“You’re cute when you run out of things to say.” The vicious weight of his stare encounters my wicked one until his eyes travel to my lips.
I slowly pronounce each word on purpose, “You’re cute when you leave.”
He nods as he turns to leave, “Whatever makes you sleep better, Wilder.” Amusement rolls out of his tongue as he strides away.
My phone pings and I grab it to see an email from MotoRR with daily news about this season’s championship.
“Bow Reyes is still leading the competition as one of the top pro riders after his amazing performance. The twenty-six-year-old champion from Las Vegas, Nevada is on the way to winning the next world championship for the second time in a row.”
I read the first few lines before I close my phone and put it aside. He is the faceless rider, that’s what everyone calls him because he refuses to show his face, stating he likes his privacy. He is one of the best and has the sickest riding skillsI’ve ever seen.
I’m pretty sure he is going to slay this competition this season after he gained countless fans by doing stunts for a few movies. He has the top sponsors in the business as well as top gear and talent.
I always wanted to compete myself, but most competitors start at an early age so they can gain more experience and start competing at younger levels. Also being a woman makes things difficult.
Bow Reyes started riding when he was three years old, that’s crazy, but also the reason he is where he is today.
Maybe I’m a dreamer but… I have this wish to participate in a racing competition one day. It doesn’t have to be big league or anything major, it can just be something I can accomplish and experience.
Wishful thinking.
What do you think, Mom?
I take another look at the list and my eyes get lost in all the names that are written down. I did not expect this but it is going to earn me a lot of cash. Finally, I could save money for new gear and my dream bike.
I could also pay for Dad’s hydrotherapy. This is how I can repay him for always being there for me. Despite my reservations—which I never verbalize—I know he will tattoo even with the pain.
We have a lot of clients, even when I’m here he told me he would work at the shop occasionally because he can’t let people down but I care about him, not them.
My fingers draw circles on my phone screen before I shoot him a text.
Blakely
Hey Dad!
Did you go to hydrotherapy?
Dad
Hey sweetie, I did.
I have a new instructor.
Blakely
Really? Is he any good?
Dad
She is nice.
She...
Blakely
Does she have a name?
Dad
