Chapter 22
Chapter twenty-two
First Race, Anaheim
Bryce should have been concentrating on the race.
His heat was coming up and he needed to focus, but all he could think about was seeing Tate walking with that huge dude and wondering if they were together.
He watched them go to the Apex tent. Knowing that they all had what he wanted boiled under his skin.
Why couldn't he just get over it? Why had he freaked out so horribly when he could have had Tate Jordan for a boyfriend? One kiss and he was running for the door. In all honesty, it hadn't been the kiss. He could have kissed Tate on and on forever, amen! But, Tate had pushed for more than that and Bryce hadn’t been ready. Still wasn’t ready.
He’d been too worried that Tate only cared about sex and not him. But, he'd been such an idiot. Tate wouldn't have pushed too hard and he wouldn't have gone around telling anyone. Not like Warren Tanner had. That sonofabitch with his lies.
Bryce screwed his eyes shut tight. He didn't even want to think about how Warren had threatened him and when Bryce called his bluff, the bastard told everyone at the race club that Bryce had slept with Tate. So, not true. He only wished he'd slept with Tate. Sort of.
None of that mattered, because word got back to his parents and now they were watching him like hawks.
They didn't care that he was gay, but they didn't want him ruining his career in Supercross by getting involved in inappropriate relationships.
As if! That meant he wasn't allowed to talk to Tate or go anywhere near the Apex crew.
The worst part of it all was that he genuinely liked Tate.
It had been fun hanging out with him and he'd loved the attention. Now, he couldn't have anything. Besides, Tate had never been anything but nice. It was that stupid Tanner dude that had fucked everything up with his threats and stupid emails. The fucker had even sent a few texts, and how he’d gotten Bryce’s phone number, he had no clue.
“Hey East Coast, you all right?”
Bryce opened his eyes, hearing his nickname.
George, his manager, had started calling him that recently, and it was sticking with others in the crew.
He hadn’t known it was odd for a racer from South Carolina to race in the 250SX West Division; it was just where they got him signed.
It didn't matter to Bryce if he was in the East or West. With most of the races so far from home in the West division, he was thinking it might be a good thing. “Yeah, fine,” he grunted.
“Okay, you have about twenty minutes 'til go.”
Bryce gave him a curt nod and popped his ear buds in his ears and flipped to his favorite playlist. He wanted to just get into some tunes and focus.
He had turned eighteen this past week and he could do whatever he wanted, but he didn't have the same kind of support Tate had.
He still relied on his parents and breaking away from them wasn't going to be easy, but damn, he needed space before they smothered him to death.
He'd manage it somehow and maybe even get himself a boyfriend—someone like Tate. But first, he had to win a race.
He nodded his head to the incessant drums of Rancid and mouthed the words. For the next twenty minutes, his music and his race were the only things in the world.
Bryce had been racing in smaller, less popular divisions for several years, but none of that prepared him for the chaos he was thrown into after getting on the podium in his first professional race.
It wasn't even the main event, it was just the first heat race, and he didn't even win, he only placed second.
Yet, there were microphones in his face, and people yelling questions at him left and right and the crowd cheering.
He didn't know where to look or what to say.
George had told him that whenever a mic was pointed his way, his best bet was to thank his sponsors.
Bryce couldn't argue with that logic since Suzuki put him on a brand new bike and TopSport Parts had signed on to be his main sponsor along with a few other minor ones.
They paid him to do what he loved more than anything.
“How do you feel to have made it to the podium on your very first race?” A reporter shoved a FoxSports 1 microphone up to his face.
Bryce tugged his Monster Energy hat back and forth across his head.
He had to make a show for the sponsors. “Feels great, but it's not my first race ever, just in this division.
And, uh, I have to thank my team and my sponsors for this.
You know? Without TopSport Parts, Suzuki, Camtop Oil, and uh, oh, Pro-hard Energy Sports supplements, I wouldn't be here in the Supercross 250 division.
Without the TopSport crew working on the bike, making it work, yeah, I wouldn't be here.
So, I'm thrilled, and ready to do it again in the Main Event.”
“You heard it folks,” the reporter said, turning away. Bryce hoped he gave them all they needed and tried to walk away as well, but other reporters stopped him first.
“I'm Cali from MotoMag. What's up with the purple hair, Bryce?”
Bryce shrugged. “I'm only eighteen. I like purple. It’s fun.”
“Are we going to see number 441 on the podium at the main event?” someone else called out.
“If I have anything to say about it,” Bryce answered.
He searched for a way out, for George, or someone to help rescue him.
He'd had enough of the reporters. “I have to go,” he muttered under his breath.
He didn't know how the others, guys like Davey McAllister and Chad Regal, did it.
They talked to the press all the time and made it look so smooth and easy.
The lights blinded and the questions came at him from everywhere and worse, he had nothing else to say.
Bryce smiled and nodded while cameras flashed in his face.
Someone handed him a X-Top Energy drink and he popped it open, drinking some of it.
He almost never drank that stuff since he was on a very strict diet and exercise plan, but he was thirsty and he couldn't seem to get away.
More lights flashed around him and people yelled out, and someone started chanting, “East Coast. East Coast.” Bryce was already on an adrenaline high from the race, but his heart started pumping even faster and sweat dripped down his back.
He pulled at the goggles hanging around his neck.
He blinked furiously like his eyes had a will of their own and were trying to escape his face, only being held back by his sporadically winking lids.
A hand gripped his shoulder and he looked up to see George. “Come on. Good job, kid.”
He let George lead him away, but figured the man had been behind some of the craziness. At least the chanting. It didn't matter, he'd do what he was told so he could keep racing.
As they walked toward the pit, his heart finally calmed down. He rubbed his arm over his forehead, wiping the sweat off and took a deep breath. “That was kind of crazy, man.”
“Yep. For your first time, you looked pretty good. Next time, talk a little about the race.”
“Okay.” He hadn't even thought about that. Yeah, he'd heard other racers talk about the race and what had happened on the track. McAllister was really good at that. Bryce thought he should watch some more clips of him.
They walked on together until they approached the Apex pit and Bryce slowed down a bit. Just as they passed, Tate bounced out of the pit and almost ran right into Bryce. “Hey!” Bryce called out.
“Hey! Bryce? Hey.” Tate's eyes flew wide, eyebrows practically exploding off his face.
“Yeah, hey, Tate. Good to see you.” Seeing Tate felt a lot better than good to Bryce. It felt like seeing the sun for the first time after a month of rain.
“Did you race? Did you just race? How'd you do?” He seemed genuinely interested.
“Second.”
Tate pulled Bryce into a hug. It felt warm and right and Bryce didn't want it to end, but Tate pulled back.
He rubbed his hands along Bryce's biceps, lingering, as if he didn't want to stop touching. Or maybe Bryce imagined it. Tate couldn’t still be interested in him.
Yet, his touch felt like lightning zinging through his arm.
“I'm so proud of you. That's excellent!”
“Yeah, thanks. Hey, uh, you know about camp? I'm sorry.”
Tate waived one hand in the air, as if saying it was nothing, but his other hand stayed on Bryce's arm. “My fault. Really. I'm sorry.”
“I really need to talk to you about it. There's more you probably don't know. But, uh, this isn't the time.”
Tate's eyebrow scrunched over his nose. His face was so expressive, Bryce could almost tell what he was thinking by just watching his eyes and mouth alone. Looking at his mouth was a bad idea though, because he remembered that one blissful kiss.
Stepping closer, Tate moved his hand from Bryce's arm to the back of his neck.
His fingers flitted through his hair that hung loose at his collar.
“Hey, we can talk. Anytime. Really. I-I want us to be friends, Bryce.
" Tate seemed concerned, as if he could sense Bryce's turmoil, and maybe he could.
Maybe it was just as clear on his own face as Tate's emotions were on his.
“Yeah. My parents have been a bit smothering and it's all that Tanner dude's fault.”
“Wait. What? What'd he do? That douche.”
“Like I said, later. Can we talk later?”
Tate reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone, handing it to Bryce. “Give me your number, I'll text you after the Main Event when I'm free.”
Bryce tapped his numbers in and put his name in as the contact and handed the phone back. Tate tapped at it and smiled. “Just texted you, so you have mine, too.”
“Oh! What'd you send? My mom has my phone.”
“Just said hi. Relax.”
Bryce nodded. He overreacted. She wouldn't know it was from him anyway. It would be okay.
“Aren't you eighteen now?”
Bryce nodded again.
“You can do what you want, you know?”
“I know. It's complicated though. They've always been there and now, it's hard to push them away. You know what I mean?”
“Not really. My parents divorced me early on, I guess. Supercross is my parent. Has been for a while.”
Bryce just looked at him and his gorgeous, blond hair that danced around his head, and those animated, green eyes. Tate was Bryce's Supercross god and he wanted nothing more than to kneel at the man's feet. He wanted one more kiss and anything else Tate would bestow upon him.
Tate's phone buzzed, and he lowered his gaze to look at it. “Yeah, I gotta run. My heat's up.”
“Okay. Thanks, Tate. Good luck.”
“Arg! Davey McAllister's the one that'll need the luck. Oh, Davey!!” Tate had raised his voice, and laughed as Davey came out of the pit, pushing his bike, his hot mechanic right next to him. “Hey Davey, Ty, this is Bryce Nickel, he's racing in the 250 West. I know him from camp.”
“Nice to meet you,” Davey said with a curt nod.
“Hey,” Tyler, the mechanic waived, holding his greasy hand up, as if to say he'd shake hands, but they were too dirty.
“Yeah, hi! Nice to meet y’all.”
Tyler smiled. “A southern boy. Nice! Why don't you hang out with us after the race?”
Bryce was pretty sure stars were glittering in his eyes at the thought of hanging out with his Supercross idols, but his parents would never let him.
“I can't. Not this time, but maybe the next race.” If he could ditch his parents, convince them that he didn't need a chaperone, maybe he could hang with them.
“You're welcome any time. Shit. Gotta go, Davey.” Tyler directed Davey forward and they both climbed on the bike, as Davey started it up, and they drove away.
“Shit, me, too. Really, call me.” Tate leaned in and hugged Bryce again, and then ran off.
Bryce looked up to see George staring him down. “You need to come talk to the mechanic about your bike. While it's fresh.”
“Okay.” He followed George the rest of the way back to the pit, but he wasn't thinking about the bike or the press or the race. Nope. He was thinking about crazy blond hair, a sunny smile, and a win-it-all attitude.
When they got to the TopSport pit, his parents were there chatting with the mechanics and a few other people under the awning.
He really wished they'd not come. His mother saw him and jumped forward pulling him into a big hug.
“I'm so proud of you, baby.” Her cold hug and teasing words were nothing like Tate's hug had been.
Bryce pulled away from her. “Yeah, it was just the heat race, Mom.”
“Still. It was important and you proved yourself.” Bryce knew she was trying and he could have it a hell of a lot worse, making him feel guilty for questioning her affection. He worried his tongue against his back molar where he’d recently had his wisdom tooth pulled.
“Mrs. Nickel, good to see you.” George stepped between them. “Let's have a chat while Bryce works with the mechanics.” Bryce squatted down behind the bike, as George directed Bryce's parents out of the pit area. He peeked over the bike, watching them walk away.
“They're a bit intense,” the mechanic said, looking down at Bryce. He had his hands in the bike, but Bryce didn't know what he was doing.
“Yeah, tell me about it.” He rolled his eyes.
The mechanic chuckled. “So, how'd the bike run? What do we need to do?”
“It ran great. Hell, I took second.”
“What do you think we should tweak?”
Bryce shrugged. He knew the basics, but not nearly enough about the mechanics of the bike. Even in the other division, he’d had help with that. “I don't know. It was just a little sluggish in the turns, otherwise, perfect.”
“Okay, we can clean her up and do a few tweaks.”
Bryce didn't want to find his parents and talk with them. Learning all he could about the bike would prove beneficial, so he took a deep breath. “Show me.”