Keanna
Jett is being a lot more affectionate than usual. I mean, it’s not like he’s ever been distant or cold toward me, but lately it’s like he’s metal and I’m magnetized and he can’t stay away from me. I like it, but it makes me wonder. Is he being overly affectionate to make up for something I don’t know about?
I try to shrug the thoughts away. I remind myself that Jett is mine, and he’s the greatest guy ever, and he’s loyal and loving and would never lie to me. It helps a little.
I check the time on my phone—it’s three in the morning. I keep falling asleep and then waking up half an hour later, filled with bad thoughts about Jett and worries over nothing. I roll over and look at Jett in the darkness. The moonlight filters in through the window just a little, and I can make out the outline of his face sleeping peacefully next to me. I scoot a little closer and rest my head on his shoulder.
On instinct, his arm goes around me. His breath stays steady, and he remains asleep, but even when totally passed out, he remembers to hold onto me. It warms my heart and I slip back to sleep, telling myself I was stupid to worry about anything.
*
We arrive in Dallas, Texas around ten in the morning. There’s a stadium next door to the hotel we’re staying at and that’s where the arenacross races will be tomorrow. For now, we have the day to rest and Jett plans on taking it easy to prepare for the race tomorrow.
“This hotel is pretty nice,” Jett says as we step off the elevators on the tenth floor.
“Damn,” a voice calls out from down the hallway. I recognize it immediately as Zach Pena, a fellow Team Loco racer. “They let anyone in here!” he says, winking at me. “I thought this hotel was for classy people only,” he says to Jett.
“You should have known it wasn’t the second they let your country ass in here,” Jett says, walking up and fist bumping his teammate. We may live in Texas, which is home of the cowboys, but Zach is from a small town in Tennessee and his southern twang puts Texans to shame.
After leaving our stuff in our hotel room, we meet up with Zach and the other two guys on Team Loco, Clay and Aiden. I usually feel like the odd one out when I’m with the guys, but it’s been long enough now that I feel included. They don’t rag on Jett for bringing his girlfriend, and they’re all very nice to me so it works. Still, I think it’d be better if one of the other guys got a girlfriend so I’d have someone to hang out with while they do their thing. I don’t really see that happening, though. Zach is a player who hooks up more than he dates girls, Clay only cares about dirt bikes so it’s like women aren’t even on his radar, and Zach cares more about earning money to help his family back home than meeting girls. But maybe one day it’ll happen.
We head over to the stadium next door so the guys can get checked in for tomorrow’s races. Since I’m Jett’s VIP guest, I get a blue wristband that lets me into the races for free, and it also lets me into the special areas that spectators can’t get into, like the starting line and the pits. I’m feeling a little more than special as I wrap the bracelet around my wrist.
I love the smell of arenacross tracks. It’s a little weird, probably, but the exhaust mixed with fresh dirt has started to remind me of home. Dirt bikes are Jett’s thing, and he is my home. The Track, the business my parents and Jett’s parents own, is also home and that place is 99% dirt. So maybe it’s not the smell of dirt that I’m attracted to, but the feelings that come with it. For the first time in my life I have a home. I am wanted, and I am loved.
I couldn’t say so much about the first seventeen years of my existence. I was raised by a selfish woman who could never hold down a job or keep an apartment. Her relationships were crap and her idea of love was trying to get me to sleep with some creeper old guy in exchange for money. Those days of my life seem to long ago now that I’ve moved on and joined another, much better family. I used to have nightmares about it, about her. But now my life is happy and my dreams are mostly good.
The guys get into the empty arena and one of the employees lets us walk the track. It’s not the same as riding it, but seeing the layout lets the guys get a good vibe for how it’ll be to race on it tomorrow.
I hold Jett’s hand while we walk around on the dirt, and I stay mostly quiet while he and the guys talk nonstop. It’s all dirt bike talk, which is mostly lost on me.
Eventually, we leave and walk back to our hotel, which only half a block away. The parking lot is filled with other racers and people who will set up vendor booths at the races tomorrow. Jett and the other guys say hello to a ton of people as we walk past them. I notice a few girls watching me, their eyes trailing from my face to my hand, which is still clasped in Jett’s. I try not to let it make me feel awkward. After all, I’d be jealous if I were in their shoes. Everyone loves Jett Adams, but he only loves me.
Since it’s nearly dinner time, the guys want to try out this steakhouse that’s right across the road. Once we’re there, I excuse myself to go pee and wash my hands. The restaurant is huge, so once I walk out of the bathroom, I can’t remember which way I took to get here.
I stand near a large potted plant and casually look around the tables, hoping to spot Jett before too long so I don’t look like an idiot.
“That is definitely Jett,” I hear someone say.
I look to my right and see two girls, about my age, sitting at the bar. They’re turned around and staring toward the left. I follow their gaze and see my boyfriend sitting with Clay, Zach, and Aiden, and let out a sigh of relief. Two of Jett’s fans saved me from getting lost. Go figure.
“…so fucking hot,” I hear one of the girls say.
“They’re all hot,” the other one says back.
Curiosity takes over and I stay here behind this tree a little longer, just to hear what they’re saying.
“Yeah, but Jett is hotter. He looks just like his dad.”
“You should go talk to him instead of sitting here lusting after him,” her friend says.
The girl wiggles her eyebrows. “Maybe I will … I don’t see that slut girlfriend of his. Looks like he’s free for the taking.”
A knot of anger twists in my stomach. Just because Jett has a girlfriend doesn’t mean she’s a slut. It doesn’t mean I’m a slut. Why are girls so freaking mean to each other?
“Ugh, I forgot about that hoe,” the friend says, curling her lip in disgust. “Are they still a thing? They can’t possibly still be together. She looks like backwoods trailer trash.”
“Last time I checked, they were,” the first girl says.
Hot tears threaten to spill from my eyes, but I blink them away. Maybe it’s because her comment hit too close to home, but I’m totally pissed off right now. I was born and raised as white trash. So what? That’s not who I am anymore. And Jett shouldn’t be insulted for who he’s dating.
I step away from the potted plant and walk right up them. Their eyes widen when they see me, and I make a big deal of looking at what the first girl is wearing. A low-cut tank top and short shorts with fishnet stockings underneath them. Her makeup looks like a kid put it on, trying their hardest to be sexy.
“Take a look at the two of us,” I say, standing tall and holding my head high. “Which one of us seems more like a slut? Because it’s not me.”
Her mouth hangs open like the idiot she is, and with a satisfied smile, I turn and walk toward my boyfriend.