Keanna

 

The shrill ringing of my cell phone makes me jolt awake, erasing all traces of whatever dream I was having. With heavy eyes, I reach over and look at my phone.

It’s a telemarketer. Ugh.

I hit ignore and drop my phone and plop back onto my bed. It’s just after midnight and I’m exhausted. I used to be able to stay up late and watch TV with no problem, but now that I’m working at The Track so much, I pass out around nine.

I yawn and turn on my side, ready to go back to sleep. Then a low rumbling sound comes through my windows. It’s barely there, but I’d recognize it anywhere.

Someone’s riding a dirt bike next door.

I look back at my phone. I don’t have any missed texts from Jett, but he probably wouldn’t risk waking me up by texting me this late. I crawl out of bed and slip on flip flops.

I’m wearing spandex workout shorts that barely cover my butt and one of Jett’s Team Loco T-shirts that does cover my butt. I take my phone to use as a flashlight as I maneuver through the house and out the back door. The dirt bike is louder out here. The lights on the track are still off, but I can see the bike zoom around in the glow of the full moon overhead.

It's Jett alright—his bike soars over jumps with grace and agility. I watch him ride as I walk through the dew-covered grass to the track next door. I climb up on the bleachers and sit at the very top. The cool aluminum seats send a chill down my legs and I tug on my shirt to cover more of my thighs.

Even in the summer, there’s a gentle breeze at night time. It’s warm, but it’s nicer than the harsh sun in the daytime. I take in the smell of the grass and the exhaust from Jett’s bike as he makes another loop around the track.

He seems determined, riding with his whole body attuned to the bike. He’s fun to watch in a race, and even more fun when he’s the only one on the track. It’s like he’s one with his bike. I can see why he loves this sport so much.

After half an hour, Jett slows the bike down and rolls over the final jump near the finish line, which is directly in front of the bleachers. He pulls off his goggles and hangs them on his arm. He rides his bike off the track and parks it just a few feet away from the bleachers, leaning it up against a tree.

I know he can’t see me and I think about keeping quiet and just watching him for a while. But then I quickly feel like a stalker so I call out, “Hi there.”

His helmeted head jerks my way.

“Hi there yourself,” he says with a playful tone in his voice.

I get up and walk down the bleachers, stopping on the bottom row. Jett removes his helmet and his gloves, leaving them on the bike seat when he joins me.

His hair is sweaty and he’s breathing heavily, but he grins at me. “Hi babe.”

I let his sweaty hands grab my sides and pull me up against him. I’m still on the bottom bleacher row and he’s on the ground, so we’re the same height. I grab his shoulders and make a face. “You’re all sweaty.”

“I thought you liked me sweaty,” he says, winking at me under the moonlight.

“Ew,” I say, shaking my head.

He laughs and throws his arms around me. I would scream at the grossness of his sweat all over me, but it’s late at night and I don’t want our parents thinking someone’s being murdered out here. I giggle instead.

“Grossss,” I say, letting him pull me on top of his lap as he sits on the bleacher seat.

“You were asleep, so I thought I’d come ride.”

I lean my head against his chest and stare up at the stars. You can see them so well here in the middle of nowhere. “Have you ridden at all this week?” I ask.

He shakes his head, then rests his chin on top of my hair. “Nope.” He sighs.

“You won the last three races,” I say. “You’ll win this next one, too.”

“We’ll see about that.”

We’re still like this for a few minutes. Jett smells a little like sweat, and although it is kind of gross, it’s a smell I’ve grown used to from being with him at the track. I know that underneath his jersey, his muscles are all bumped and his veins are protruding and he looks like a god. I can handle a little sweat for a boyfriend who is so unbelievably sexy.

“You should probably go back to sleep,” he says. He reaches up and brushes hair off my neck before kissing it.

“How am I supposed to go back to sleep if you’re doing something like that?” I ask, nearly breathless from the feeling of his lips on my skin.

He chuckles. “You could come sleep in my room,” he whispers, kissing me again, this time just above my collar bone.

My whole body tingles. “You know I have to help with the baby in the morning…” I say, but my argument is hard to hold on to.

“I understand,” he says, wrapping his arms around me and squeezing into a tight backwards hug. “I’m gonna head inside to shower. I don’t suppose you’d want to come with?”

I stand up and turn around to face him. “Well you got me all sweaty, so technically you owe me a shower.”

A devilish look flashes across his eyes. Even in the dim light of the moon it’s unmistakable. “Come with me,” he says, taking my hand as he stands up. “I’ll get you the shower you deserve.”

I giggle and follow him across the yard to his house. We walk inside quietly and pad up the stairs to Jett’s bedroom without making a noise so we don’t wake up his baby sister. Usually she sleeps in Jett’s parent’s room downstairs, but we don’t want to risk anything.

Upstairs, Jett has the whole place to himself. His room is larger than my own parent’s master bedroom and he has his own bathroom as well.

He slips into his bathroom to crank up the hot water in the shower. I stay behind, looking around his room. Jett has a large bed and then a game room area off to the side, with a couch and a big TV and every gaming console a guy could want. I gaze around, taking in how weirdly clean everything is. Jett’s room usually has at least an old T-shirt tossed on the floor, or ruffled sheets on the bed. Something to make the place look lived in. Instead, he has a suitcase and his gear bag next to the door, and all of his main stuff is inside. Since he’s traveling every weekend, he doesn’t bother unpacking. And we’ve been so busy at The Track this week, he probably only comes in here to sleep.

I walk over to his desk where there’s a framed photo of us. I smile, knowing he has another copy of this picture in his wallet.

“You’re in luck,” Jett calls out from the bathroom. “Your favorite towel is clean!”

“It better be!” I say, joining him in the bathroom. He hands me the folded pink towel. It’s plush like a bathrobe and I brought it over from my house months ago and then never took it back home. Sometimes he uses it and I always tease him when there’s a pink towel hanging on the towel rack.

“I think the water is hot enough,” Jett says, peaking into the glass shower door. He pulls off his motocross jersey and tosses it toward the hamper in the corner. I watch his tanned skin, the bulging muscles of his arms, as he unzips his riding pants and pulls them down. It’s sexy, no doubt, but a little silly because under the pants he wears spandex underwear that go down to his knees and then knee pads and shin guards.

While he takes them all off, I undress quickly, tossing my clothes into his hamper. I’ll just steal more of his to wear back home tonight. I know he wants me to stay over, but I can’t. As soon as the baby wakes up, I’ll need to help my mom get breakfast ready and get Elijah dressed for the day. She’s entirely too busy working at our track while my dad and Jett’s dad take over the other two tracks. My parents have given me so much in the last couple of years, and I’m not about to let them down when they need me.

“How is it possible that you got hotter since the last time I saw you naked?” Jett says. He’s naked now too, his waist creased around where the elastic of his underwear left an imprint. He’s already erect and it makes me blush.

“Shut up,” I say, moving to the shower. Steam fills the air and covers the glass doors. He’s seen me naked a million times, but I’m still self-conscious about it. I slip into his shower and close the door behind me.

Jett comes in a few seconds later, his hands finding my waist and his lips finding mine.

I close my eyes and let the water wash over us while we make out. Then I grab a bar of soap rub it all up and down his chest to get rid of the sweat.

“Once we’re clean we can make out,” I say, rolling my eyes as Jett pulls me up against him.

“I don’t want to be clean,” he growls in my ear just before running his tongue down my earlobe. “I want to be dirty.”

I laugh as chills trail down my skin in every place he kisses. “Let’s get clean first, and then we’ll be as dirty as you want.”