When the races begin, the track is filled with people. Every space of land has a car parked on it, and the bleachers are overstuffed with spectators. The sweet older woman who works in the score tower told me that it’s all thanks to me, as if this huge turnout of people is a good thing.
I mean, it is a good thing, for her. For the business. They charge ten dollars per person to watch the races, so my sudden exile to this small town has made business boom. It just sucks for me because I’m forced to either be rude and tell everyone to leave me alone, or suck it up and smile politely and take photos.
So far, I’ve done the latter. I just really wish I could do the first thing.
But being a jerk is what got me into this mess in the first place. If I hadn’t pummeled two handsy rookies in front of everyone at the stadium, this wouldn’t have happened. Don’t get me wrong, they both deserved it for taking advantage of girls.
I just should have done it in private.
I get ready for my first race of the night and I see Bella standing near her truck, which is parked by her tree. She told me today that the tree is her favorite spot because it’s shady and out of the way of everyone else. She didn’t have to say it, but I know why she likes to park away from everyone else. She’s scared. Scared of being judged, or watched, or whatever it is she’s afraid of. That’s why she won’t race. Despite telling me she’s had a dirt bike since she was a little kid, she’s now eighteen years old and won’t race. I wish I could talk her into it. She would be so good and she would love it, but only if she could let go of her fear.
As I make my way toward the starting line for my race, I lift my hand off the handlebars and give her a wave. She’s sitting on her truck’s tailgate, wearing those extremely sexy cut off shorts I’ve seen on her twice before. She smiles and waves back at me.
It’s a simple gesture but it makes my pulse speed up a bit. Bella is so gorgeous and kind and I don’t think she realizes any of it. The way she looked when she told me about that jackass who rejected a date with her almost broke me. She deserves to be told yes. To dates. To anything she wants. That guy didn’t realize what he was missing.
The gate drops and the race begins and I’m off my game. I can’t get Bella out of my mind, and I miss the holeshot to some teenager on a Honda.
The holeshot is what you call being in first place when the race starts. All the riders are lined up at the starting gate, and when that gate drops, we all take off at once. The person who comes out in the lead has the holeshot.
I always get the holeshot.
But just now, I didn’t. I’m in second place. That is unacceptable.
I grit my teeth and twist the throttle and speed past that little twerp who managed to get into first place. I pass him easily, because this is what I do. This is what I was born to do.
I hold first place for the next six laps, but it’s challenging. This kid is determined to win, and he’s probably been training pretty hard for it. Normally this would be a piece of cake, but as each lap goes by, and each jump sends me and my bike soaring through the air, I can’t stop thinking about her. I almost hit a turn too fast because I’m looking for her when I drive by her truck. She’s still on her tailgate, still watching me.
Is she thinking about me like I’m thinking about her? Or is she just watching the race?
Focus, Liam.
Finally, the checkered flag flies and the race is over and I’ve secured my place in front. But my heart is thundering in my chest. I wish I could hop off this bike, run up and kiss her. But that kind of thing is frowned upon in real life, even if it’s considered romantic in movies.
I pull off the track and ride back to my truck, which is parked next to Bella. But she’s not there anymore. I take off my gear, surprised at how hard my heart is beating, Racing is hard work, but I’m never this exhausted afterward.
Maybe it’s because my heart knows what I plan on doing as soon as I find her.
While I’m at it, all full of adrenaline and confidence, I decide to make myself a better person, someone who is deserving of dating a girl like Bella. I reach into my truck and find my phone, which I’d tossed into the center console before the races begin. I open up my Instagram, which I haven’t used in a while.
Team FRZ Frame kicked me to the curb because I displayed “unprofessional behavior that doesn’t comply with the family sport of motocross.”
It’s time to change that. I don’t want to be the anger-issues jerk anymore. I open the camera and snap a picture of myself, feeling like a fool for doing it. I’m sweaty and my hair is messed up, but I’m grinning underneath the bright outdoor lights of the motocross track.
I sit in my truck and close the door to keep any fans away, even though I don’t see them right now. Parking out here by Bella was a great idea. I take a deep breath and compose a caption for this goofy selfie.
Hi guys. It’s me, Liam Mosely. I haven’t posted on here in a while because my life has been kind of crazy. Not gonna lie, I screwed up. I spent my whole life working hard to get a spot on a professional racing team and when it was in my reach, I messed up. I shouldn’t have fought another racer. I shouldn’t have acted like a jerk to my fans. For everything I’ve done, I’m sorry. It was wrong, and rude, and unprofessional. That’s not who I want to be anymore. Motocross is my life, my heart, and all I care about. I promise to do better. I’m so grateful for all my fans, and I won’t let you guys down anymore. That’s a promise. XO -Liam
I can’t overthink it or I’ll wuss out. So I post the photo and then drop my phone back in the console. I have twenty thousand followers on Instagram and I’m sure the comments will blow up in a minute, but I’ll worry about that later. Apologizing is the first step to redemption. I don’t want to be known as the guy who lost his temper on the track.
The reasons for that can’t ever be revealed anyhow, so I’ll just keep it to myself. And I’ll be better.
I put on a smile and walk toward the crowds, which is expected of me each race day. I can’t just hide out in my truck the whole time, as much as I’d like to. I need to be here, shaking hands and making fans. That’s what’ll get me back on the team and fix my career.
Plus, I really want to find Bella. She’s always so happy for me when I win a race. I keep thinking that one of these days she’ll run up and hug me or kiss my cheek or something, but maybe that’s just wishful thinking.
My heart seizes up when I find her again. She’s standing near the bleachers, drinking a diet soda, and talking to some guy. He looks about our age, with dark hair that’s cut short, and he’s wearing a Fox racing shirt but he’s clearly just here as a spectator tonight and he’s not racing. He’s smiling at her and she’s smiling back and whatever they’re talking about must be entertaining. Ugh.
White hot rage boils up in my chest, but I’m not mad at him, I’m mad at myself. I should have asked her out sooner. We’ve been hanging out every day and riding together and eating nachos for lunch together. I should have asked to take her out on a real date. I’ve had two weeks to do it. This is my fault, not his.
And then, like some kind of magic gift from the heavens, a girl with long black hair that hangs in two braids down her back walks up and links her hand into the guy’s hand. She joins in conversation with Bella and the guy and I realize that my shot isn’t over. They’re just friends. He has a girlfriend, who also happens to be friends with Bella. Awesome.
I’m back in the game.
I take one step toward her, fully planning on asking her out, and then two girls step in front of my path. They’re wearing Team FRZ Frame t-shirts and big smiles. “Oh my god,” one of them says, holding up her phone. My selfie Instagram photo is on the screen. “This was the coolest thing I’ve ever seen.”
I give her a sheepish smile. “What can I say? I’m trying.”
She leans forward and hugs me, as if we’re old friends and not strangers. “I’m really proud of you,” she says.
Her friend nods. “Me too. Can we get a photo?”
I force a friendly smile. “Of course.”
More fans line up, and I realize I should have posted my huge apology after the races when I was safely at home, because now everyone in the stands have seen my photo and they’re all talking about it. They all want photos with me, which I happily oblige because it’s expected of me now.
What’s better for my image than to be seen taking lots of pictures with fans? I hope Team FRZ Frame is watching.
By the time the night is wrapping up and I have some space to breathe, I can’t find Bella again. I walk back to our trucks, but hers is gone. I check the time and it’s just after midnight. I guess she went home. But I won’t let that derail my plans. I’m on a high of adrenaline from winning my race, and making so many fans happy tonight. What do I have to lose?
I pull out my phone and look up her number. We’d exchanged numbers the other day but we haven’t texted each other yet since I see her every day at the track and I’ve been a little nervous to make the first move.
But it’s time.
Me: Hey, sorry I missed you. You still awake?
Bella: Yep, just got home. Was getting too tired to drive so I didn’t want to stay longer. Good race tonight.
Her reply is so professional. I’m about to break down those walls with one carefully worded text. I bite my lip and type out the words, then I hit send.
Me: Will you go on a date with me?
It takes her three minutes to respond but I feels like an eternity.
Bella: Sorry… I don’t think that’s a good idea.