Girl on Track

48| Out of bounds

The next few nights, I barely sleep. I keep replaying the night I broke Tyler's trust, only I dream of a different outcome, one where I choose to be honest and we live happily ever after. But as always I wake up, alone and tangled in my bedsheets, remembering that dreams are just that: dreams.

And yet the tiniest part of me wonders if maybe it's for the best. As hard as I've tried not to think about it, competing with Tyler for first place in the tournament would have been hard, if not impossible. The pair of us, head to head, both desperate to cross that finish line first – it's relationship suicide. At least this way, we're no longer distracted. I can focus on the one thing that brought us together in the first place.

Winning.

I sit up in bed and glance at the clock, which reads four a.m. Today is the day I can safely start training, so I intend to make the most of it. I down some raw eggs like I'm Rocky and change into my riding gear before heading to the track.

The whole ride there, I can't stop thinking about my parents, who've been arguing more than ever this week. Dad has shut down since his doctor's appointment and will only ever utter I'm fine, even though it's clear he's not. Mom's in denial, trying to remain hopeful and positive throughout, which only ends up irritating Dad.

The end result is an explosive argument, with Dad accusing Mom of being delusional and her of him of being pessimistic. I've been caught in between, pulled back and forth between sides like a rope that's on the verge of fraying. Maybe that's why, with this week away from Tyler, I'm starting to see things more clearly. My parents are proof that even the most solid of foundations can crack, so what hope did I stand with Tyler anyway?

Despite the fact the roads are quiet, I seem to hit every stoplight. I wait impatiently, foot-tapping as I desperately wait for it to change to green. Right now, the thought of racing the circuit today is the only thing holding me together.

As soon as I pull up, I scan the track for him out of habit. The tiniest flicker ignites in my stomach before it quickly fizzles out. Of course he's not here – he's already made it clear he doesn't want to train me, and I've already decided it's for the best.

So why do I feel disappointed?

Ignoring the knots in my stomach, I ride a quick lap of the track to warm up. It's easy for the most part, and other than the slight twinge now and then in my ribs, I forget that I'd ever gotten hurt.

In fact, for the first time all week, I don't think of anything at all. I just focus on the rush in my chest as I charge up the hill, the throttle of my bike propelling me faster. And just like that, I'm soaring through the early morning sky, nothing but the wind beneath my wheels. I suck in a breath, anticipating the drop ahead, but I'm not scared of hitting the ground. Every high must follow a low, and that's what makes it worth it.

I spend hours practicing the various techniques Tyler taught me, as well as new ones I'd learnt from the practice race. At first, it's hard to focus on Tyler's advice and not Tyler himself, but then racing takes over, and soon the only thing on my mind is winning the tournament, the way it should be.

By the time I'm finished, the sun is coming up and Alex is opening the cafe. Sam, to my horror, has appeared out of nowhere and is waiting at the end of the circuit. I think about riding another lap just to avoid having to see him, but my legs are starting to ache. Reluctantly, I finish my lap and pull up in front of him before flicking up my helmet.

"You really need to get a life," I say.

He pushes himself off the barrier and says, "My life revolves around money, and I have a lot of it riding on you."