Girl on Track

9| Judas

It's a five-minute ride from the track to Mojack's. Tyler apparently has money to burn, because he swaps his Motocross bike for a Harley he keeps in the parking lot.

I follow his lead, zipping after him down winding country lanes. It's the first time I've really had the chance to explore, and I find myself enjoying our ride.

The sun has already set, so the sky is now the color of liquid blue ink. It wasn't often I'd stare at the stars back in Arizona, but then the sky was never as clear as this. I can see every twinkling light, glaring at me from millions of miles away. It's strange to think most of them have already died out, that what I am looking at is a snapshot in time; a memory.

We park up outside a typical looking biker bar. The outside isn't much to look at, but the inside is a little more lively, with dark wooden walls, red sconce lamps, and several pool tables inserted between the tables. Tyler leads me over to a booth, where he slips into the seat opposite. The table between us is tiny, so when he leans forward and rests his arms on the top, he's practically touching me.

"Don't they ask for ID here?" I ask.

The corner of his mouth lifts. "No, but we're not drinking tonight, anyway."

He hands me the leather menu, which is slightly sticky, and I open it up. The food is what I'd expected, a thousand different ways to cook meat: burgers, ribs, steaks–the list is endless.

A pretty waitress comes over and smiles at Tyler as though she knows him. "Hey, Ty. Been a while."

He nods and says, "Hey, Whitney."

"You ready to order?" She says it to him, but Tyler nods his head at me. 

Reluctantly, the waitress turns. I end up ordering a coke, cheeseburger, and fries while Tyler orders the same. With one last smile, she heads into the back to grab our drinks.

Finally, curiosity gets the better of me. "What are we doing here?"

Tyler cocks an eyebrow and gestures to the menu. "Eating."

"You could have bet on anything. This place isn't exactly expensive, so you're not looking for a free meal. Why the dinner?"

He smirks and says, "Maybe I find you interesting."

I raise an eyebrow. He's obviously used to charming women; it's clear he's had the practice. "You don't even know me."

He leans back in his chair, his eyes still on mine. "Maybe that's why, then."

I suppress a smile and study him. He looks good under the dimly lit sconce lamps. His tanned skin looks browner, and his dark eyes are more of a honey color in the light. If he wasn't forbidding me from racing in the evenings, I might actually consider him attractive.

"You still thinking about competing?" he asks.

"Why wouldn't I be? You think one race would scare me off?"

His eyebrow arches. "Did it?"

I'm saved from having to answer when the waitress comes back with our drinks. The second she leaves, I say, "I'm still competing. Alex is helping me train."

I've caught his attention. He leans forward over the table, and I notice his eyes are now black. "Why?"

I shrug. "She thinks I have what it takes to compete in the tournament. She wants to help me."

He smirks and shakes his head. "That girl is a Judas if I ever saw one."

The bite to his tone is unmistakable. I lean in closer and say, "What's with you two? She an ex, or something?"