Bella and the Happily Ever After Read online

  As soon as I steer my bike onto the track, following right behind Bella, I feel a sense of relief wash over me. This is where I was meant to be. This is how I should feel when I’m riding my dirt bike. Happy. Free. Alive. The last few weeks of racing professionally took all those good feelings away from me. It left me feeling like racing was a chore. Like dirt bikes were controlling my life and that it’d never be fun again. But now the pressure is off.

  I kick it into third gear, and then fourth, and zoom over a double jump, staying right behind Bella. I could pass her, but I don’t. She rides faster when I’m back here pushing her, and the view of her adorable backside makes it worth not going as fast as possible. I breathe in the spring air that’s mixed with exhaust. It might not be good for my lungs, but it’s good for my soul.

  After a few laps, I pull off the track to get a drink. Bella stays out there, practicing her take offs at the starting line.

  I only manage to take one sip of my Gatorade before someone approaches me. Make that two someones.

  I turn around at the sound of the footsteps and see two girls about my age walking up. They’re dressed in regular clothes, so they must not be here to ride.

  “Hi, Liam,” the brunette on the left says. “I’m Sarika. I’m a huge fan.”

  “I’m a bigger fan,” the other girl says. She flips her hair over her shoulder and beams at me. “I’m Heather.”

  “Nice to meet you,” I say, taking another sip of my drink in the hopes that I’ll look bored enough for them to walk away. Maybe I’m a jerk, but I’m not technically famous anymore. I no longer ride professionally, and I don’t feel like they’re entitled to my time when I’m here as a regular person, not a celebrity.

  “So why did you quit Team Loco?” Sarika says. “There are a lot of rumors going around.”

  “Don’t believe the rumors.” I wipe the sweat off my face with a hand towel and toss it back into the bed of my truck. “The reason I left is on my social media, and in about every interview I did on my last week with the team.”

  Heather rolls her eyes. “Yeah, we’ve seen the official watered-down answer,” she says, taking a step closer. Her friend is right on her heels. Now they’re basically crowding me up against the tailgate of my truck. “We want to know the real answer. Is it true you got that girl pregnant and she’s threating you?”

  I stare dead-eyed at her for a good five seconds. She doesn’t take the hint and leave, even though I wish she would. “What did I just tell you about rumors?” I say.

  I’m not under contract anymore, and therefore I’m under no obligation to be nice to people to say rude crap.

  “We won’t tell anyone,” she says. “We’re just really big fans and we don’t want to see anyone try to damage your reputation.”

  “Plus, she’s wondering if you’re single,” Sarika says. Her friend blushes and tries to look embarrassed, but I’m pretty sure it’s all an act. They came over here hoping to what? Flirt with me? Win me over? Steal me from my girlfriend that is literally just across the track from us?

  Speaking of… I really don’t want Bella to come back here and see these girls bothering me. I don’t want anything to happen that will ruin her day or make her question our relationship.

  Instead of cursing them out like I really, really want to, I decide to be as nice as possible. Turning the other cheek and all that. “I’m very happy with my girlfriend. Anything you hear about me that doesn’t come from my own mouth is a rumor and shouldn’t be believed.”

  I stand up and put the cap back on my Gatorade. “Excuse me, I’m late for a meeting.”

  As I walk away, I try not to laugh at my own silly excuse. Late for a meeting? With who? We’re at a dirt bike track! But it was the first thing that came out of my mouth, and I’m desperate to put as much space between me and those awful girls before Bella gets off the track.

  So, I keep walking, straight toward the office building at the entrance to the track. They don’t follow me, luckily, but I’m stopped by a few people along the way. Most of them want to say hello or tell me that they’re “big fans” of my racing career. One person asks why I quit Team Loco and I tell them to look online.

  Eventually, I make it to the building in one piece, with no annoying fans trying to follow me inside. The building is mostly empty, with only the employee who sits behind the front counter here. She signs in people and takes their money, but mostly she just sits here on her phone. There’s a TV in the corner of the room playing a loop of motocross DVDs.

  “Hi,” she says, smiling at me. She’s always been friendly and never oversteps the bounds of politeness by asking some rude invasive question. I think she’s the owner’s daughter. “Can I help you with anything?”

  I sigh and place my hands on the front counter. “No,” I admit. “I just lied and said I needed to come here for a meeting just so I could avoid these annoying fans who kept asking rude stuff.”

  “Oh,” she says, eyes widening. “That’s awful. I’m sorry.”

  “Rude stuff?” a man says from the other room. Soon, the track owner emerges from his office which is behind the front counter. He’s about fifty years old, I guess, and he’s always been extremely nice to me. “Who was it? I’ll have them escorted off the property.”

  I shrug. “Eh, it’s no big deal. Just annoying.”

  “It can be hard transitioning back into the real world after being pro,” he says.

  “You were pro?” I ask. Mentally, I run his name through all the old pros I know and I can’t remember him.

  “Barely,” he says with a nod. “Back in the nineties. I made it on a Kawasaki professional team for one year. I never did too great, and they ended up dropping me from the team. But when I came back home, I was a celebrity in my local motocross community.”

  “He acts humble,” his daughter says with a roll of her eyes. “But he’ll gladly talk about his days of fame forever if you let him.”

  He waves off his daughter’s playful insult. “Oh, shush. I’m just commiserating with the boy. I’m glad to have you back, though, Liam. You’re a good kid and you bring a lot of business to the track.”

  I laugh. “How did you get over all the attention?”

  “It’ll fizzle out after a while,” he says, leaning on the counter. He gazes off at the wall, his thoughts clearly back in another time. “It was fun while it lasted, though. Every now and then one of the old-timers will come here and recognize my name and we’ll get to talking. It’s fun being remembered. You hate it now, but you might like it later on.”

  “Did you own the track before or after you went pro?” I ask.

  “Way after,” he says. “I did a bit of time as a manager at a hardware store and that just wasn’t for me. Then this land went up for sale and since it floods a lot, no one could build a house on it. So it was dirt cheap. And I thought, hey what better use for cheap dirt than a dirt bike track?”

  His daughter snorts at his joke.

  “That’s cool,” I say. “It seems to have worked out for you.”

  “Oh yeah, best decision I ever made. You thinking of owning your own track one day?”

  I bite down on my bottom lip. “Honestly, that never occurred to me until now.”

  “You should do it, son. Not anywhere close to here because you’ll steal all my business—” he snorts out a laugh. “But running a track is pure joy. I promise. You get to be involved with the best sport in the world, and you get paid to do it.”

  The gears in my mind start turning. I know Bella has been worried about what she’ll do with her life, but I’ve kind of been avoiding my future for now.

  “That’s definitely worth thinking about,” I say. “Not sure there’s any cheap land to turn into a track now, though.”

  “You should talk to old man Bailey,” he says, pointing a finger at me. “I hear that old geezer is about to retire soon. He’s wanting to sell the track.”

  “Really?” Mr. Bailey owns Oakcreek Motocross, which is a pretty well
-known track about three hours from here. I used to love riding there when I was a kid.

  “Ooh, that would be cool,” his daughter says. “We could partner up Roca Springs and Oakcreek for a series race!”

  “It’s worth a shot,” he says. “Trust me, owning your own track is a dream. Best job ever.”

  “Thanks,” I tell him, even though I’m sure that kind of thing costs way too much money. “I think I might look into it.”

  11

  Bella

  Life is starting to feel normal now. Being a girlfriend and having an amazing relationship with Liam is now just my regular life. I can honestly say I’ve never been so happy in all of my life. My college classes are easy, my riding skills are constantly getting better, and making out with Liam every day is definitely a perk of being me. We haven’t taken things much further than making out yet. Sometimes I really want to, but other times I like taking things slowly. It kind of feels like once we’ve experienced all the “firsts” with each other, it won’t be as special anymore.

  Plus, I keep reminding myself that even though I’ve basically been in love with him for ten months, we’ve only been dating for less than two.

  It’s Thursday night and Liam is on his way over with take out Chinese food. We’re going to watch some superhero movie tonight at my place.

  Brent still isn’t able to walk on his broken leg yet, but he’s no longer stuck on the recliner. He’s moved back to his bedroom, where he sulks quietly alone in there. I try to remember to visit him every few hours so he doesn’t get bored, but he’s not really much fun to be around. The insurance company totaled his truck and he got a big check from them to buy a new one. All he ever talks about now is how he can’t wait to go car shopping once he can walk again. He starts physical therapy soon. I hope that once he’s back on his feet (literally and metaphorically) he’ll stop being so gloomy and annoying.

  “Your boyfriend is here,” Brent calls out from his room. I’m in the living room which has a window that looks out into the front yard just like Brent’s bedroom does. So he knows I can see Liam arrive just as well as he can. I think he just likes to point it out to be annoying.

  I ignore him and answer the door.

  “They gave us free cookies,” Liam says, wiggling his eyebrows excitedly as he holds up the take-out food. “The owner said I’m her best customer because I order there twice a week.”

  “You keep eating junk like that and you’ll get fat,” Brent calls out from his bedroom.

  “Fat but happy,” Liam calls back.

  This is how they are now. My brother and boyfriend, not exactly friends, but not exactly enemies. It’s not perfect, but I’ll take it.

  After we eat, I snuggle up against Liam on the couch. He’s highly into the superhero movie, but I find them kind of boring. There’s too many of them out there now, and I get lost in the overlapping storylines. The only thing these superhero movies are good for in my opinion, is the sexy eye candy actors, and now that I’m dating Liam, who is sexier than all of them combined, I don’t really care.

  I lean against Liam’s chest and play on my phone for most of the movie. His fingers absentmindedly play with my hair while he watches the TV. I love this so much. Just hanging out with him. Life is good.

  Somehow, in my bored internet browsing, I end up on the Facebook page for Oakcreek Motocross. I notice they’re having a women’s only race day, hosted by this Texas racer named Morgan who is locally famous and totally awesome. There will be ten different races, one for each age group and bike size, and the whole thing goes to support a battered women’s shelter.

  I sit up on the couch. “Liam! I want to race this weekend!”

  He pauses the TV. “I didn’t think there was a race this weekend?”

  “It’s at Oakcreek,” I say, showing him my phone. “All the money goes to a women’s charity and it’ll be all girls racing. This will be so cool.”

  Oakcreek is a long drive away, and we’d have to leave at four in the morning to get there, but I’m surprised when he eagerly agrees. “That sounds amazing,” he says. “Let’s do it.”

  “Really?” I squeal. I’ve never ridden on that track, and I’m a little scared, but I think it’ll be fun. Plus, it’ll be all girls racing. Freaking girl power to the max.

  He grins. “I’ve actually been wanting to go there, so this is good timing.”

  “You should wear a disguise, so no one notices you,” I say, cupping his face in my hands. “A track full of girls means a track full of girls who will all want to flirt with you.”

  He wraps his arm around me and hoists me up onto his lap in one swift, strong motion that totally turns me on. “Too bad for them. I’ve already found the girl of my dreams.”

  Oakcreek Motocross Park is in the Texas hill country, where the land is all sloped, with rolling hills that make the natural terrain perfect for a motocross track. Unlike at home, our land is mostly flat and all the jumps have to be man-made, here they’ve taken the natural hills and turned them into jumps. There are large pine trees all over the place, and the whole track is beautiful. It’s like nature and motocross combined into one.

  I’m in awe as we walk around the facility. Someone has decorated the track with hot pink plastic flags instead of the multicolored ones that are usually put up for races. It’s kind of stereotypical to decorate the track in all pink to celebrate women, but whatever. It’s the spirit of the race that makes me happy. Tons of women from all over the state have showed up today in support of the race.

  I decide to sign up for the 250f novice class, since I’m not quite a beginner, but not advanced enough to put myself in the “expert” class.

  Liam took my advice with the whole disguise thing… he’s wearing a plain T-shirt instead of one of the hundreds of dirt bike shirts he owns, and a Houston Astros baseball cap pulled low over his eyes, which are covered with sunglasses. If he’s not all decked out in dirt bike brands, maybe people won’t notice him. So far, it seems to be working.

  The first hour before the races start is for practice. Everyone gets to ride around and get a feel for the track. I’m at a disadvantage because I’ve never been on this track before, and after a few slow laps, I’m feeling more than a little nervous. This isn’t the same track as my home track. It’s harder, and different, and a little challenging.

  By the time I pull off the track, I’m almost in tears. Maybe I should have signed up for the beginner level race after all.

  I need to see my boyfriend and have him tell me all those sweet words he’s so good at. My vision is blurred with tears as I slowly ride back to his truck. When I get there, I see him surrounded by girls. I have to bite back more tears. I wanted him to myself. I didn’t want to share him today.

  I park my bike and pull off my helmet.

  “Hey babe,” Liam calls out.

  I nod at him in reply. Then I pull off my helmet. I’m very much aware of the fact that I’m sweaty and miserable and have helmet hair and the four girls who are standing next to my boyfriend are wearing cute outfits, nice makeup, and aren’t covered in sweat. Liam breaks away from them and walks over to me. “How was the track?”

  Before I can answer, the girls have all turned their attention to me.

  “What’s your name?” one says.

  “Bella,” I say quickly, looking back at Liam. “The track was okay. It’s kind of hard,” I admit.

  We’re clearly in our own conversation right now but Liam’s fans aren’t having any of it. The girl who asked for my name takes a step closer. She’s not even trying to hide her jealous glare and judgmental assessment of what I look like. “So you’re the girl who made Liam quit?”

  “I’m sorry, who are you?” I say in the best rude voice I can muster. Normally I might be better at it, but I’m still holding off tears from how disappointing my practice ride was.

  “I’m a concerned fan,” she says, smiling that evil girl smile that my gender saves just for other women. “Liam was a favorite member
of Team Loco and none of us appreciate you making him quit.”

  My mouth falls open. I am all out of sarcastic replies to spit back at them.

  “That’s enough,” Liam says, stepping between me and them, like a human shield. “You’re being extremely rude, so I’m asking you to leave. If you talk to my girlfriend again, I’ll be telling park security about you.”

  “Ugh, she made you a jerk too,” the girl says. But she and her friends turn and leave without saying anything else. At least not anything loud enough for me to hear.

  I burst into tears.

  “Baby,” Liam says, rushing up to me. He holds my face in his hands, pressing his forehead to mine. He doesn’t even seem to care that I’m sweaty and gross. “Baby don’t cry. Forget about them. They’re the ones with a problem, not us.”

  I shake my head and try to take a breath, but it comes out all ragged. “It’s not them... It’s—well it’s kind of them,” I admit. “But it’s also me. This track is hard. I mean, it’s beautiful and I love it but there’s no way I’ll win the race tonight. Not even close. I need more practice.”

  “Baby,” Liam says softly, his lips just inches from mine. “Take a deep breath.”

  I do as he says. He kisses my forehead, and then wraps his arms around me. We sway a little bit as if he were slow dancing, and it’s like he’s trying to hug the fears out of me. I relax into him, breathing slowly.

  “This is just a fun race. For fun. For charity. Try not to let it stress you out.”

  “Easier said than done,” I mumble against his chest.

  He chuckles and continues to hold me, swaying ever so softly. I feel so safe and perfect in his arms. I almost wish we never had to let go. “All these people are judging you and judging me,” I say. “If I get last place, they’re going to know you’re dating a loser.”