Summer Forever (2 page)

He shrugs. “It wasn’t hard. besides, I’d been thinking about it a long time.”

“But Park!” I have to force my mouth to close since all it wants to do is hang open. “Racing is your life. That’s what you do. You’re no one without racing. You say that all the time.”

He shakes his head. “Not necessarily. I’m no one without dirt bikes. I can live without racing. Besides, I know you’re like the most encouraging person ever, but I had to face the facts. I’m no champion racer. I’m a top ten person. I always will be.”

“Babe, you can’t be so hard on yourself,” I say, knowing that it kills him when he doesn’t finish in the top three.”

“It’s not that,” he says. “Racing is tough. I had my time in the spotlight and I loved it. But it’s time to move on with my life. Like Jace did. Find a real career and not just hold onto the hope that I’ll win enough money to retire at the age of thirty.”

“You’re only twenty-two,” I say. “You have a long time to get better at racing.”

He shakes his head again. “I don’t want to. Besides, it’s done. Apparently someone still refuses to subscribe to the motocross news, because it’s been all over the web, people talking about my quitting.”

“Yeah well, call me crazy but I choose not to sign up for that stupid thing.” After what happened last time I looked on the motocross news websites, when I found pictures of Park with some super hot girl on his arm, I decided I’m better off in the dark about the world of professional motocross.

He runs his fingers through my hair, watching me carefully. “Becca, I did what was best for me. It’s not that big of a deal. Besides, now we get to spend more time together.”

I smile and try to swallow the lump in my throat. I should be happy, ecstatic even, that my long-distance boyfriend just quit his job and is becoming my in-town boyfriend. But quitting the world of professional motocross isn’t nearly the same thing as if I were to quit my part time gig at C&C BMX Park. In fact, it’s about a million dollar contract different.

He doesn’t say it but it doesn’t have to. I know he’s made these decisions because of me, because of us. So we could be together in a real way. It should be everything I’d ever dreamed of, but instead it feels like a nightmare.

How am I supposed to be happy that Park gave up everything for someone as boring and epically
not
special as me?

On Monday, I’m supposed to have lunch with Bayleigh and her super adorable baby boy, Jett. But then, thanks to the hyper awareness that Monday brings a person after a weekend spent making out and picking out paint colors with your boyfriend has deluded your thoughts, I remember I have an essay due for my history class on Wednesday.

It’s kind of a major grade in a class that I’m kind of close to failing, so as I much as I don’t want to work on it, I know I should. So instead of taking a two hour lunch break from work and meeting up with her, I ditch her very politely and apologetically via text message.

Work is slow on Mondays during the school year; the only people coming in to ride are older guys who gave up on school years ago. No one really shows up in the morning at all, because those kinds of guys definitely don’t wake up at in the morning, so I know I’ll be good to study.

My phone beeps and I check it to find a pleasant surprise. My Etsy store has sold another one of my canvas paintings. Well, they’re not really paintings per say. I use a canvas and I paint a quote on it, usually something inspiring or motivating. Sometimes the quotes are from famous people, other times it’s anonymous. Some of my art work contains just one word—like LOVE or LIVE or SUNSHINE. I paint the canvas and add mixed media pieces to give it dimension and depth.

It started out as a hobby based on my love of inspirational quotes, but Park encouraged me to sell my artwork on line. So far this week, my online shop has sold six canvases. Now, make that seven. I smile and get back to studying.

I’m standing behind the counter at work, pouring over my stupid college history textbook when the big glass doors slide open. In comes Bayleigh, lugging what looks like a super heavy baby carrier on one arm, Jett knocking around inside of it with every step she takes. In her other hand, she balances two Taco Bell bags, two drinks in the crook of her elbow, and her cell phone. The lanyard that holds her car keys is fitted between her teeth. She smiles at me in this crazed, over-worked mom kind of way.

I rush forward and grab the baby carrier, making goo goo faces at the baby as I relieve her of its weight, and I set it on top of the counter, right in the middle so there’s no chance baby Jett will fall off.

Bayleigh looks amazing. After a few months of depression from being stuck at home all day, she had decided to do something about it. Now she fixes her hair and gets fully dressed each morning, saying it helps her feel like she has purpose. It’s good to see her happy again. I know she stresses about not having an official job, but as her husband and I always tell her, taking care of the baby is a super important job.

“I know you said you’re too busy to go out for lunch,” she says, hoisting the Taco Bell bags onto the counter and handing me a drink from her elbow. “But you didn’t say anything about staying in for lunch, so I took some liberties and brought it to you.”

“Thanks,” I say, opening the bags and setting out their contents on the counter. Bayleigh and I eat Taco Bell in what we call Family Style—meaning we order a crap ton of food and randomly eat parts of all of it at once. “I only brought a Pop-tart for lunch so this is kind of awesome.”

Baby Jett watches us intently as we start in on our food and I feel bad that he can’t have any. Bayleigh gets some melted cheese on her finger and holds it out to Jett, who eagerly licks it, only to make a sour face.

“So when are you going to spill it?” I ask, eyeing her suspiciously over my crunch taco.

“Spill what?” She bats her eyelashes at me. “Can’t a girl just come hang out with her best friend without having any other motives of wanting to know all the juicy details about why her best friend’s boyfriend just totally moved down here from California?”

I laugh and throw a nacho chip at her, which she catches and promptly eats. “I don’t really know what to say about Park. I mean, it’s exciting but it’s scary, you know?”

She considers this a moment and then shakes her head. “How is it scary? It’s awesome. I was psyched when Jace moved down here.”

“Yeah but Jace already had ties to this state because he inherited his grandfather’s house down here. Plus, he’s like crazy in love with you.”

“Park is crazy in love with you,” she retorts. “And he has ties with you and his best friend, who happens to be my husband, who happens to live in Texas.”

I take a bite of a burrito. “Still scary.”

“No, what would be scary is if Park had asked you to move to California and then I’d have lost my best friend. I’m a very needy person,” she says with a smile. “I can’t have you moving across the country, you know.”

“Don’t worry, that won’t happen.” My phone beeps to signal a new text message. I lean over and see Park’s name light up on the screen. Without reading it, I slide the phone back toward the work computer and continue eating.

Bayleigh lifts an eyebrow. “Oh my God, are you thinking of breaking up with Park?”

“What? No.” My reply is quick. Too quick. Her eyes go wide and she grabs my arm. “Becca. You can’t lie to me.”

I shrug. “I’m not lying. I mean, I don’t know.”

Wow. That’s the first time I’ve admitted it both out loud and to myself. When it comes to my relationship with Park, I really don’t know. I mean, sure we had fun this past weekend but things were weird. An awkward nagging feeling tugged at me during the time we were hanging out, and I think he felt it too. It was like ever since the moment he bought that house, things have been different for us.

That doesn’t mean I don’t love him. I do, I just…

I glance up from my thoughts and find Bayleigh giving me a deadpan stare. “What’s going on? You can tell me, you know. I won’t tell Jace.”

Now it’s time to admit something I really haven’t been allowing myself to think. I take a deep breath. “I don’t think I’m worth it. He’s given up so much of his life for me, to be here and to be with me, and I just can’t stop feeling like it’s all a huge mistake on his part. I mean…look at me.”

The ten seconds of silence that follows my monologue makes my heart leap into my throat. Bayleigh isn’t immediately saying anything reassuring. She’s not doing her best friend duty to tell me what I want to hear. She’s just…watching me. Finally, her  smile contorts into something resembling pity.

“Honey, you need to talk to him.”

“I will,” I say. “We’re just eating lunch right now so I’ll text him back when we’re done.”

“No, I don’t mean that.” Funny how ever since Bayleigh became a mom, her I’m Serious And You Better Listen to Me face has become honed to Oscar-worthy perfection. “I mean you need to sit down with him and have a talk about everything. About why he moved here and your future together and all of that. If you don’t think you’re good enough for him, then he needs to assure you that you are.”

“And what if he doesn’t?” I say. “What if he can’t assure me of anything?”

“He wouldn’t have moved here if you weren’t good enough for him.”

I shake my head. “I don’t know. Maybe he moved down here for another reason and I’m just his girlfriend until he figures out what he wants to do with his life.”

Bayleigh grabs my half-eaten burrito and takes a huge bite. “Talk to him.”

I draw in a deep breath and let it out in a sigh, bringing my forehead all the way down to rest on top of my open history book. “You’re right,” I say into the pages. “I’ll talk to him.”

I don’t talk to him. For three days, I manage to avoid any serious conversations with Park and stick to just basic hello, goodnight, see ya later texts. It turns out that all of my studying for the history midterm did absolutely nothing for me, because instead of facts and figures and dates, the entire midterm was a two hundred question vocabulary test. Luckily, about half of the class also failed it and our instructor is allowing a retake to make up half of the points we missed. He had said we were lucky this was only “community college” because “real college” doesn’t work that way.

Seriously, screw that guy.

But now that I have a reason to lock myself up in my room for a few days and study some more, I use it to my full advantage and make it my excuse for avoiding Park.

And I
hate
that I’m doing this. Park. MY Park. The gorgeous, sweet, super freaking hot guy who I am currently dating and up until a few weeks ago, would have never believed that I’d avoid him like this. Things change though, and you can never underestimate the power of a guilty conscious.

Around five in the afternoon, I get a text from Park. Although I’m lying on my back on my bed, propped up by a bunch of pillows with my open notebook of vocabulary words in my lap, I’ve been accidently watching Netflix for the last hour.

Park:
Wanna grab some dinner?

Just seeing the word dinner makes my stomach ache. I’m starving and Park loves all of the same food places that I do. Brendan always whined whenever I wanted anything other than pizza or burgers.

Me:
Totally. Pick me up soon?

Park:
Be there in 20

Even though I spend the next few minutes getting dressed and brushing my hair, twenty minutes blows my quicker than it feels. There’s a knock at my door and I glance behind me, seeing Park’s truck waiting on the side of the road. With one last look in the mirror, I frown at how my highlights are growing out pretty terribly, and then open my bedroom door.

“You don’t have to knock and then wait out in the hallway, you know,” I tell Park as he walks inside my room. He doesn’t answer. He just slips his hands around my waist and pulls me toward him, making his lips crash into mine. As we kiss, the feel of him so close to me makes my heart ache with longing. I’m starting to think we’ll never stop kissing each other until I hear Mom’s footsteps on the stairs.

We pull apart and I take a few steps backward until I’m in front of my easel. Mom appears in the doorway. “Park said you were going out for dinner? Could you get me something to go?”

“Sure,” I say, feeling my chest heave with the leftover adrenaline of making out with Park just seconds ago. “We don’t know where we’re going yet.”

“That’s fine, just call me when you get there and I’ll pick something.” She digs through her jeans pocket and takes out a twenty dollar bill.

“It’s on me,” Park says, waving her hand away and flashing her that million dollar smile of his. Mom smiles and gives his arm a good squeeze. “Thank you, dear. I appreciate it.”

Behind his back, she gives me that little smirky smile thing that’s supposed to be secret code for how much she likes my boyfriend. I roll my eyes but deep down I’m glad Mom likes Park. Because I like him too. And I should really stop avoiding him and figure out a way to make this life with him perfect and not guilt-inducing.

Now if only I can accomplish that without throwing up on myself first.

“So is anything bothering you?” Park asks before he’s even taken a bite of his burger. We’re at a local diner, which ended up being our last resort when we couldn’t think of a better restaurant for dinner. But as it turns out, it was a great choice because the burgers are freaking delicious.

“Honestly, Park…” As soon as the words are out of my mouth I close it back up again and begin stirring the sugar around my sweet tea.

“You definitely need to finish that statement.” Park sets his burger down and looks at me. “You’re not about to break up with me, are you?”

“What? No!” I shake my head so furiously it might fall right off my neck. “No, babe. I love you. A lot.”

“Good,” he says, letting out a breath. “As long as that’s clear, take your time letting me know what’s wrong.” There’s a smile at the corner of his mouth as he takes a bite. “Damn these things are good.”

“That’s what I told you five minutes ago,” I say with a laugh. “But no…you had to eat fries first.”

He shrugs and takes another bite. “We should come here more often.”

I nod. “Totally.”

“So what’s wrong?”

I roll my eyes. “You told me I could take my time.”

“Yeah and it’s been like two minutes. Surely that’s enough time?” He winks at me when I give him an annoyed look.

“Fine.” I take a long sip of tea and then sit back in my chair, feeling a flood of nervousness pour through my chest. I don’t want to say these things but I know I need to. I can’t live my life this way, constantly worrying about stuff that might be fixable. I take a deep breath. “Okay, Park. Here’s what’s wrong. I love you and you love me and things are great,” I begin, feeling my fingertips shake with worry.

“How is that a problem?” he interjects.

“You moved here. You bought  a house. You’ve made like a million sacrifices in the last month just to be with me.”

He nods. “It’s called love. What’s the problem?”

“I—I just…” I close my mouth and breathe, trying to think of the right thing to say. “I worry that you’re getting ahead of yourself. That you’ve made too many sacrifices for our relationship and that maybe it’s not worth it. Maybe you’ll wake up one day and realize you don’t really like me that much.”

Park wipes his hands on the cloth napkin and then sets it back in his lap. His fingers clasp together in front of him and he leans forward just a little bit. “That’s not going to happen, Becca.”

“How do you know that?”

He shrugs. “I just do.”

My eyes burn with the sting of tears as I call forth the words I’ve been desperate to say, but haven’t yet. “How do you know you want to be with me forever when we haven’t even had sex yet?”

There. I did it. Quietly, so no one else could hear, but I did it.

“Becca. Is that what’s bothering you?”

I nod, looking at my hands. Now even this delicious burger doesn’t look appetizing.

He puts a hand on mine and squeezes it. “Honey, that’s not a problem at all. We’ll get there when you’re ready and it’ll be awesome and there’s nothing to worry about.”

“How do you know what? What if you hate hating sex with me? What if I’m terrible at it?”

He laughs. Actually laughs. “Honey I’m serious. That won’t happen. Trust me, sex doesn’t determine if a relationship is good.”

“Trust you?” I blurt out loud enough to make the couple in the next booth over look back at us. My hands turn to fists and I pull away from his grasp. “Right, okay. I’m so glad I can trust you on this.”

“Becca, what is wrong? Of course you can trust me.”

I shake my head, feeling rage and embarrassment and all kinds of stupid emotions crash into me all at once. I stand from the booth and toss my napkin on the table. “Okay well great. I’m glad you’re so freaking experienced in the subject that you can tell me without a doubt that sex won’t change anything. So glad you know that.”

“Becca…” Park goes to stand, but I turn away and leave. I don’t want to hear what he has to say. He can’t make it better. He can’t change the fact that he’s experienced as hell and I am so not.