24. My Full Time Job

TWENTY-FOUR

MY FULL TIME JOB

Collide, Howie Day

Santiago

Roe’s ass is backed up against me and I have to pull my hips away so my boner doesn’t poke her. She said she’s a morning person and that she can’t sleep past 5:00am, but it’s seven and she’s still out. Deeply asleep. If it wasn’t for the fact that I can feel her breathing I would consider shaking her to see if she’s even alive.

She softly wiggles a couple of times before her body stiffens beneath mine. “Good morning,” I whisper and I sound raspy. My voice is not hiding the need I feel but I try to fix it by removing my leg that has been over her body all night. It’s numb, so I sit up and massage it, giving Roe time to recover from whatever she’s thinking about.

“What time is it?” is her response, but before I can answer she looks at the time herself. “Shit, Saint, we’re late.” She hops off the bed, grabs clothes from the drawer and runs to the bathroom to change. She comes out with a sports bra and running shorts. Her beautiful hair is down and her whole body is on display. Definitely not doing my boner any favors. She runs back to the bathroom and I hear a soft hum, like an electric toothbrush. I take this opportunity to get up and splash some cold water on my face from the kitchen sink in hope that my body gets the memo that we’re not touching Roe today.

We’re both dressed and out of the camper quickly, with breakfast sandwiches in our hands. I make these and freeze them every month. It pays off when the day after the race my whole body hurts and they are ready to go, or when a certain bossy woman sends us walking out of the camper with zero time to cook. She’s almost sprinting toward the peewee track and I have no clue why. She said it herself that she had no other siblings or family.

We make it to the peewee track and she runs toward the front, looking for something. Looking for someone . She starts shouting and waving her hands, jumping up and down. When a little girl with big bright blue eyes looks back and waves back at her before sitting on her bike, I know she found who she was looking for. The kid’s parents snap on her helmet and the countdown begins. The parents move back from the starting grid and the miniature riders take off.

They do a good job and race for about thirty minutes. All the parents are shouting and clapping as they go by, stopping to pick them up when they fall or helping them off the track once they’re exhausted. Roe screams for a little girl—Emma, from what I can tell—every time she goes by us. After her parents and an older sibling who is also already dressed head to toe in gear congratulate her and take pictures, Roe approaches them. I follow along, giving her space.

“Hi, Emma,” Roe says approaching the kid who is currently looking at her like she hung the moon.

“Hi Ms. Sorelle,” she replies shyly.

“Now what did I say about my friends calling me Roe, little babe?” She ruffles her hair before adding, “You did great out there, way to rip!”

“Thank you, Ms. Roe,” she says, getting off of her bike and looking at her parents, silently asking for permission. They nod and she runs to Roe, who’s squatting down with open arms. Emma holds her in the tightest hug and she says, “Thank you for coming to see me.”

“Are you kidding me? I wouldn’t have missed it for the world,” Roe exclaims.

They talk for a little bit longer and Emma’s parents take a picture of the girls, and they all wish her good luck on her race tomorrow. Emma adds how she will be watching and Roe says that she will win just for her.

We walk back to camp; the distance seems longer now somehow but maybe it’s because we’re taking our time as opposed to running like gallinitas ciegas? 1 .

“So who’s Emma?” I ask, trying to make conversation and see if I can get more info from her without spooking her again.

“I met her yesterday when I was walking the campgrounds. She had a printed picture of me that she wanted me to sign. It was the sweetest thing. I looked up the peewee riders and saw her name so I wanted to watch her race,” she explains and man, I didn’t know she liked kids that much.

“So you like kids?”

“I do, but not enough to raise them,” she states matter of factly.

“What do you mean?” I ask, dumbfounded about how honest she is. Except for when you ask about a topic she doesn ’ t want to talk about.

“I mean, kids are cool, you know? So pure and wholesome and usually without a care in the world. We need more of that. Gentle souls walking around. But raising them? Raising a good human for this fucked up earth? Nah, I’m not cut out for that. Knowing me, I would fuck them up so badly, they’d be the next serial killer,” she says nonchalantly as she keeps walking.

“Okay, so, no kids in your future?”

“None of my own. I always thought I would be the next cool aunt but my lack of friends and siblings proved me wrong on that front.” She stops momentarily when we make it to the trailer, grabbing her riding pants and sliding them up her body. She’s so confident and gives zero cares about who sees. I kind of like that about her. A lot.

“I bet you want your own soccer team, huh?” she asks. I look at her with confusion on my face. She notices and smirks, saying, “Kids, Saint, kids. I bet you want a bunch of them.”

“Are we at that step in our relationship, princesa? Talking about kids?”

“Oh, shut up, you brought it up first.”

“Actually, I don’t think I want kids,” I answer honestly. “I like them but it’s a lot of responsibility. I want to be the cool uncle too.” I take my shirt off in one quick swoop then drop my shorts. I have impact shorts underneath so I’m not really naked, but by the look on Roe’s face, you would think I am. Her eyes flare as she looks at my body. I’m proud of the body I have, but right now under her gaze, I feel invincible. “Like what you see, princesa?” I ask her with a smirk and she rolls her eyes and puts on her jersey.

Once we’re both geared up and ready to grab our bikes, we head to our practice round.

At the grid, I spot Marco but he has no gear on. Makes sense since he said he wasn’t racing. He’s spotting Joey’s bike so I pull up next to them. Marco nods his head at me at the same time that Joey waves to Roe and me. Marco, on the other hand, ignores her completely. She doesn’t seem to notice but I do. She might be focused on what we’re about to do since this track is challenging.

I hate this track and so does she, so we talk about our plan to try to stick together during practice. I’m surprised she agreed to that and that she shared how much she hates this place. I know that hasn’t been easy for her, so I take it. I’ll take every second she’s willing to be vulnerable. Every second she lets down her guard. Because one of these times, she might not put it back up. Even if she does, I have a feeling I will gladly tear it down.

The practice round was challenging. The damp areas felt like clay, making the tires grip to the edges of the tread and flinging chunks of dirt everywhere. Roots were out and raised so lots of people crashed, forcing us to maneuver around them.

We’re currently sitting outside; Roe is on her Kindle and I’m cooking dinner. It’s hot and humid tonight. The gnats are flying, annoying anything in sight but not Roe. She’s just casually sitting there, her hair up in a ponytail, her legs over the armrest and her nose in the Kindle.

“What are you reading?”

“A dark romance,” she answers nonchalantly.

“What does that even mean?”

“Mm, antiheroes? Morally gray characters? Heavy topics? And sometimes more.”

“Interesting,” I reply, still very confused. I don’t really know what any of that means but I also don’t read fiction at all.

“What about you, Saint, any secret hobbies I need to know about?” she asks, twirling her ponytail around her fingers and looking at me from under her dark lashes.

“No, I like cars so I work on them. I like bikes so I ride them. I like my family so I spend time with them,” I say and leave it at that, looking at her and not dropping her gaze.

“What about women?” she asks. “What do you like doing with those?” She puts her Kindle down and her elbows on her lap, smiling at me.

I walk to her slowly, with intention. Showing her that I’m not intimidated by her or her questions. Showing her that I’m here, an open book to her, and she can ask away. I squat down, so my face is level to hers on that stupid tiny chair she’s sitting on.

“Women? I can sit here and tell you exactly what I like to do with women because there’s not even a slight hesitation in the fact that I do add women to my priority list.” I swallow and bring my thumb to her chin, swiping gently up to her cheek. “But I don’t want to talk about women. Right now, there is one woman in particular getting all my attention. There’s one woman who I want to make my sole purpose. Only one who I want to show exactly what I like to do. But leave no doubt behind, princesa, I don’t want to make this woman a hobby. I want to make it my full-time job—to know her, to worship her, to adore her, the only way she should be treated.” She catches a breath and I let go of her face and grab our dinner from the grill.

Like I said before, game on, princesa.

1 ? Gallinitas ciegas: it’s a children’s game but in this instance it’s used as a reference like running with your head cut off.