I’m refreshed the next morning. Before I’ve even poured a bowl of cereal, I feel like a new man already. Maybe telling her off was exactly what I needed, the last piece in the puzzle of starting over my life. The drive to the bike shop takes forever, especially in this slow ass rental car, but eventually I get there and I get my tire and head home as fast as I can. I’m aching to ride my bike again. I feel useless without it.

I usually have a mechanic at the races, someone we hire to take care of my bikes and fix anything that goes wrong so I can focus only on the races. But out here, I’m all alone and I’m happy my dad made me learn how to take care of a bike myself. A lot of these rich ass idiots from Cali only care about riding the bike, not fixing them. But it’s a skill you need to know. Not to get all philosophical and shit, but knowing how to take your bike apart and then put it back together again makes you one with the bike. You care more about it when you understand how it works.

I quickly change out the popped tire for the new one and then throw on some riding gear. The stuff I wore yesterday smells like a rank ass locker room, so I grab a clean pair of red and black gear from my suitcase. Motocross gear is kind of like a jersey mixed with protective equipment. The pants have breathable areas so you don’t sweat your balls off, but they also have thick patches of leather on the inside so the muffler pipe doesn’t burn your legs. My jersey is mostly a mesh fabric to keep you cool and my last name, Adams, is printed on the back of it.

It feels great to be back out here, soaring over jumps and sliding full throttle around the massive sweeper turn I put at the back of the property. I ride all day, only stopping for lunch and to refill with gas, and then I get back on my bike and ride some more.

At dusk, I figure I can ride a few more laps before it’s too dark to see. And then my chain busts.

Seriously? What else is going to break on this stupid thing? Maybe I’m riding it too hard. Maybe Fate is just being a huge bitch to me right now.

I pull off my shirt and wipe the sweat from my face, then push my bike back up to the house where there’s a porchlight so I can assess the damage. The good news is that I have a new bike chain already, so I won’t have to waste time driving to the nearest shop tomorrow.

I pull off the chain and study it, wondering what made it break. Dirt bike chains are thicker and stronger than regular bicycle chains, but they also go through a lot more damage when riding.

A shadow moves in the upstairs balcony of the house next door. I don’t bother looking over. It’s probably that old guy deciding if he wants to come yell at me again. Then there’s a small crashing sound, like glass breaking, and I still don’t look up.

The shadow talks. “Oh my God, no!”

It’s a female voice, and it sounds like someone younger, not like an old woman. But it also sounded really fake and weird, so I ignore it. Then she talks again. “This sucks!”

She sounds distressed, and I put two and two together. She must have just broken something. I look up, but the shadowy figure has disappeared. A few seconds later, a girl walks out the back door, bending down to where whatever she broke has landed.

I can’t help myself, I walk over there.

“Hi,” I say, waving so she doesn’t get scared out of her mind when she turns and sees some strange dude standing here.

“Hello,” she says, standing and facing me. Oddly, she doesn’t seem surprised at all to see me here. Most girls freak out when guys appear in the dark. We shake hands. “I’m Bayleigh,” she says, her lips twisting into a nervous grin.

My stomach tightens. When I’d heard her cry out, she sounded younger, like a kid. Now I see she’s not a kid at all. She’s my age. And she’s really cute.

But I am not allowed to think that because I’ve sworn off women and dating and everything that goes with them.

“I’m Jace,” I say remembering that we just shook hands. “What happened?”

She cradles some broken glass in her hand. “I dropped it, and it rolled off.” She frowns and tosses the pieces down to where the remnants of a snow globe sit on the concrete. “It’s definitely not repairable.”

“That blows.” I take a deep breath and keep the conversation light. “Do you collect snow globes?”

“It was my mom’s.” She nods toward the room with the balcony. “That room was hers and it still has all of her stuff in it.”

“So this is your grandparent’s house?” I ask.

She nods. This is good, because there’s no way I can spend time thinking about the granddaughter of the guy who hates me. Still, I can’t help myself. I have to keep talking. “I don’t think I’ve seen you around here.”

“I’m just visiting for the summer. The whole summer.” She groans, and I can’t say I blame her. This town sucks.

“The whole summer in this hick town?” I say. “Welcome to my nightmare.”

She laughs, and then I’m laughing too. She’s very adorable when she laughs, but I can’t be thinking that right now.

“There’s really nothing to do here,” she says. “What are your plans for tonight?”

Trying not to think about you, I think. Instead, I shrug and say, “I’m just going to watch HBO.”

“I love HBO, but my grandparents don’t have cable.” She looks so sad, so deprived of such fantastic television. I know I shouldn’t, but I can’t help myself. I ask if she wants to come over and watch it with me.

“Sure,” she says with a shrug. I’m not some kind of girl genius or anything, but it seems like maybe she’s excited about it, but she’s not letting me know. I know where she’s coming from though, because I’m excited she agreed to come over, but I’m not going to show it either.

I take her inside, realizing only a few seconds later that I should have warned her about the state of the place first. “Yeah, umm, I didn’t decorate the place,” I say, nodding toward a taxidermy quail perched on the mantle. The situation is a little awkward so I duck into the kitchen. “You want a drink? I’ve got Coke, Mountain Dew, sweet tea…”

Bayleigh smiles. “Coke is cool, thanks.” I toss her one and then she says, “So if you didn’t decorate the place, who did?”

“My grandfather.” As much as I want to sit next to her on the couch, I slide into the recliner instead so I can keep my distance from this girl who gets a little cuter each time I look over at her. She sits on the couch, choosing the seat that’s far away from me.

“Do you live with him?” she asks.

“He died a few years ago. Cancer.” I gesture toward the room around us. “Left me the whole house and everything he owned.”

She frowns. “I’m sorry for your loss.”

“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,” I say.

“And you just live here without changing anything?” she says, opening her drink.

“Nah, I live in California. I just came here for the summer. Take inventory of what is now mine and all…” I just say some bullshit because I can’t let her know the real reason I’m here.

“So you’re from the west coast and you like dirt bikes.” She smiles, and I’ve seen that smile before. She’s impressed.

“It’s a little more than like, girl. It’s my entire life.” I might get a little too emotional here, but I can’t help it. Motocross is my entire life, and it’s what I’m fighting for.

Her brows pull together. “What do you mean?”

There’s no way I can possibly explain it. I’ll sound like a lunatic with how obsessed I am, or I’ll get angry about Luke or… yeah, I just can’t. I change the channel on the TV and pretend like I’m super invested in it. “This movie is hilarious,” I say. “Want to watch?”

She nods. “So what do you mean?” she asks again. Now almost want to tell her. But I don’t. “Okay fine, don’t tell me,” she says, turning to the TV.

I am a shit bag. I lean forward. “Sorry, I know that’s rude of me, but I’m not in the habit of telling people about my career right now.”

“Career?” she says, lifting an eyebrow. “Yeah, you should definitely tell me.” She giggles and it makes my stomach hurt because she truly is one of those girls who are just adorable no matter what. She’s not even dressed up or covered in makeup, and she’s still so fucking cute. “You can’t possibly be old enough to have a career,” she says.

“I race motocross for a living. You can go pro at eighteen. It’s my first year of being pro.” I lift my chin a little. “You know, getting paid to ride.”

She seems genuinely surprised. “Wow, so you’re like really good?”

I nod, but my self-esteem falters because although I’m fast as hell on a bike, the career part of it is kind of hanging in the balance right now. She must notice the weirdness on my face because she says, “So is it the off season?”

“Not exactly,” I say. I turn back to the television because I am so not talking about this anymore. Everyone else I know already thinks I’m a failure in my career. I don’t really feel like explaining it to yet another person.

After the movie is over, I offer to give her a grand tour of the house. She says yes, which surprises me in a good way. I’d kind of feared she’d immediately go home. I show her around, pointing out weird things I’ve noticed in the time I’ve been here. Like how my grandfather kept every National Geographic magazine for the last twenty years.

When we get to my room, her eyes go wide and she stares at my bed as if she’s never seen something so amazing before.

“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?” she says, her knees bending as she pleads with me.

Kind of weird, but whatever. “Sure,” I say. “Knock yourself out.”

She practically dives toward my phone and begins punching in a number. “Thank you so much. I’ll only be a second. It’s that my phone…broke…and I haven’t been able to call my best friend for days.”

I smile and wave away her excuses. It’s really not a big deal. “Yeah, it’s cool. I’ll just be in the living room when you’re done.”

“Thanks,” she says again. She grins at me and puts the phone to her ear.

I venture back out into the living room, but a few minutes later I hear her gasp as if she’s really upset. I can’t help myself. I walk back to my room and lean against the door. She spins around when she hears me approach. Anger is etched across her face, my iPhone clenched tightly in her hand.

“Something wrong?” I ask.

She looks me dead in the eyes, and she lies to me. “Nope.”