Nora Bennett was, and always would be, the prettiest girl I’d ever laid eyes on. I knew that at fifteen when I’d asked her to be my girlfriend. There was never a shortage of attractive women on the motocross circuit—from track chicks to super models, but none of them held a candle to her. Seeing her again was like casing a jump and having reality slam you into the ground.
But it was different now. I couldn’t very well throw her over my shoulder and beat my chest like a caveman. I’d lost my right to claim her a long time ago. Actually, I’d given it up. She wasn’t my girl anymore, despite what I was feeling.
“Real smooth,” my brother teased as we watched her drive away, I could just make out the taillights through the cloud of dust her dark gray Subaru was making. “She got out of here like her ass was on fire.”
“Maybe she was trying to get away from you two clowns,” I rebutted. But I knew better. I’d made some stupid comment and run her off, when I should have been groveling just to talk to her. I should have asked for a chance to apologize for the way things ended between us. My brother served as a good sounding board from time to time, but I sure as hell wasn’t going to admit that to Brett. As much as we razzed each other, the last thing I wanted to do was give him ammo. “Especially Sally over here… ‘The illustrious Nora,’” I mocked. “What the hell was that?”
“That was my way of letting her know that you think about her all the time,” he replied. “Pretty smooth if I do say so myself. You. Are. Welcome,” he smiled cheekily.
“You. Are. Insane,” I laughed, I had to—to save face and all that. “I don’t think about her all the time.” I couldn’t remember the last time I talked about her. “I don’t recall having any conversations about her with you.”
“Dude, seriously.” He ran a hand through his shaggy blonde hair and pushed it from his face. “And, I said you think about her all the time. Not talk.” He had me there. I did think about her. How could I not? She was the first girl I ever loved. Maybe it made me a chick, but she had a special place in my heart. Not to mention she was fine as fuck and God help me, I would never forget the first time I got to actually fuck her. Or the second. Or third. Or any of the times for that matter… everyone since had sort of fallen… short.
“You do,” Hoyt agreed when I looked to him for some brotherly support. “Think about her.”
Traitor.
Brett continued, “I’ve known you for what, eight, nine years now? Every time her name is mentioned or someone talks about having a girlfriend or settling down, you get this pussified look on your face and we all know exactly who you’re thinking about. Hell, when you first moved to Texas, every time you stayed over and you saw one of my mom’s Nora Roberts books sitting on the coffee table, you’d rub your finger over her name on the cover for a good ten minutes. Remember that?”
“I remember throwing a book at your head on more than one occasion.”
“Pretty sure you gave him a black eye once,” Hoyt interjected. He held up his hand for a fist bump and I couldn’t leave him hanging.
“You did,” he confirmed. “But do you remember why exactly?”
“No.” I had given Brett a black eye on more than one occasion. That’s just what guys do. We beat each other up sometimes for shits and giggles and then we move on with our lives.
“The first time was because I suggested that you hook up with someone else to get her out of your system. The second time was because I asked if you’d left your dick back in Illinois and had any plans of retrieving it.” He held up his hands defensively, when I took a step toward him. I was starting to remember exactly why I hurled that book at his head. I clenched my fists and kept my hand at my side. “And the black eye incident we were just speaking of was a result of me joking about taking a trip to Halstead and getting a piece of whatever ass was responsible for turning you inside out.” He kept his hands up.
He left out the part where he’d said, “She must be one hell of a fuck if you’re still this worked up over her. I really need some of that in my life.” I remembered though. It had pissed me off then and just remembering it now apparently had the same effect all these years later. No one got away with talking about Nora that way. Not even my best friend.
“Not that I ever would have,” Brett insisted. “I was just busting your chops.”
“Like she would have given you the time of day,” Hoyt said. Guess blood was thicker than water after all.
“For the record, I have hooked up with other girls,” I tried to steer the conversation away from me beating the shit out of Brett.
“Barely. You only take a girl home when your hand isn’t getting the job done. I’ve seen you grip handlebars. You can go months just whipping it in the shower.”
I rolled my eyes and walked back over to my bike. This conversation was going nowhere, and fast. Brett didn’t know the first thing about my sex life. Okay, maybe he did. I was happy to play wingman for him and my brother. They took girls home all the time. I hardly ever did. It wasn’t like I didn’t want to, but it was hard to find a girl that even held my interest for more than two seconds. The selection of vapid track bunnies just didn’t do it for me. I wanted someone that was capable of holding a conversation, and who understood exactly what my career demanded of me. The last thing I wanted to deal with was some clingy chick calling me every minute of the day. I’d told myself that it was because I was training or that I didn’t want to give a girl the wrong impression or have some crazy bunny boiler fucking up my career, but I think I always knew deep down that it was more than that. I’d been waiting for a girl like Nora. Or, by the way my heart is racing by seeing her now, Nora in particular.
“What’s your point, Sally?” I asked.
“My point is you’re still hung up her.”
“We dated years ago,” I countered but couldn’t deny it. I took in a breath and calmed my nerves. I knew that Brett would never make a play for Nora, and Hoyt was right. She has way better taste than that. “I was just a dumb kid. What was I supposed to do? Keep dating a girl that lived a dozen hours away? Give up my chance at professional racing for high school love?”
“Look man, I’m not saying that you should go ask her to marry you, but maybe while we’re here, you could clear the air. Let her know that you’ve thought about her over the years. Maybe a fling with her will be enough to get you through the next seven years.”
“Now, why would I do that? I was the one that broke up with her.”
“Yeah, but the way she was looking at you and the way she stormed out when you talked to her... I’d say you’re not the only one with unresolved feelings.”
I looked at my brother, who offered up a shrug. Anticipation bubbled in my chest just like it did before a race.
Fuck me, but it was hope. I had hope of at least seeing Nora again. No… I had hope for way more than that.
Maybe Brett was right. Maybe I did owe it to myself, and to her, to find out exactly what those unresolved feelings were. If nothing else, maybe I could get some karma points for making amends.
* * *
After we squared away our living situation for the next three months—Hoyt and I would be bunking up in the little cabin that sat on the back edge of the property, while Brett did whatever it was that Brett did in his Airstream of Sin—we decided to grab showers and head into town for some dinner. Hoyt had suggested we stock the fridge and get a good night’s sleep because we had to meet the construction crew bright and early the next morning, but Brett quickly threw out a veto.
“I just spent the last twelve hours driving to the middle of nowhere. I’m getting a drink and laid tonight and I don’t care in which order,” he’d said with fervor. I was torn. On one hand, I was exhausted. On the other, the possibility of seeing Nora again had me unable to think straight. And now that I knew she was still in town, I knew that on a Friday night, the chances of seeing her at one of the two bars in town were high.