Chapter four
Clay
Practice Track, North Carolina
Overhearing that Slade was coming to practice here, at Zeke’s track where I practiced, created a furious mix of anger and excitement in me. Anger was winning as I slammed down into a chair in the cafeteria.
Ryker pulled a chair out, making a loud screech as he dragged it across the floor.
“Cole’s the only racer on this team allowed to be surly around here.
” They were best friends, and when Cole first started racing for BikeMax, he was a giant grouch, but between Ryker’s goofiness and Cole’s boyfriend, that really wasn’t the case anymore.
“Who the fuck uses the word surly?”
“I don’t know but you are.” He pointed at my face, nearly touching my nose before I flinched away.
“Cole doesn’t even practice here anymore.
” He moved to being coached with Craige Lee over in Atlanta because it made sense to spread out.
Zeke couldn’t coach everyone. Right now, besides me, he had Ryker and to a lesser extent Nate who raced 250 West, although Coop, an Arenacross racer turned coach, was there to help with Nate.
Cameron Raegan now coached Craige and Cole.
Since Nate was racing in West division, while I was in the East, that division helped a little.
We only actually raced at the same time a couple times a year when AMA did the East/West showdowns.
But we trained together a lot, and Nate was super cool. I didn’t know how Slade would fit in.
“No, but he left a legacy.” Ryker laughed.
Him and Cole were complete opposites. Cole was a lot grumpier while Ryker was a barrel of fucking monkeys, but I was over the jokes, so I stood up, grabbed my tray, and dumped it before walking out.
There were really only two places to go, though.
Back to my room to stew in my head over Slade, or hit the track and get some extra time in. Dirt for the win!
After a few laps, Slade showed up, rolling his bike out to the starting gate area.
Coop and Nate walked with him, Nate also pushing his bike, and some other guy, wearing jeans and a button up short sleeve shirt.
That was probably Slade’s coach. My curiosity got the better of me, and I rode over to see what was going on.
“What’s up guys?” I asked, pulling my goggles off over my helmet.
“Clay, hey, man. You know Slade?” Coop gestured to Slade, who stood there with his bike leaning against his thigh and a scowl on his face. “And this is his coach, Ian Tweed.”
“Call me Tweed.” The name fit him well, making me think of someone nerdy with his nose in a book all the time, and Ian Tweed looked the part.
He was skinny, all elbows, and sported a business-style haircut.
He contrasted with Slade’s shaggy hair that was a bit too long and racer’s body, lean but muscular.
“I heard the rumor.” I stretched out and shook Tweed’s hand.
“No, it’s true.” Nate threw his leg over his bike. “They’re going to be practicing here. Since we’re both getting Toyota factory support, more or less.”
Less was more like it, especially for Slade. Johnny, the accountant and business manager, was always calling them to wrangle something out of them that they should have already provided. But that wasn’t my concern, not that Slade was. “Thought you were a hardcore privateer.”
There was that sexy smirk from him again. “I know a good thing when I see it.”
Could he mean me? He did that chin lift thing. Or maybe he meant the opposite. It didn’t matter. I don’t want him. Oh, how I lied to myself.
We all got busy after that and practiced starts for a while before getting some laps in.
Zeke came out and checked on us, he had Ryker on a different track.
With Coop and this Tweed guy both here, Zeke could worry a bit less about me.
Maybe that was what the whole bring Slade in thing was about.
I stayed out as long as I could, running a couple extra laps after everyone else left.
It had been super hard to get that man out of my head, when he was there the entire time, everywhere I looked.
Finally exhausted, I went back to my RV, showered, and went in search of food. Inside the cafeteria, Slade was standing to the side eating Twizzlers and chatting with his father. I wanted to be that piece of licorice, with his tongue wrapped around mine.
That was not something I should be thinking about. Stupid Clay.
To hell with that and him. I grabbed water, a yogurt with fruit topping, and a snack pack of almonds before storming out.