The Trail Rules Page 5

  “Action, comedy, Bourne…”

  I’d like some action, please. “Bourne’s action.”

  He turns to face me, his eyes serious. “Jason Bourne is a category unto himself.”

  “Well, then. Bourne.”

  He selects the first movie in the series and settles onto the couch next to me. His side is pressed against mine and I lean forward so he can wrap his arm around me. Then I hook a leg over his. Properly settled into our movie-watching position, I try to relax, but my brain won’t focus. My legs feel anxious, like I need to move. To ride.

  I’m surprised by the thought. I enjoy riding but still think of it as Evan’s thing that I go along with. Maybe it’s becoming my thing, too.

  “What’s the matter?” he whispers against my ear.

  “I can’t sit still.”

  His eyelids grow heavy and his green eyes stare into mine. This isn’t what I was thinking, but the way my pulse races, my body seems to approve of his suggestion. I caress his jaw, trailing my fingers over his face until I reach his lips. They part, and heat flares through me. A window explodes and gunfire erupts on the TV, but neither of us look away. When our lips meet, my eyes close and he pulls me closer. We’ve made out on this couch a hundred times, but it always gives me a rush. Maybe it’s knowing his parents could come downstairs at any minute, or maybe it’s because Evan Tripp can do things with his hands and mouth that make me weak in the knees.

  Right now one of those hands is working its way under my t-shirt, running up my side until he reaches my bra. I may or may not have intentionally worn a front-clasp bra, and it’s unfastened before the onscreen explosions die down. When his mouth moves to my neck, I tug at his shirt and pull him on top of me so we’re skin to skin. We won’t get naked with his parents upstairs, but that doesn’t mean we can’t—

  Dolly barks, startling both of us. Evan lifts his head to glance at the stairs, but it’s quiet. “Dolly, shush,” he murmurs, before lowering his lips to mine. I slide my hands down his back and slip my fingers inside the waist of his jeans, fingering the edge of his boxers, then freeze. The familiar jingle of a dog collar is coming down the stairs.

  Followed by slow, deliberate footsteps.

  We spring apart, yanking our clothes into place. I smooth my hair back and cross my arms over my chest. Better to leave my bra unfastened then get caught with my hands up my shirt and my boobs flopping all over the place.

  A throat clears, but the footsteps stop. “I was sent to interrupt you,” Andy whispers.

  “Mission accomplished,” Evan replies.

  “Are you… uh… ?”

  “Andy, you’re fine.” I relax against the couch but keep my arms over my chest.

  Kita circles Dolly before plopping next to her, but her gaze stays trained on Andy.

  “Yeah I am.” He smirks and moves to sit on the couch but Evan shakes his head.

  “Nope.”

  Andy points at the TV. “But Bourne.”

  Evan smiles. “Nope.”

  “You know I can’t go back upstairs for at least five minutes.”

  Evan looks pointedly at the floor, then pulls me against him so we’re laying side by side, my back to his chest. I know we shouldn’t make out in front of his brother, but I’m still warm from where he’d been touching me and my body reacts to him in ways I can’t stop.

  “I know I’m the one who told you to do this down here, but that was before I thought I’d be forced to watch.” Andy sits on the floor with his back against the couch and doesn’t turn our way.

  I nudge him with my foot. “I promise we’ll wait until you leave.”

  “Great,” he laughs. “Rub it in.”

  Evan presses tighter against me and his lips trail down my neck. “I’m not promising anything.”

  Andy looks at the non-existent watch on his wrist. “Has it been five minutes? It has to be five minutes already.”

  Evan runs his hand up my side, resting at the edge of my breast, and I melt into him. “Almost there.”

  I twist in his arms so we’re facing each other and our mouths crash together. I have to remind myself not to rip off his shirt, but he feels so good in my arms.

  “Ugh. Seriously?” This time Andy sounds genuinely irritated.

  “Sorry, Andy,” I mumble against Evan’s lips.

  Evan smiles and presses a kiss to my cheek. “Okay, we’ll wait sixty seconds.” He stares into my eyes and I’m reminded of that story online that says if you stare into someone’s eyes for four minutes, you’ll fall in love. We’re already in love—at least I think we are—so I don’t know how that could change anything, but I stare back anyway.

  At first I feel self-conscious. It feels like I’m baring my soul to him, like his bright green eyes can see right through me. But I suppose it’s the same with my blue eyes for him. I try not to blink and focus on the flecks of brown that ring the green. For the millionth time I catch myself wondering what he sees in me, why he chose me out of all the girls at school, and I shake my head to clear the thought. We chose each other. This isn’t one-sided.

  “What?” he whispers.

  “Do you know how gorgeous you are?”

  Andy jumps to his feet, shaking the couch. “And that’s five minutes. Come on, Kita.” He thunders up the stairs without another word, Kita’s collar jingling behind him.

  I graze my fingers along Evan’s jawline.

  He kisses me again, but it’s less frenetic than before. My heart pounds in my chest. I can’t explain this connection I feel to him, like this is it. This is who I’m meant to be with. Something inside him pulls me closer on a level deeper than sex and hormones and teenage lust, pushing away the doubt I felt earlier. We kiss like we have all the time in the world and this is the only place we need to be.

  When the final explosion sounds onscreen, he tucks his head into my neck and breathes deeply. “I love you, Mikayla.”

  I startle at my full name. It’s been forever since he’s called me that. “I love you, too.” We’ve said it before, but not often enough that it doesn’t feel special. “Can I just stay here forever?”

  He nods against me. “Mm-hmm.”

  “Perfect.” I snuggle closer. My eyes grow heavy and if it’s possible, my body relaxes even more.

  “But you should probably go soon.”

  “Yeah, missing curfew the same day I’ve been told to cut back on the extracurriculars probably isn’t what they had in mind.”

  He pushes onto his elbow and looks down at me. “Extracurriculars? You aren’t in any clubs.”

  I make air quotes with my free hand. “It’s time to focus on my studies.”

  His brow furrows. “And what does that mean?”

  I shrug. “Everything.”

  “Including us?”

  I don’t expect tears, but there they are, burning my eyes and threatening to spill down my cheeks. “They didn’t say we have to break up, but—”

  He smooths my hair back from my face. “Mike, why didn’t you say something sooner?”

  “I was trying not to think about it?”

  “Did I do something to piss them off? Can I talk to them?”

  I shake my head. “You didn’t do anything. They like you. It’s me. Sixteen years and they still haven’t figured out that I’m not Madison. And I’m never going to be.”

  “They can’t just not let you do anything.”

  “I can on the weekends.” A thought strikes me. “And I finally convinced Cally to go riding with me tomorrow.”

  “You’re going without me?”

  I smile. “Girls’ day.”

  He smirks. “I see how it is.”

  “Plus you have tryouts.” He still hasn’t said he’s definitely trying out, but maybe one last push will convince him.

  “You’re not gonna let up, are you?”

  I smile. “I will when you try out.”

  He burrows his face in my neck and exhales. “Okay. I’ll do it.”

  I squeeze my ar
ms around him. Having him on the team will mean less time together, but it’s what he’s always wanted. “Text me afterwards.”

  “You’ll be riding.”

  I sigh. “If I can even go.”

  “Go right after school and get home before they do.” That’s one of my favorite things about Evan. He can solve problems like nobody’s business, and usually stays within the rules to do it.

  “You think we can make it back in time?”

  “Hit the same trails we rode Sunday and you should be fine. Cally’s never been, right?”

  “No, but I expect her mountain biking abilities to surpass mine by the end of the run.”

  He laughs. “Yeah, probably.”

  I smack his arm. “Hey!”

  “That’s a compliment to her, not a rip on you. Her core strength is insane from skiing.”

  “True.” My thoughts flit to Cally’s first days at Monarch High, when Evan and I had just broken up and he was crushing on her. Cally never liked him as more than a friend—Blake was all she ever wanted—but Evan… I know he liked her. Nothing happened between them and I’ve never asked for details. And that’s all in the past now. But I hate the doubt that worms its way inside me.

  “Get home before they do and I’ll make sure we study more than each other when we’re together.” I snort and he rolls his eyes. “Even though you are my favorite subject.”

  This time I roll my eyes. “Okay, Cheesy McCheeserson.” My smile fades. “I’m not sure if they’ll let us hang out during the week.”

  “We’ll figure it out. But you should get home before they make up even more rules.”

  We sit up and fix our clothes so it looks like we were only watching the movie, then he grabs my hand and leads me upstairs. He pauses on the top step to kiss me and his mom’s voice carries to us.

  “…you know I adore her… worried because she’s not…”

  “You worry too much,” his dad’s voice is much clearer. “She’s good for him, even if she’s not…” and his voice drifts away, leaving me gaping on the stairs.

  I’m not what?

  Good enough?

  Smart enough?

  Black enough?

  Evan grips my shoulders and looks into my eyes. “Ignore them.”

  “How can I ignore that? They don’t think I’m good enough for you.”

  He glances in their direction like he can somehow know the rest of their conversation. Or maybe he does.

  “This isn’t the first time they’ve had this conversation.” It’s not a question, and based on how tight his lips get, I know I’m right.

  “I’m telling you, don’t worry about them. It’s stupid.” He pulls me against his chest and his lips brush my ear. “They don’t get to decide how I feel about you.”

  I want to believe him. To let that be enough. But how can it be when his parents clearly have a problem with me?

  We avoid the living room on our way to the front door. Evan leans in to kiss me goodnight but the heat from earlier is gone, leaving me cold and empty. I normally feel more myself here, but right now I just want to get home.

  I kiss his cheek and climb into my car. “See you tomorrow.”

  “Mike, please believe me.”

  I touch his cheek through the open window. I believe that he wants to believe he’s right. But I know what I heard and how it made me feel.

  Trail Rule #3: Sometimes the only thing you have to go on is your gut instinct.

  And I’m done being pushed around.

  Chapter 8

  Day one of not being pushed around went about the same as any other day. I ignored Brianna and Kenzie in first, continued ignoring Bri in second, then sailed through the rest of my classes. Now Cally and I are heading to the Crestpoint, our bikes shoved in the back of my white Bronco—”practical and safe,” Dad called it when they gifted me the very used beater on my birthday last month—and for the first time since I’ve started riding, I’m not nervous.

  “You sure you know where you’re going?” Cally asks, peering through the windshield. “I didn’t even know you could drive up here.”

  “That’s because you don’t drive,” I tease, but my tone is gentle. Cally’s got her license, but she has a thing about driving. Her mom died in a car accident when she was little and it freaks her out, so Blake and I take turns getting her from point A to point B.

  “Touché.”

  I park in the lot at the trailhead and we unload our gear. Cally’s dressed like me—fitted shirt and shorts—and I realize I don’t have anywhere to put the tools Evan insists I’m supposed to have on me at all times.

  “What’s wrong?” Cally asks.

  I hold up the kit with the all-in-one tool and other assorted things whose purpose I’m unclear of. “I don’t have anywhere to put this.”

  “Where do you normally put it?”

  “Evan’s pocket.”

  She looks from my pocketless shorts to hers. “Do we need it?”

  I shrug. “I haven’t yet but it’s like a rule that if you ride, you carry it.”

  “Have you ever used it?”

  “No, but…”

  She bites her lip. “We’re not doing anything hard core, right?”

  I shake my head.

  “Let’s just be super careful and next time we’ll make sure we wear something that can hold the toolkit.”

  My gut tells me we shouldn’t leave it, but I set it in the back of the Bronco. I send a good luck text to Evan, then toss my phone next to the kit and close the door. We mount our bikes and ease our way onto the trail.

  Twenty minutes later, I’m doubled over laughing as Cally screams her way down the hill toward me. On skis she’s fearless, but biking requires a different kind of balance, with different challenges and different ways to hurt yourself. Cally’s got better control over her body than I do, but a tree to the head hurts just as bad for her as it does for me. She slows as she nears the bottom, a huge smile plastered across her face.

  “Why haven’t I done this before?” She drops one foot to the ground and stretches her wrists. “That is a serious adrenaline rush!”

  “You ready to keep going?”

  “Heck, yeah!”

  I laugh as I hop back onto my bike and lead Cally through the next opening in the trees. I’ve never been the first on the trail—the leader—and it’s an unfamiliar feeling. And exhilarating. As much as I enjoy getting glimpses of Evan’s ass while navigating over branches and rocks, being forced to decide the route for myself fills me with a determination I haven’t felt since the day I tackled the black diamond at Eldora.

  We wind past trees and boulders and come to a stop at a small creek. I furrow my brow at her. “I must have made a wrong turn. This is new.”

  Cally scans the terrain, which looks like it’s been scorched by a fire. I notice the fresh wheel tracks when she does. “Someone’s been through here. Want to try a new route?”

  The elation at being the leader deflates like a leaky balloon. I’m about to tell her to take the lead when the distinct sound of crashing branches and squealing brakes makes us look up the hill. A woman in a purple shirt skids down the trail on her side, her bike nowhere to be seen. I expect to hear screaming or crying, but as she rolls to a stop against a tree, her laughter is the only sound I hear.

  Until a guy jogs down the trail carrying a bike. He sets it down next to her. “That was gnarly, Alex.” Recognition hits me like a jolt. It’s Mica. He’s cleaner than he was the other day and he’s wearing a different orange shirt. Must be his color.

  She props herself against the tree and looks up at him. “That rock came outta nowhere.”

  I glance at Cally, who’s staring at them, eyes wide.

  The girl, Alex, who I now realize is around our age, takes Mica’s hand and lets him pull her to her feet. Muscles ripple in her arms as she brushes dirt and twigs off her slender frame. Two long braids snake out from beneath her helmet.

  “I want to be her when I grow up,” Call
y whispers.

  Alex throws her leg over her bike as Mica hikes up the hill—I presume to get his bike—and notices us. She lifts a hand in a wave. “Don’t let me scare you. That turn’s nothing. Just took my eyes off the road for a second.” A smile creases her face.

  “Hey,” Cally says. “That looked pretty nasty.”

  Alex checks her arms and scowls at a streak of blood on her elbow. “Just stupidity. I let myself get distracted.”

  Mica bursts through the trees on his bike and a little voice inside me whispers I can see why.

  Where did that come from?

  He looks up and catches me watching him, but there’s no judgment in his gaze, just happiness. “Mike!”

  Alex looks at him as Cally faces me. “You know each other?”

  “We met last weekend,” I say loud enough for Alex to hear. I’m not sure what their status is, but I don’t want to start off on the wrong foot with a girl—woman—who a) could clearly kick my ass, and b) seems really cool.

  Mica smiles. “We told you about the Pow Cross. You entering?”

  “Pow Cross?” Cally echoes.

  Alex rolls to us and rests a foot on the ground. “You should totally do it. But,” she gives us a quick once over and bites her lip. “No offense?”

  Cally and I shrug, but a knot tightens in my stomach.

  “You’re gonna need better gear.”

  Cally runs a hand over her handlebars. “Yeah, this probably isn’t sturdy enough for a race.”

  Alex glances at the ground before meeting my eyes, but just for a second. Almost like she’s nervous.

  “What is it?” I ask.

  “Your clothes,” she says.

  Self-consciousness washes over me. I thought I looked good, if not a little ridiculous in all spandex, but I thought that’s what cyclists wear. And Evan never said differently.

  Alex pats her shorts, which are covered in pockets, go down to her knees, and are definitely not made of spandex. “You need something to carry your gear. And protect your ass on falls.” She points to where she made her entrance moments earlier. “Cushioning is your friend.”

  Cally laughs. “I’m all for cushioning. I’m used to snow breaking my fall.”