Chapter 18
Reid’s familiar knock shakes me from my slumber, and I groan loudly. The noise gives me away, he knows I’m awake. I hear the key turning in the door. I start to scramble—I’m not wearing any pj’s, just a loose bralette.
He cannot see me like this.
Before he enters my bedroom, if you could call it that, I manage to grab a dusty flannel and drape it over my shoulders. He’s standing at the end of my bed, looking at me while I fumble with the buttons to cover up my scantily clad chest. Reid scolds me, “Addie, let’s go before it gets hot.”
He won’t look at me. Instead, he toys with a piece of rubber between the door and the cabinet. I keep trying to catch his eye, but he refuses to look up and meet my gaze. I need him to get out of here so I can put some damn pants on.
I’m not sure if he’s intentionally being dense or what, but he is not getting the message. The embarrassment is evident in my voice. “I need to get dressed.”
Reid continues to play with that rubber seal—he still doesn’t understand. I’m going to have to spell it out for him, I guess.
“Reid, get out!”
His gaze is locked on my exposed collar bone. In a last ditch effort to diffuse the awkwardness, I chuck my pillow right at his head. Reid ducks and stares into my eyes intensely. His pupils are blown as he says, “Hey! That was mean.”
I lean in, trying to see whatever it is that’s looming in his hazel eyes.
Defensively, he stumbles out of the van, but he’s not fast enough for me to miss the satisfying blush that spreads across his face.
I’m not sure I’ve ever seen him blush. That shade of pink looks so alluring against his rough stubble.
I’m sure his face is warm to the touch too, just like mine is when I blush.
I hit my head on my kitchen cabinet twice while trying to get ready. Living in tight quarters is already starting to get old. I’m running out of space for my frustrations.
Last night, I was up late talking with Callum.
We finally got past the basic ‘get to know you’ questions, and I let myself enjoy it for once.
I’m paying for it now, though. I’m already in short supply of air, and the run hasn’t even started yet.
This workout set is my least favorite one—the shorts are too short and the tank top is too low cut—but we haven’t had a chance to do laundry all week, so I’m running low on inventory.
This is our last torture session before the event.
Reid says it’s time to ‘taper,’ or whatever that means. We’re supposed to take the rest of the week off and let all the work we’ve been doing sink into our bones.
It’s hot as fuck, but at least it’s not sticky with humidity.
Our run feels easier—the elevation is lower, and I’ve built up endurance over the last few weeks.
Today we’re running on an actual trail instead of up and down a random side road.
It’s so beautiful I almost can’t comprehend it.
The sun is hitting the mountainside so perfectly, it’s hypnotic.
Tonight I have my last therapy session before The Whistler Classic.
I already know she’s going to make me visualize myself up at the drop in and work through my fear.
It’s helping, but I hate it. In only a few weeks, she’s helped me connect to my body more.
Anxiety feels more like an annoying coworker instead of my boss now.
I’m working on trusting myself—trusting my legs to support me and my bike, trusting my instincts to choose the right path. At least that’s what I’m telling myself. It’s never been a question of whether or not I’m a good rider, I know that I am. My issue is having any personality up there.
It’s hard for me to take a risk both physically and emotionally, to do anything other than go fast.
Style and personality are exactly what gets you invited to Red Bull Rampage, and I want that, so I have to give it my all. My therapist was pretty harsh, but her words stuck with me. ‘If you’re going to die, you’re going to die. So there’s no use worrying about it.’
She’s right. I signed up for a dangerous sport where death is a very real possibility. I’m at a crossroads where I either make peace with that or I move on. I’m not ready to move on.
I’ve talked to Callum a bit about my performance anxiety. He keeps assuring me that all riders go through this. I’m not sure I believe him, but the kind words help either way.
Apparently last season he was working through some major anxiety and almost gave up the sport entirely.
I never noticed—not that I was watching, but I always got the sense that I was the only rider up there with any sort of fear.
Looking back on it, that’s a pretty fucking self-absorbed take, even if it is fueled by apprehension.
My breath is starting to escape me. I wonder if my anxiety is actually getting better or if I’m simply too exhausted to feel anything aside from soreness.
Reid is a ways ahead of me. He’s always fucking ahead of me.
I’m gasping as he plops himself down on a rock which resembles a bench. His effortless smile drives me to sprint the last stretch. He’s mocking me, “Come on, Addie!”
My shorts are riding up, and I’m suddenly self conscious of the way my thighs jiggle as I run. I strategically rest my elbows on the bench behind him so that he doesn’t see me address my wardrobe malfunction—he does anyway.
Reid flips around to face me, his long legs curled in a criss-cross position. I tug the edge of my shorts down for the tenth time, but they instantly ride up again when I stand up straight. With a frustrated sigh, I use my breath to move the flyway hairs out of my eyes.
His throat is bobbing. I don’t know why he’s looking at me so incredulously. I’m dripping in sweat—that must be it. “What? You’re sweaty too,” I defend.
“Uh…” He swallows hard. “That’s not it—”
Before he can finish his thought, I’m rounding the corner of the bench to sit next to him. He’s probably going to comment on how these shorts are too short or something. I don’t wanna hear it. Our sweaty thighs brush for a second, and I suddenly wish I had worn pants.
The view is phenomenal. We’re staring at an alpine lake that’s so clear it looks like glass. It’s that perfect Gatorade blue that makes me want to take a sip. Reid and I make eye contact for a second, and I know we have the exact same idea.
We break out into a full sprint, racing for the icy depths.
He beats me—of course he does. He’s splashing water at me before I can get past my knees, and its chilling.
The sun is deceptive, this water is freezing.
A cursory memory flashes before my eyes—the last time we were in an alpine lake together.
It was only a couple of months ago, but it feels like it’s been so much longer. Everything was lighter then.
The cold brings me back into the present, the harsh reality that is the unease between us.
I knew it would be freezing, cradled high up in the Coast Mountains like this, but knowing and feeling are two different things.
Once I gather the courage, I submerge myself.
Every nerve in my body feels like it just guzzled a glass of ice water.
We break through the surface at exactly the same time.
Reid shakes out his hair like a dog, and I rake my hands through my hair to make sure I don’t look like a George Washington impersonator.
Reid is staring at my chest again, and I realize my nipples are rock hard.
I cross my arms over them and scold Reid, “Eyes up here.”
He laughs, and it sounds sweet and gruff all at the same time. I’ve missed that sound. “Yes Ma’am.”
It almost feels like we’re flirting. If we were two different people maybe we would be.
Maybe he’d throw me over his shoulder and we’d make out on a picnic blanket.
Maybe we’d bake in the mountain sun until our clothes were dry and our bones were warm.
Maybe then we’d run back to our vans, laughing and smiling the whole way down.
That’s not our reality though. The truth of it all depresses me a little. This feels like a backslide. I’ve been doing so well, focusing on what’s within my control and working for it, but one lingering glance from Reid and I’m tumbling down into desperation again. Pathetic.
Reid splashes behind me, but I ignore him and post myself on a rock to sunbathe. He ushers himself out of the lake and rips off his soaking wet shirt. He grunts as he does it, drawing my attention to him briefly before I realize that’s exactly what he wants, so I look away.
Light drops of water hit my leg as he shakes his hair out once more. This time it annoys me. He looks at me with that signature smirk. “Why’d you leave me all alone?”
He’s trying to hang onto the moment, but it’s gone. We should let it go with dignity.
Reid takes my shrug for what it is, a beacon of indifference. The wall is back up between us. I think I like it, it feels safe here. I’ll focus on keeping Reid out and learning to let Callum in.