Like some kind of creepy stalker, I watch him for the next hour. He rides laps around his yard using the piles of dirt as jumps. Once he landed on the front wheel first and almost flew over the front of the handlebars. I thought I would scream in horror for a second. He put on a helmet after that and my secret presence got to remain a secret.

When the sun shuffles behind the trees enough to make it harder to see, he shuts off the bike and props it up on a metal stand. My feet tap against the railing. I want to talk to him, learn his name, get to know him. Yelling from the balcony hardly seems like the way to make a good first impression. It's almost dark so I have no reason to be casually walking around outside so I could “bump” into him. Leaning into my beanbag, I think. And then I cough. It's accidental at first, a piece of dust caught in my throat, but then it gives me an idea.

I suck in a deep breath and force myself to cough again. It sounds unconvincingly fake and worse, he doesn't notice it. He keeps working on his bike, the back tire is off now and he's holding the chain in his hand. He takes off his shirt and uses it to wipe the sweat from his forehead. Oh my god, oh my god. Ian doesn't look like that with no shirt on. I walk back into my room, pace in front of the mirrored dresser. What can I do to get his attention?

Mom's childhood bookshelf displays her collection of snow globes, each cheesier than the one before it. It would be a shame if one fell off the balcony…

“Oh my god, no!” My mouth stays open. My hand grasps my chest. I lean over the railing, seeing all of the broken pieces. Pretend to actually give a damn about them. “This sucks,” I say, louder than a normal person would talk. I run my hand through my hair, try to look dejected and sneak a glance in his direction. He's watching me from the overturned plastic bucket he's using as a chair. Bingo.

I run through the house, down the stairs and out into the yard. Dropping to my knees, I pick up the pieces of the snow globe and turn them over in my hand. The ground crunches behind me. I whip around, faking surprise.

“Hi,” he says. He does a little hand wave.

“Hello.” I stand up and shake his outstretched hand. “I'm Bayleigh.” It's warm and kind of sweaty.

“I'm Jace. What happened?”

“I dropped it, and it rolled off.” I let the pieces fall back onto the grass, frowning. “It's definitely not repairable.”

“That blows,” he says. “Do you collect snow globes?”

“It was my mom's. That room was hers and it still has all of her stuff in it.”

He looks up at the open balcony doors, then back at me. His eyes are green. “So this is your grandparent's house?” he asks. I nod. “I don't think I've seen you around here.”

“I'm just visiting for the summer,” I say. “The whole summer,” I add with a groan.

“The whole summer in this hick town? Welcome to my nightmare.” We laugh, and he has no idea how much his presence is going to make my summer a whole lot better.

“There's really nothing to do here,” I say. “What are your plans for tonight?”

He shrugs. “I'm just going to watch HBO.”

“I love HBO, but my grandparents don't have cable,” I say. I've never actually watched HBO, but I bet I would like it. Especially with Jace.

He chews on his lip, deciding I guess, if he should take my bait or not. He takes it. “Want to come watch it?”

Instead of showing how excited I am, I shrug. “Sure.”

His house looks just like my grandparent's house on the inside. Oldish and full of knick-knacks, including a stuffed deer head mounted on top of the fireplace. He catches me looking around the living room and probably notices the cringe on my face.

“Yeah, umm I didn't decorate the place,” he says, motioning to the stuffed quail on the mantle. He opens the fridge and takes out a Coke. “You want a drink? I've got Coke, Mountain Dew, sweet tea…”

“Coke is cool, thanks.” He tosses a cold can to me. I wait a second to open it so it won't explode. “So if you didn't decorate the place, who did?”

“My grandfather.” He plops into the recliner and I sit on the black leather couch closest to him.

“Do you live with him?” Judging from the Grandpa/Cop talk earlier, Jace's grandfather is dead. But I'm not about to act like I already know that. He shakes his head, looking uncomfortable when he says, “He died a few years ago, cancer. Left me the whole house and everything he owned.” He opens his arms wide, gesturing to the house around us.

“I'm sorry for your loss,” I say.

He shrugs. “Eh, I never really knew him that well. Him and my dad had a falling out and they never spoke, so I dunno.”

“Wow, he left everything to you and you didn't even know him?”

“Well he had no one else in his life,” Jace says.

“And you just live here without changing anything?” I pop open my Coke. He's drinking from his can and his eyes dart over to me while the can is still to his mouth. It's cute.

“Nah, I live in California. I just came here for the summer. Take inventory of what is now mine and all…” he trails off and I decide to drop it. Besides, I don't want to know about his dead grandfather anyway. I want to know about him. The living, breathing, super sexy guy sitting across from me.

“So you're from the West Coast and you like dirt bikes.” I smile. I try to make it a coy, sexy smile but I don't know if it works or not.

“It's a little more than like, girl. It's my entire life.” He sounds way too serious to be joking, but sports can't be people's entire lives, can they?

“What do you mean?”

He flips through the channel guide on the TV. “This movie is hilarious, wanna watch?”

I nod. I'm always down for a funny movie. “So what do you mean?” I ask again. He looks at me in this weird way, like he doesn't trust me. And it's kind of insulting because I'm in his house, I should be the untrusting one here, not the tall muscley guy. The silence gets long and awkward. “Okay fine, don't tell me.” I look at the TV and not at him.

He leans forward in his chair, clasping his hands together. “Sorry, I know that's rude of me but I'm not in the habit of telling people about my career right now.”

“Career? Yeah you should definitely tell me,” I say with a smile and a lighthearted laugh hoping it will make him tell me his deep dark secret. “You can’t possibly be old enough to have a career.”

He makes this what-the-hell face and spills, “I race motocross for a living. You can go pro at eighteen. It's my first year of being a pro. You know, getting paid to ride.”

“Wow, so you're like really good?” I ask. He makes a half-frown and nods, the kind of thing people do when they aren't too sure of themselves. He's modest I guess. “So is it the off season?”

“Not exactly,” he says. There's finality in his voice and I know the conversation is over for now.

We watch a movie in what is mostly silence and then he shows me around the house. I wonder if my grandparents are wondering where I am. It's creepy how he has left his grandfather's room completely the way it was before he died, walker in the corner and pills on the nightstand. He says he wants to contact the local church to see if anyone wants to come get the stuff. He doesn't know what to do with it.

Then he shows me his room. It looks more like a teenager's room, minus the suitcases of clothes. He's hung up posters of rock bands, and a few of swimsuit babes. There's dirty clothes all over the place and a silver Macbook on his bed. Next to that is his cell phone. I snap back to reality in a microsecond. Not reality like life, but reality like remembering that I am in this hellhole of a summer of being grounded without a cell phone or computer and there is now both right in front of me.

“Jace, I know we don't know each other very well, but do you think I could please, please borrow your phone to call my friend real fast?” I beg him.

He nods. “Sure, knock yourself out.”

I grab his phone and dial Becca's number. “Thanks so much, I'll only be a second. It's just that my phone…broke…and I haven't been able to call my best friend for days.”

He smiles and holds out his hand to shush me. “Yeah, it's cool. I'll just be in the living room when you're done.”

“Thanks,” I say again. Press send. Becca says hello more high pitched than normal, confused about the random number calling her.

 ”Hey, it's me.”

“Bayleigh? Where are you? Did you lose your phone again?” God her voice reminds me of home. I laugh, like a mad woman. I am so happy to hear her voice.

“No, you're never going to believe this shit. Mom took away my phone.”

“No fucking way! That's weak.”

“It gets worse,” I say. “She sent me to my grandparent's house for the whole damn summer.” There's silence for a minute, she's totally speechless and I don't blame her. This is almost too shitty to believe.

“Dude,” she says. “I'm sorry. I thought you were pissed about Ian and just ignoring the world.”

“Nah, I'm grounded. Wait – what do you mean about Ian?”

There is an awful, gut-wrenching pain in her voice. “You don't know yet…”

“I don't know what?” I shout, probably loud enough for Jace to hear. “What don't I know?”

“Stacia, you know that girl from the party?” she says slowly. Very, very slowly.

“Yes, I fucking know her, now tell me!” God, I hate being titillated.

“She updated her Facebook to being in a relationship...”

“And…?” I say, my heart beating rapidly beneath my chest.

Her voice is sad. “With Ian.”

“Guuhhat?” Jace's IPhone weighs a thousand pounds in my hand.

“I'm sorry, Bay, I really am.” Her voice seems far away. Three seconds go by and I take a deep breath. I guess I shouldn't be surprised. Of course he wouldn't wait for me to get back. I mumble some kind of goodbye and hang up the phone, using all of my willpower not to throw it across the room.

The wooden doorframe squeaks and Jace leans against it. “Something wrong?” he asks.

I turn to face him, my jaw set tightly so I won't cry. “Nope.”