Girl on Track

60| The choices we make

I wake up remembering last night wasn't a dream. Tyler is fast asleep, holding me tightly like he's scared to let me go. I smile and turn to face him properly, tracing his features with my gaze. I love you, serinita, he'd said, but I hadn't said it back. Not intentionally – I'd been so caught by surprise, so overcome during the moment, that all thought had escaped me; I just hope I get another chance.

Sunlight peeks through the half-open curtains and falls in intricate patterns on the floor. I stretch a little, careful not to move too much in case I wake Tyler. He looks so peaceful when sleeping, and a part of me is scared of what will happen when he does wake. Last night felt so final, the end of any indecision. Regardless of what happens with my bike or the tournament, one thing I'm certain of is him.

My body starts to tingle the longer I lie still. I'm used to waking up at four a.m to train, but now there is no bike left for me to train with, no way for me to enter the tournament. Fixing my bike in time is impossible, and even if I could somehow find another bike to use, I don't have the time to get used to it. My dreams are officially that: dreams.

The logic in me says it's not the end of the world, that winning the tournament isn't everything, but it doesn't seem to work. All I can think about is how much effort I've put into training and how much I'd wanted to make Dad proud. Racing in this tournament wasn't just for me; it was for him.

Tears burn my eyes again. I feel stupid for crying, for caring so much about a material object, but that bike signified more than just winning a tournament: it was hope and excitement and power.

It was freedom.

"Hey."

I glance at Tyler to see he's awake and staring at me with concern. He pulls me in closer, allowing me to rest my head on his chest, where I hear the steady beat of his heart. It's strong, comforting – my personal lullaby.

"We'll figure something out," he says. Of course he knows why I'm so upset, what's slowly eating away at me. He knows me better than I even know myself.

"Not in time for the tournament," I say. "There's not enough time for me to adjust to a new bike."

He falls silent because he knows I'm right. With the best will in the world, there is nothing to be done. I can't repair my old bike and riding on one that I haven't acclimatized to is risky. For once, there is no answer to my problems, no solution or light at the end of the tunnel. Sometimes in life, things don't work out – no matter how much you wish they would.

It's this realization that breaks my resolve. The first tears fall and soak into Tyler's bare chest. He strokes my hair gently, resting his chin on top of my head as I let them flow freely. And even though my heart is breaking, even though there's a part of me that broke with that bike, knowing Tyler is here with me makes it a little more tolerable.

I must fall back asleep at some point because when I next wake, it's to Tyler fully dressed and leaning over me with a tray of pancakes. They're the funny shaped kind, a little raw looking in the middle, but he looks so pleased that I can't bring myself to say anything.

"Mmm," I say through a mouthful of raw batter, "delicious. Thank you."

"It was my first time making them," he says. "I'm not usually a pancake kind of guy."

"Really, I couldn't tell."

He takes a seat next to me in bed and rests a hand on my leg. Tingles spread through me almost immediately as I think of last night, how attentive and gentle he was. If someone had told me this time last year that I'd have fallen for a boy like Tyler, I'd have told them they were crazy. Now I can't imagine having fallen for anyone else.

"I'll take your bike to the shop later," Tyler says. "See what can be done."

I nod but I'm not getting my hopes up – it would take a miracle to fix it in time.  "Do you–" I'd been planning on asking how much it would cost when my phone rings from my jacket pocket. I reach down to where we'd thrown off our clothes and pull it out to see my mother is ringing.

As soon as I answer, I'm met with yelling. How could I not tell her I was staying out all night? I could have been dead in a ditch. How could I spend the night with a boy? It turns out when they couldn't reach me they'd contacted Alex, who'd assured them I was safe with Tyler.

I hang up and shoot Tyler a grave look. "I should probably get going before my mom drags me home kicking and screaming."

"The thing is," he says, pulling me closer, "I want to keep you all to myself."

I smile as he kisses my neck. It would be easy for me to stay here the rest of the day and get lost in his kisses, but my mother would have a heart attack. "I also don't want to get grounded."

"Fine, when can I see you?" he murmurs.

But I don't answer right away. I'm too distracted by the feeling of his hand as it slides up my leg. God, how I want to stay here. "I'll message you when I get home and see how much trouble I'm in first."

He sighs a little before kissing my neck, his hand slipping further down south.  "Ten more minutes," he whispers, and I can't help but smile before losing myself to his touch.

***

By the time we're ready, it's late afternoon. We head downstairs and say hello to his Dad, who sits in his armchair with the morning paper and a hot cup of coffee. He looks a lot less healthy than when I'd seen him last, and I can't help but wonder if maybe his deteriorating health will make him go easier on Tyler.

"I'm going to drop Roxy home," Tyler says as he kisses his dad's cheek, "and then I'm heading to the autoshop, but I'll be back in a little while. Alex is coming over later – if you need anything from the store, make sure you message her a list."

His dad takes a sip of his coffee before letting out a sigh of relief. "You know these kids tried to take coffee from me?" he says to me. "If a man can't even enjoy a cup of coffee in his old age, what can he enjoy?"

I'm not sure what to say to that, so I laugh. Tyler rolls his eyes and grabs my hand before leading me to his car. "He doesn't take it seriously," he says as he opens my door. "Thinks it's some big joke."

I slide into the passenger seat and wait for him to climb into the driver's seat. "Maybe that's just his way of dealing. Maybe deep down, he's scared too."

He shakes his head and reverses the car until we're speeding down the street. "I'd respect him more if he took it seriously instead of acting like he's invincible. The man had a heart attack, and he still won't change his diet or get help. He's just going to carry on making the same mistakes until something else gets him."

I think about just agreeing with him – it's clear to see he's hurting – but if I've learned anything from Dad's accident, it's that sometimes it's hard to see things from someone else's point of view. My mother would call my dad crazy for still loving racing. I know if he could, he'd race again no questions asked, even with the risk, because isn't that the point? Life is a series of difficult choices, and maybe they're wrong and reckless and selfish, but they're ours.

"I know it's hard," I say softly, "but you can't make him change, Tyler. All you can do is cherish the time you still have left with him."

His grip around the steering wheel tightens as we pull up to my house. He kills the engine and turns to face me, eyes dark and filled with defeat. "Come here," he whispers, and I lean in a little until he's cupping my face and kissing me. "Don't ever go anywhere, alright?"

His voice is low and slightly desperate. My heart aches, because behind his cool and easy facade, he's scared of losing me too.

"I won't," I murmur against his lips.

A/N

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