Chapter 28
We wake up a tangled mess of sweaty limbs.
Apparently Willa’s AC unit wasn’t built for two.
The windows are slightly foggy from our breath, and the sheets are covered in a thin veil of sweat.
I try to quietly remove my legs from where they are enmeshed with his.
Reid is still sleeping, and we don’t need to be at the track for a few more hours.
He looks so peaceful, angelic even. His hair is messier than usual, spilling over his strong brows and into his ears.
I never noticed how thick his eyelashes are.
My arm is stuck under his head. As I yank it free, he nuzzles closer to me.
Reid’s head falls against my chest, and it shocks me how natural it feels.
Involuntarily, my fingers run through his locks like I’ve daydreamed about countless times.
It feels better than I could have imagined.
My mind immediately drifts to how it would feel to tug at these strands while he kissed me.
I should have let him kiss me when he wanted to in Whistler, even if it wasn’t for the right reasons—at least then I would get to say I know what it feels like to kiss Reid Hastings.
If I lay here any longer I’m never going to get up. I’ll gladly live here forever in this stolen moment. I feel a flicker against my collarbone, like a butterfly. His hair is light and fluffy, and it tickles me as he moves. I snake my arm out from under him and maneuver a pillow to replace my body.
I have to jump over him to get out of bed. Gently shifting my weight, I hitch my leg up over his hip until I’m straddling him. His loud yawn fills the van. When his eyes meet mine, I’ve been caught. I didn’t mean to end up here on top of him like this, and my chest caves as I suck in a breath.
Reid’s eyes are firm, focusing on the space where our bodies are connected before drifting up to meet my own. His voice is raspy. “Good morning, Adelaide.”
My lip is quivering. I bite down on it, stuttering. “Morning.”
I shift slightly on top of him, needing desperately to remove myself from his hips, but I feel stuck here. There’s a severe disconnect between my head and my heart, and it’s making me act like an idiot. Something slightly hard pushes against me—it continues getting harder when I shift again.
I jump off of him and the bed as soon as I discern what it is. It’s a natural thing that happens in the morning to guys, I know, but the stupid hopeful part of me wonders if it had anything to do with me being in his lap.
Once I catch a glimpse of my knotted hair and plain face, all of that hope is gone. I start getting ready, but Reid is still laying there. If I can’t stay horizontal, then neither should he. He’s making himself way too comfortable in my bed—the sight makes my stomach lurch.
“Where’s my special breakfast, Reid?”
He groans and it reverberates through me. “I forgot I offered that.”
“No, you promised. Since I so kindly shared my bed with you.”
Reid is sitting up now, but he has the spare pillow held tight over his hips. “Can I go shower?”
I stare at him. “When have you ever asked before? Just go.”
His eyes dart between me and the pillow. “Can you, uh,” he’s blushing, “turn around?”
It finally dawns on me, and I must seem so naive. I pace back and forth across the van thinking about how I have to wash those sheets tonight after the competition. There’s no way I’ll be able to sleep with his scent clinging around me.
A tiny elastic snaps against my thumb as I secure my second braid.
Reid steps out with a white towel slung low on his hips.
He stands behind me, so close I can feel the towel brushing the back of my leg.
Heat is radiating off of him and onto me.
I turn around to ask what he’s doing, but he cuts me off. “You should wear it down til we ride.”
He tugs both braids free and runs his big hands through my hair. “Hey! I just finished doing that.”
Reid shrugs. “I’m just saying. You look even sexier when you let that mane free.”
My heart skips a beat. Did he just call me sexy? Surely I misheard.
I decide to appease him and let my hair free.
He disappears to his own van before I can reply.
He’s half naked in the forest, wearing my slippers, which are way too small for him, and looking more at home than he ever has.
I’m shamelessly admiring his perfectly toned back until I see him start limping again.
Reid turns to the side, and I duck down before he can catch me staring.
My eyes peek up under the edge of the curtain, and I see him lean down to look at his knee.
I knew it…his ACL is bothering him again. His last couple of rides make more sense now.
I’m going to try and bring it up during breakfast if I get the chance. It might re-open the rift between us, but I care more about his health than I care about my comfort.
I’ve been so busy being anxious about Reid I’ve barely had time to let myself worry about the competition. Now that I’m here, my veins are pulsing, but the anxiety doesn’t hit like I expect it to.
Women are going first again today. My thoughts drift to Chloe as I ride the gondola up the mountain alone, but instead of letting her situation fill me with stress, I focus on my gratitude for being where she can’t.
She keeps reminding me of it too, messaging me, “do a backflip for me Baddie,” before each ride.
I promised her I would try, so I do this time—and it works. It’s merely a practice run, so the pressure isn’t really on. We’ll see if I can do it when the drones are following me.
It’s the first time I’ve landed any sort of flip on a competition track. It feels good, better than good.
I’m determined to do it again. This is my last shot to prove myself before the season is over. I want to go out with a bang.
When my plate is drawn first, I’m ecstatic. I’ve learned I race better when I have less time to get tangled up in my head. My therapist is on leave this week. At first that had me panicking, but I’m grateful—I either do this on my own, or I don’t do it at all.
Something I’ve been doing lately is indulging my anxiety—letting myself play out the absolute worst case scenario. When I’m done, I remind myself how unlikely that scenario is, and then all the likely ones don’t seem so bad.
The fear isn’t going anywhere—if I want to do this, I have to learn to do it while scared.
I stand looking down at the trail, thinking about my body mangled and busted in a hospital bed like Chloe.
I think about going to sleep and never waking up again.
Then, I think about making it down the trail and going home to Colorado feeling proud of myself.
The risk is worth it, like it usually is.
So, I’ll do it scared…yet again.
I wonder if it’ll ever get easier.
Robbie announces my name, and my front tire starts dipping down the trail. The dirt is dry and dusty, and clouds of it flow behind me. The faster I ride, the more I can hear my tires digging in, and it grounds me.
I bridge the first canyon gap with ease—not anything crazy, but my speed is perfect, and my timing couldn’t be any better.
The rest of the track plays in my mind like a movie.
My nerves are starting to get to me, crawling up into my throat, demanding to be listened to. They’re going to need to wait.
Slowing down a fraction, I lift my head to suck in a deeper breath.
It’s sticky and somehow dry at the same time.
The sunbeams are hitting the dust, making the trail look like something out of a dream.
I hit the rock garden with such precision there’s no need for any tricks.
My tire glides over every rock perfectly, and I don’t hesitate for even a second.
A jump is coming up. I pick up speed and let myself relish in the wind.
On my inhale, my front tire rolls up the incline hard and fast. I squat down and pre-load my suspension.
At just the right second, I commit, and as my back tire hits the air, I lean backwards as far as I can without letting go of my handlebars.
I forbid myself from fear. Backflips are either fully committed or fully fucked, so I trust my timing is perfect and let the flip take me.
It feels like I’m upside-down for five full minutes. My feet are nailed tight to my pedals. I’m surprised by how easy this feels. I don’t know why I’ve never tried this before in a real ride. It’s incredible…like I’m flying.
The rotation completes without me doing anything.
It’s natural, like this is my thousandth flip, not my seventh.
For three glorious seconds, I’m floating as my bike rights itself and I prepare to land.
My body weight is central and I loosen up my joints to prepare for impact.
I pull the bars into my chest to make sure I clear the lip of the landing.
After that, the rest of the race passes by like it’s happening to me. I speed down the trail, letting the rumbling sounds of the crowd guide me. I can’t believe I just did that.
As I cross the finish line, I immediately look for Reid. I throw both arms up in the air as I slow to a stop. Everyone is cheering—loudly, the same way they do for the boys—and I’m shocked by how much I like it.
Finally, I spot Reid. He jumps over the fence line, ignoring everyone who’s telling him he has to stay behind it. As soon as he reaches me, he throws me up into his arms and twirls us in a circle.
There’s a lump in my throat. I can’t believe I did it. For once, I trusted myself, and it paid off.
He whispers near my ear, “I’m so proud of you, Addie.” I can barely hear it through the hard shell of my helmet, but my stomach still clenches.
I’m on top of the world. He drops me a little, but his arms catch just under my ass, and I relish in the contact. As I’m about to pile on another risk and crash my lips into his, a reporter comes over, shoving a camera in our faces.
“Baddie Addie in the flesh folks!”