After tugging on my hiking pants, I start lacing up my boots so we can head back down to the hotel. Reid is all packed up and starts trying to tug the picnic blanket out from under Riley. She won’t budge and keeps holding up her finger as if to silence him. Riley must be in the middle of a chapter. Reid doesn’t get it and keeps tugging harder and harder until she ends up on the mushy dirt.
“Reid Antonio Hastings.”
Reid absolutely hates his middle name. It’s his father’s name. I’m not sure the exact reasons he hates his father, but I know that he does—passionately.
Wet pieces of dirt shift under my boots as I scramble to gather our belongings. “Let’s head back to the hotel.”
Riley looks pleased with herself, and Reid is glaring at her. But they both seem to listen to me, and start collecting their bags too. The qualifying race starts at nine a.m. tomorrow. This morning was fun, but I desperately need to relax for the rest of today if I stand any chance of making it down the mountain alive.
The familiar disquiet of my mind starts to take hold as we slowly descend the trail. I love biking…really I swear I do, but sometimes I worry that I wasn’t cut out for this. The feeling when I finally hit a jump or nail a landing is unmatched. Nothing in life has ever made me feel quite as alive as biking, but every time I line up at the trail head, I somehow feel like it’s my first time on a bike. It’s an infuriating phenomenon—shouldn’t it be getting easier?
Reid is never phased. No matter how big the drop or how technical the trail is, he trusts his body to do it, and it always obeys.
Rock slips beneath me and my breath hitches. My friends don’t notice—they’re staring off into the distance as they place each sure foot in front of the other. Even hiking makes me nervous, how can I call myself a professional mountain biker?
11
Agurgle in my stomach reminds me that lunch only consisted of measly sandwiches. Usually I make sure to load up on carbs before a ride, let alone a competition day. But that habit isn’t something I particularly want Reid to witness. Hell, I don’t even want Riley to see me shove my face with mass amounts of pasta.
It’s a stupid thing to be worried about. I know that. Reid would support just about any pre-ride ritual I wanted if he thought it’d make me feel more confident. Ultimately, I don’t want to admit I need any special protocols. Everyone else can simply get up there and do the damn thing without a second thought.
Logically, I know they must train, but I never see it happening. Most of these riders can shotgun a beer and land a perfect canyon gap. I’m sickeningly jealous of that.
Driving down Cache Street in the daylight looks remarkably different than it does at night. The cowboy bar somehow looks ten times cheesier now that it’s basking in the sun. I do my best to forget how stupid I was last night, trying to forget the skimpysundress I put on and how I trampled around like some fake buckle bunny flirting with Reid.
He only gave me his shirt to be nice. It means nothing more, and it never will. I need to remember that.
We’re still driving to the hotel. Mountain towns are my favorite places to be, but the traffic can be a nightmare. The speed limit is only twenty-five miles per hour through most of Jackson. Once you get downtown, it drops to fifteen miles per hour but you’re lucky if you get to ten. There are clueless tourists crawling about, oooing and awing at every piece of taxidermy they see.
The hot leather seats are making my thighs stick. The air is thick with sweat, and it’s getting harder to take in deep breaths. This feeling always hits me before an event. My skin is too tight, and there isn’t enough space in my rib cage to accommodate my thumping heart.
Reid rolls down his window. I’m not sure if he’s feeling claustrophobic too or if he can tell I’m spiraling—I hope he can’t.
In case he can, I make a last ditch effort to salvage my inhales before they tumble away from me. It doesn’t work—a soft wheeze escapes my mouth. It’s a perfect imitation of that penguin from Toy Story. Thankfully, the music is loud enough that neither of them seem to take note of it.
The cap of my water bottle falls to the floor of the car as I shove it off. There’s one tiny half melted ice cube left. Fishing for it, I finally grasp it, and it melts away before I can glide it all the way across my forehead—but it helps.
Reid jumps out of the passenger door before Riley even shifts into park. He couldn’t wait to get out of this prison of a car either.
The backs of my thighs sting as I peel them away from the sweltering seats yet again. Once the sun comes out in these mountain towns, the air can quickly turn from lovely to lava.We’re firmly in lava territory now. Riley shoots me a look and she motions to Reid as he walks over towards his van.
My shoulders shrug in response. This is normal for us. Before rides, we each drown in our default coping mechanisms. He gets reckless and I ruminate—that’s who we are.
Reid will drive back to the boat yard to drink and skateboard, or whatever it is they do in that polyurethane playground. I’ll sit in a scalding shower and try to envision every turn and jump until my skin is raw and wilted.
I say a silent prayer that I’ll actually have access to a scalding shower tonight. That’s a luxury I won’t have for the rest of the trip, and I’m honestly not sure how I’ll make do without it.
Riley heads straight for the hotel entrance after locking her rental car. I follow her, but Reid grabs my wrist before I can move forward. His eyes bore into mine. I can’t shift mine away fast enough.
The green depths pull me in like they always do, and my walls fall some—enough for him to see it. My internal struggle isn’t as internal as I had hoped, because something shifts in his gaze. Reid is backing away an inch, swallowing hard.
He corrects himself and steps forward before pulling me into a hug. His rushing exhale skates against my scalp.
“You’re gonna crush it, Blondie.”
For once, I’m glad for the nickname. It makes me roll my eyes and forces a half chuckle out. I pull myself out of his arms before I let myself get comfortable there—it’d be easy to do.
He towers over me, and somehow I feel like I shrunk over the course of the drive. Reid has always been tall, much taller than me. But it has never felt quite so obvious. His eyebrows raise like he can sense exactly what I’m thinking. I hate how he can do that.
