Chapter 6 August, Moto Club, North Carolina #2
After a few laps, Tate felt really comfortable with the bike and he let it rip through the course.
He throttled hard to see what it could really do when he went all out.
He found he was impressed with the speed and handling when he let himself go.
Joy bubbled up in his stomach as he flew over the jumps, gunning for as much air time as he could grab.
The loamy smell of dirt and pine mingled with synthetic motor oil and gas.
That made him feel more at home than he ever had in Donny's perfumed condo.
Tate gave up counting the laps and just listened to his body.
His back stretched and his thighs burned, particularly when he plowed through the whoops McAllister style, really pumping for speed.
He'd learned that trick from his friend.
Being taller than other riders would allow him an advantage, if he learned to use it.
He missed racing against Davey at The Ranch, his friend's home track.
That had been fun and educational. Even though The Ranch would be better than the race camp, it was still one more thing he couldn't control.
Davey and Tyler were honeymooning on some tropical island, while Tate dug into the ruts of the camp track.
He wanted to feel jealous and bitter, but he loved the dirt too much.
When his arms started tingling and feeling weak, he decided to stop. He slowed the bike around the last stretch to wind down. When he stopped, back at the beginning, another racer waited there for the track. Tate hit the kill switch, silencing his machine and stared at the other rider.
“Hey, nice riding.” The guy was tall, but not as tall as Tate, with pitch black hair that had one thick lock of purple hanging over his eye.
He had decent size gauges in his ears, bright blue eyes that stood out against that dark hair, and a smattering of freckles across his wide cheeks.
He held his helmet under one arm and the handle bar of the bike he straddled with his other hand.
Goggles hung backward around his neck. All and all, a pretty cute guy, even though Tate out grew the urge to crush on other racers.
Tate pulled off his own goggles and helmet. “Yeah?”
“Yeah. Nice to meet you. I'm Bryce Nickel,” he said as if Tate should know who he was. The kid seemed a bit too young to have that kind of ego, but this was motocross and every rider needed that self-worth just to compete consistently against other riders with egos just as big or bigger.
“Tate Jordan,” he answered smugly, knowing the kid really would know who he was.
Bryce's eyes widen with excitement. “No shit!”
“No, no shit,” Tate laughed. He still wasn't used to the strange responses he got from fans, not that Bryce was a fan. He was just some kid coming up through the ranks.
“Oh, wow. I'm, uh, uh, just starting. I'll be riding in the 250 West this next year.”
Tate nodded. “Really? How old are you?”
“I'll be eighteen before the season starts.” He flipped his head back, knocking that long purple strand out of his eyes, just to have it slide right back down. His jaw tightened with more of that self-important attitude, but Tate kind of liked it. “I'm really good.”
Tate wondered if Bryce was still talking about racing with the way his eyes cut through him. “I'll bet,” Tate answered with a wink. “Wanna race?”
Bryce nodded, eager to show Tate what he had on the track.
Tate wanted to play with him on and off the track, but safety was always first, so he made them ride the track slowly as he pointed out deep ruts and soft spots.
Bryce seemed to appreciate the tips. Then, back at the start, he took off, gunning it hard down the straightway.
Tate laughed and followed quickly. He had a bigger bike that was more powerful than Bryce's, so he caught up quick and passed him on a jump.
The rest of the lap, Tate played cat and mouse with him, but took notice of Bryce's skill.
He hadn't been exaggerating, the kid was good, and in a couple years, he'd be up on the 450s for sure.
The second lap, Tate didn't fool around.
Despite his muscles getting sore, he drove himself harder.
He could feel the pressure of Bryce following behind, hungry to show his skills.
If the kid had been on a bigger bike, he would have really given Tate a challenge.
When they finally stopped, Tate felt compelled to tell him. “You were pretty good out there.”
Bryce pulled off his helmet and shoved his goggles in them. “You ran circles around me.”
“Yeah, but I'm on a brand spanking new KTM 450. What are you riding?”
“Two year old Yamaha. It's all I can afford. At least until my team sends up my new bike.” Bryce looked down at his bike, frowning.
“Dude. It's a two year old 250. There's no way you could keep up. But, you put on a damn good show. You've got skill. I'm shaking in my boots.” He kicked one up to show him. “In two years, you're going to be gunning me down hard on a 450.”
One eyebrow lifted under that purple hair. “You think?” Bryce looked so vulnerable and sincere, Tate wanted to kiss him. He shoved that thought down hard, though. It would be pretty stupid to have a fling with another racer right then.
“Yeah. I totally think.” His stomach growled hard, interrupting the conversation, making Bryce laugh out loud. “Yeah, I'm starving. Wanna go grab some chow? Or do you need to keep practicing?”
“Nah, let's go eat. I'm not even supposed to be here.” Bryce gave him a sly smile, making those deep blue eyes twinkle. “I heard some hot shot Supercross star was going to be around, so I gave my coach the slip and stalked the track.”
Tate's stomach fluttered with Bryce's admission. He was totally getting under Tate's skin with his cute freckles and arrogant little smirk. “Let's go then.”