turn around and face him. “Why? Is he some kind of serial killer?”

  “No,” Clay says, breaking our eye contact to glance at the floor again. “He’s actually a nice guy. That makes it even worse.”

  I pull the blanket tighter around my shoulders. “Makes what even worse?”

  Clay stares at me again. It’s like he wants to say something but just can’t. I’m losing my patience with this guy. One second he’s a total jerk to me, and the next he’s doing something kind like loaning me his hoodie or helping me deal with crazy motocross moms.

  “What?” I say, my voice louder and ruder than necessary. But I’m totally over this. I throw my arms up, which lets in a cold rush of winter air under the blanket that chills me to the core. “Why are you even talking to me? You made it very clear you can’t stand me, and I’m fine with that, okay? So leave me alone. It’s not like you like me or anything.”

  “Dammit, Avery.” He scrubs his hands down his face. “Maybe I do, okay?”

  I’m not cold anymore. I stare into Clay’s eyes, see the pain beneath the beautiful chestnut color. If he’s only said one true thing in his entire life, I’d bet my life this is it. You can’t fake that kind of sincerity. But if he actually likes me, why does it look like it hurts him so much to admit it?

  I am suddenly very aware of my heart pounding, as if it hadn’t been beating for the last few minutes and now it needs to work overtime to catch up. My ears pound and my vision goes a little blurry around the edges because I haven’t looked away from Clay in so long.

  It’s probably only been a few seconds, but it feels like an eternity.

  I open my mouth to say something. I’m not sure what, because I’m still in shock, but whatever it is will surely change everything between us.

  The garage door swings open and Zach pokes his head out. “Ah, there he is! Dude, I found that picture from Ponca and you’re right—we were both on the podium together. Can you believe that? Ten years old and we had no idea we’d be on a race team together later on.”

  Clay’s expression flips like a light switch and he goes from staring at me to smiling at Zach. “That’s crazy,” he says, turning to face Zach.

  Zach is grinning and obviously so excited about whatever the hell Ponca is, and he doesn’t seem to realize there’s some serious shit going on between Clay and me. He waves a hand. “Come see it.”

  Zach heads inside and Clay glances back at me. I get the feeling I could ask him to stay, but I don’t, and he gives me an uncertain smile before heading into the house. I don’t follow them right away. The moment is gone so quickly that I start to wonder if it even happened.

  Chapter 13

  Talk about bad timing. I finally get the courage to say something and Zach bursts in and ruins the moment. Maybe it was actually good timing. Honestly, I had no idea what I was going to say next. Just straight up confess that I’m crushing on her despite my best efforts not to? I definitely, definitely can’t tell her that. It would ruin everything. I guess it’s for the best that Zach interrupted us even if I hate walking away from her.

  I should have never said those words. I was just so caught up in the moment, feeling a rush of white-hot jealousy surge through my veins as I watched that guy Tom pathetically ask her out. That is not how you ask out a girl. He was so nervous and boring about it. He wasn’t treating her like the only girl in the world. She deserves so much better than that guy.

  She didn’t even tell him yes. She told him “sure,” which means she probably just felt bad for him. That painful feeling hits my chest again as I relive the moment in my mind. Zach is taking me to his childhood bedroom, where a photo album is spread out on the bed and I can barely pay attention to it all because I’m still thinking of her. Of Tom. Of the dinner date they’re going on tonight.

  God, I hope she changes her mind and doesn’t go.

&nbs
p; “Nice hair, bro.”

  Zach holds up a glossy photo from the Ponca races in 2007, when I was ten years old. It’s the 8 x 10 collectors photo they sold at the races for twenty bucks. It’s the kind I never bought for myself because I didn’t care and I didn’t have parents who obsessed over me who would buy this kind of souvenir. Clearly Zach’s mom bought them.

  There we are, the winners of the 85 Mod 11 and under class, standing on the podium proudly showing off our trophies. I was in first place, Zach was in second, and a kid named Blake Weston was in third. I never saw Blake after that race, and I wonder what happened to him.

  I stare at the picture for a moment. I’m ten years old, with bleached hair that was stark white because the girl at the Sally’s Hair Supply in my neighborhood told me I’d look cool with bleached hair. I remember this race pretty well. My granddad couldn’t drive us all the way to Oklahoma for the Ponca city race, but he’d let me ride with my friend Jackson, whose parents felt sorry for me. I was pretty much on my own even back then. I remember riding my bike to the starting line of that race, sitting there alone while all the other kids had parents hanging out with them and wishing them luck. I didn’t need to be told good luck. I made my own luck.

  “That’s crazy,” I say, looking up from the picture. Zach’s grinning because he thinks it’s cool—and it is cool—but it’s just drudged up some weird memories for me. For as long as I can remember I’ve told myself I didn’t need anyone. I wasn’t sentimental. I wasn’t some crybaby who needed a mom to comfort him. I could do everything alone, and I did. But for the first time in my life, I can’t stop thinking about doing things with Avery. What if she was waiting for me at the starting line the way the guys’ girlfriends wait for them? What if she hugged me after the races like all the other guys with girlfriends? Sure I’m fine on my own. I always have been. But would life be a little better if someone was there for me?