Arch

Chapter 13

When I finally come around from the shock of the cold from the shower, I'm pressed against the wall by a strong, firm body, and I rest my head on his chest. I thank whoever I need to for the freezing cold water; otherwise, I would have the biggest hard-on, and I'm embarrassed enough. I can't focus while he's this close, all wet muscles and tattoos, and as I lean against his hard chest, I can't help but hang on to his hips, gripping tight. My heart is racing, and my breaths are stuttering, and the whole time, I'm hoping he doesn't notice it"s him, not the cold that's making my heart pound in my chest. He tilts my head back, asking if I'm okay, and I shake my head because I'm not. I'm not even remotely okay.

I have to push him back, and he steps away. He's barefoot and only wearing grey joggers, which are wet through and honestly, my mouth waters at the sight. I can see the fabric clinging to everything, and I sigh. "You… you brought me back last night?"

He nods. "Me and Jay."

I push against him again but sigh. "I'm okay, erm…"

He steps back and sharpens his gaze on me, "Don't worry about it," he says as he stalks out and slams the door behind him.

I stand there, shell-shocked, for the longest time before I peel my clothes off and warm up the water. Once I've stopped shivering, I wash myself off, slide down the wall into the bottom of the shower, and curl up, hugging my legs. I feel like death, and I can't feel anymore mortified at the reaction I just had to him being so close to me, to the way his body makes me feel, and to the way he makes me feel something, anything. I don't know what it is, but it's something other than being alone.

Once I finally rise from the bottom of the shower, I head into the bedroom. The bed is stripped and in a bin bag, and the floor has been cleaned. I can't believe he would do that, and now I'm even more confused than ever. What does it mean? Why did he look after me, and why did he do… everything else?

I don't know if I can face him, and I'm not sure I should be riding today, but I also can't bear to hide away in the motorhome, so I grab some food and try to hold it down, and I try to calm my breathing. I look out of the window and can't see anyone, so I try to slip out of the motorhome, but as I close the door, I hear his friend. Jay, was it?

"Hey, princess, how are you feeling this morning?" He chuckles.

I spin around on autopilot to be my usual obnoxious self, but Ryder is standing beside him. He doesn't say anything, but he crosses his arms over his chest, and I let out a breath. I take a step towards them and then another.

Looking down at the floor, I rub my hand up the back of my neck as I feel the heat rise up my cheeks. I glance at them through my lashes but drop my eyes back down again just as quick. "Erm… thank you." I slide back and go to turn, but Ryder's gravelly voice rings out.

"You okay?"

I nod, don't turn back, and scurry away, more embarrassed than anything else, but my attitude and bravado have well and truly disappeared for the moment, and now I just feel embarrassed and deflated.

After scrutineering, I head to the starting line, and I avoid everyone. I'm still hungover, embarrassed and ashamed of my behaviour, but also, after what Ryder did for me, I'm struggling with my emotions. I want to be him. He's sexy, confident, tough, well-liked, and kind butmanly. I want to be with him, and he's never going to want anyone like me, not after everything I've said and done. I need to refocus and get my walls back up after he bulldozed them down. I'm feeling exposed and vulnerable.

I stare down the course. I don't pay attention to the people on either side of me. I can feel him close by, and I can almost sense him. I close my eyes, take a deep breath, and focus on the task. I compartmentalise the emotional stuff. I don't have time for that, and I can't afford for anyone else to see me as weak, vulnerable or scared. I'm terrified, but I need to push it all back down. Ripping the throttle back, I shoot forward. My bike is one of the fastest, so I get away from the line fast. Adrenaline shoots through my veins, and I concentrate on that, the one thing that will get me through.

I hit the first jump at full throttle, sailing into the air. It feels like I'm up there for an eternity, and I try not to puke. The weightlessness fucks with me, and my mouth waters, but I fight back the bile. It's a split second before I come crashing down. I rip the throttle back again to reach the next jump, hitting that square in the middle. I fly through the air. I'm distracted as I see someone pulling ahead of me in the air. I whip my head to the side as Ryder inches in front of me. As we meet the ground, he's a second in front, so he hits the throttle, reaching the bend before me and cutting across my line, making me pull up so I don't smash into him. I rip the throttle back and take off after him. He glances behind, and I'm sure I can see the grin spread across his face. He clears the corner and hits the whoops perfectly, his back wheel hitting every single one as he accelerates away from me. How the hell is he doing that on that piece of shit?

Just imagine what he could actually do with a great bike, a sponsorship and being part of a team. He would be unstoppable. I smile as I take off after him, I'm actually enjoying this, and I think this is the first race I am having… fun. He glances back at me as he turns into the next bend, slamming his heel up and skidding around the tight apex. I can't help but smile as I give chase. This is the most intense foreplay I've ever experienced as we hit the straight. I rip the throttle back and squeeze out all it can give me, and I catch him. I'm so close I could almost taste him, and I groan at the thought.

I'm not sure what's happening, but I'm starting to feel things I never thought possible. I'm starting to care about someone else other than myself, which doesn't sound like much, but for someone who has never cared about anyone, not even my parents, this is a whole strange sensation, and I can't fathom how to deal with it, but rather than shit all over it like I normally would, I actually want to feel. I want to feel it all.

Taking turns and jumping, I relax and enjoy all the smells, the sounds, and the feeling of euphoria as I ride harder than ever before. Coming in second behind Ryder, I don't feel angry or disappointed. I feel excited for the first time in years. Ryder pushes his bike towards his van, and I follow behind, pushing mine. One of the team comes to collect it, but I wave him away. It's not something I've ever done, wheel my own bike back, but there's something empowering about it. Maybe it's things like this I'm missing out on, the experience, so to speak. Maybe I should be fixing my own bike, getting dirt under my nails and relishing in the little moments. Ryder stops at his van and mounts the bike on the stand. I stop beside him, leaning the bike against me. I take off my helmet, hang it on the other side of the handlebars, and peel off my gloves, tossing them in the helmet.

I cough, and he spins to meet my gaze. I stick my hand out.

"Great race," I say, forcing my face into a smile to try and hide how uncomfortable I feel at the gesture. He takes his helmet off and then his gloves before looking down at my hand. I suddenly feel vulnerable again and start to retreat within myself as I reach back for the handlebars, but he sticks his hand out and grips mine firmly and tight before giving me that devilish smirk. "Great race, Arch."

I beam the biggest smile at him. Arch, I like the way he says that. I like the way it sounds in his gruff voice. It shoots to my stomach and makes the butterflies dance, and I realise I want to hear him say my name like that all the time. I try to keep my cool and nod, walking away and pushing my bike back to the truck where my team are waiting to prep it for the next race.

Once I drop the bike off, I realise I don't know anything about bikes other than riding them. I head back to the motorhome. I slide in through the passenger side door and climb through so I don't have to see Ryder. I don't think I can function if he talks to me again. I change quickly and take my usual place by the window. I watch him work on his bike, cleaning it first before fixing the bits that need to be fixed. Dropping the oil and tidying the tape on the plastics, when he gets hot, he removes his shirt and my mouth waters and dries simultaneously. His skin glistens with sweat, and his muscles flex as he moves, using the tools with expert precision. He works with his dad and Jay. They laugh and shove at each other, and a pang of jealousy hits me.

My dad has never really paid me any attention. I was raised to be seen and not to be heard unless my dad paraded me at the country club, then I was expected to be a carbon copy of him. I would stand at his side, nod where appropriate, smile and shake hands, but never have an opinion, never ask a question, to be the perfect child, the groomed version who is expected to take over my father's business when he retired. I studied business at university, and this, the bikes, are supposed to be a hobby to keep me out of my father's way till I'm needed. Then I'm supposed to step in when he clicks his fingers and be his clone, run things how he does, and be a yes man for him.

But for the first time, I want this. I want to be me, whatever that looks like, and now the attitude seems to have been knocked out of me. Well, for now, anyway. I can't help but wonder who I really am? Archibald Bartholomew III, what kind of businessman will he be? What kind of businessman does he want to be? But really, what kind of person does Arch want to be? Because, in reality, I want to be Arch so bad. Archibald was the wanker, the entitled prick. Archibald is the bully, the one who has no friends other than those he pays, bribes, blackmails, or bullies. But Arch… he seems like the guy I should be. The guy I could be, the guy I want to be, and hopefully the guy Ryder would want to be with. Or at least be friends with.