Page 20 of Kickoff

Craig cocked his head toward me and grinned. I mirrored it because it was impossible to deny the girls’ contagious enthusiasm was rubbing on us too.

The song ended and another catchy one began and their singing resumed.

Resting my back against the door, I pretended to stretch my legs, my only goal to watch the girl beside me. Her eyes were full of life, her ponytail sweeping across her shoulders with each bob of her head. Her rosy lips, thanks to the lip gloss she applied earlier, looked good enough to devour. Melinda Shepard was a sight for sore eyes. And no matter how many times I told myself to look away, the truth was I couldn’t. My entire being couldn’t resist her magnetism. I homed in on her mouth as she sang every word.

I would give up a lot to be able to kiss those pouty lips once. Feel them on mine. And decide if they tasted as good as they looked.

All I needed was one chance to make a move and prove to her I wasn’t the cocksure guy everyone believed I was. When she had been away this summer, I made a promise to myself. I wouldn’t make a move on Melinda Shepard until I was sure she knew she wasn’t a joke to me and that I was serious about my intentions toward her. If I had only one chance to make her fall in love with me, I wouldn’t risk it.

6

Nathan Fucking Bellevue

Ten minutes later, Craig parked in the gravel lot behind the tracks. The car races at the old speedway should be entertaining—they usually were. The scent of gasoline and hotdogs from the concession stands saturated the air. The sound of engines being pushed to their breaking point vibrated through the small stadium. An enthusiastic crowd cheered and clapped as we took our seats. The races hadn’t begun yet, and the drivers were just testing the tracks and their vehicles, but still, excitement was palpable in the air.

The drivers got into position. A horn resonated somewhere, but it sounded miles away.

Somehow, I didn’t wish to be here anymore. Awareness took over my entire body. My senses were acute. Even my breathing hastened, and I wasn’t even moving. The problem with today’s races rested on the girl sitting right in front of me, capturing all my attention, no matter how hard I tried to ignore her. She hadn’t talked to me since we arrived, mostly acting as if I didn’t fucking exist.

I had to forget about her. And fast.

Every smile she sent Paige, who sat next to her, each flick of her ponytail over her shoulders, or even the clap of her hands when she got excited watching the cars circling the dusty track, I missed nothing. Not a single one of her movements. As if all of them were playing in slow motion. A waft of her fruity shampoo hit my nose. Her laughter spread through me like a caress. Right now, I couldn’t care less about the action down on the speedway.

Every inch of my body was tensed, and I swallowed, trying to ease the discomfort invading me.

Since when did someone—a girl—bother me so much? And yet, her presence acted like a dagger straight through my heart because she couldn’t care less about my existence.

My clothes felt too tight on me. At one point, she cocked her head to ask Craig something, pointing at the track, her smile bright. The sparkles in her eyes could probably be seen from space. Melinda Shepard loved the competition. That was what made her so good in her sport on meet days. I almost combusted when her eyes landed on me for a fraction of a second. I was back to being that eleven-year-old boy with a crush on the girl next door.

She turned around, engrossed in the action before us. “Go. Yes. Like that.” She jumped to her feet, cheering and stamping, as dust rose up around the cars, hiding them from us, and only the high-pitched whine of the gearboxes could be heard. “Faster. Yes. Pass him on the right.”

She pumped her fist when the cars crossed the finish line. People screamed and clapped as the guy who finished first held his helmet over his head, grinning like an idiot. I had no idea who he was or if he was any good since I’d been too distracted the entire time he circled the track.

Melinda spun to talk to my brother but lost her balance, and her palm splayed on my thigh when she fell forward. My heart rate picked up, and my entire body sang as her hand lingered there for longer than needed.

I took a deep breath in, trying to relax. In vain. Melinda Shepard was touching me. Her hand was on me. I swallowed, not sure how to react without scaring her away. Time idled as I steadied my breathing, trying to look unaffected. For a long second, we fixated on each other. The imprint of her palm burned my flesh through the fabric of my boardshorts. This time, the glints shining in her eyes looked nothing like the swords she usually threw at me. I feared if I blinked, they would disappear. As if an invisible string tied us together, we both leaned into each other. The moment she realized her hand was still connected to my leg and we were about to collide, she removed it. A puff of air left my lungs at the same time.

“Sorry,” she murmured, shaking her head like she was trying to escape whatever spell had taken us hostage.

I tried to speak, to say something, but I nodded like a fool instead. Smooth, Mase. Real smooth.

Chase, my best friend, sitting on my right, elbowed me in the ribs, breaking the weird trance I had fallen into. “Man, it’s Novak’s turn.” He pointed to the tracks. “He’s doing it. How sick is that?”

My attention returned to the starting line. Something loosened in my chest, and I breathed easier.

Indeed, Novak, a guy four years older than us who had survived leukemia back in high school, climbed behind the wheel of an old white sports car with the number thirty-nine painted in red on the side—his old football jersey number. My friends and I all jumped up from our seats, and we applauded and wolf whistled. The guy was a legend in Elk River. Years ago, the town had organized charitable events to aid him and his family through their ordeal. From paying hospital bills and helping him with his doctor’s appointments to offering to drive him back and forth to his treatments in Traverse City and giving him moral support.

The energy buzzed in the outdated stadium.

The thirteen of us in our little section were a mad crowd as the engines roared to life and the cars spun around the track, leaving clouds of dust behind.

Third on his last lap, Novak maneuvered a last-second passing and crossed the finish line in second place. His girlfriend jumped into his waiting arms the moment he exited the vehicle, locking her legs around his waist and kissing him senseless.

Something pinched my heart when I watched them. I wanted that. A girl who loved me for me and would jump into my arms after a win on the field but also just because she felt like kissing the shit out of me for no reason other than we loved each other.

Cocking my head, I turned to crack a joke, trying to ease the knot forming in my chest. “Hey babe, I—” I scanned the bleachers, searching for the girls, but they had vanished. “Where’s Paige?” I asked Craig, trying to sound chill about it.

“Restroom break and then to grab snacks with Mel. Want something?”