21. The Trip

Background color
Font
Font size
Line height

I adjust the cap on my head and focus my gaze on the huge screen. Nervous excitement is palpable in the air around me. Fans are holding up handmade signs and banners, chatting loudly. It's a mix of languages and cultures, and I, a small-town girl, am a part of it, in Mugello, Italy, of all places.

"Come on," Dad groans and leans forward in his seat. "So close."

The crowd grows quiet as a rider overtakes Asher Williams. Frustrated grumbles reach my ears, and I bite my lip, following the nerve-wracking head-to-head battle between two expert riders with my eyes. 

The end of the race is near, and it's clear who the favorite is. Fans chant Asher's name and scream their throats off when the rider manages to get ahead of his rival.

Everyone jumps to their feet. We don't have to look at the screen now — the deafening rumble of the powerful engine announces Asher's arrival. Whistles and cheers accompany him as he rides to the finish line and raises his arms when the chequered flag is waved.

"Yes!" Dad smiles brightly and gives me a tight hug. I can barely hold in the emotions at the sight of the enthusiastic fans around me. Joy is radiating off everyone in my vicinity. It's not the last MotoGP race this summer, but Asher has already won many of them. He has what it takes to be the champion.

"Ready to meet the winner?" Dad asks me in a short while. I'm not, but I won't miss the opportunity many can only dream of.

I nod. Dad draws an arm around my shoulders and leads me to the paddock, where Asher is giving some interviews before heading to his motor home. We've already been here thanks to the paddock pass my dad has, but I still feel insecure, staying close to Dad and following the signs not to get lost.

We stand to the side, waiting for Asher to stop talking to one of the reporters.

When he's free, Dad grabs my hand, and we approach the racer.

"Asher, this is Leah, my daughter."

"Nice to meet you, Leah." Asher gives me a broad grin, revealing his pearly white teeth. His dark hair is a mess, and he smoothes a hand over it when Dad takes out his phone, ready to take a picture of the two of us.

Asher hugs my shoulders and leans his head against the top of mine. I blush and smile, partly because of how good-looking he is, but even more so because of getting a chance to meet one of the youngest and the most promising motorcycle racers, whose face appeared on the covers of sports magazines too many times to count.

"Thank you," I say to the guy who has been more than patient, letting Dad take several photos and then posing for another photograph with my dad and me someone from Asher's team took for us.

"You're welcome." Asher smiles and gives my shoulder a little squeeze, accompanied by a wink. "See you in Jerez in two weeks."

"Count on it." Dad beams. "Congratulations on your win once again."

The racer thanks us and stalks off to talk to more reporters. The adrenaline from the race might trump his exhaustion for now, but I'm sure it won't last long. The race had been intense. This whole trip Dad planned has been the most incredible gift anyone could have given me.

I suspected nothing when Dad told me I needed to get a passport months back. The idea of going abroad and visiting several countries used to seem surreal to me. It still feels like a dream, but now I have hundreds of colorful pictures to prove it's very much real.

Dad talks to a couple of colleagues who also traveled to the event while my eyes roam my surroundings, and my camera immortalizes every minute detail of what I see.

We leave Mugello Circuit an hour later. I yawn as I get into the convertible dad rented. Our next destination is different from the magnificent Florence we visited some days ago. Dad and I are going to Castiglioncello in Tuscany. It's a two-hour drive, and although I try my best to stay awake and enjoy the scenery on our way to the beach, my eyelids grow heavy midway through the journey.

***

After checking in at a hotel, Dad and I go out to dinner. He chooses one of the beachfront restaurants, and we sit at a small table on the terrace.

We ordered a seafood platter and some tuna tagliatelle. Neither of us speaks while we're waiting for the waiter to bring our drinks. I inhale the salty air, watching how the light breeze moves the white tablecloth that covers our table.

Some seagulls cry as they dive for food. I swivel my head and smile at the sight, making Dad chuckle.

"It's beautiful here, isn't it?"

"Very," I say. "Thank you. I still can't believe I get to see all of this."

"You had a difficult year, Leah. You deserve all of it and more."

Dad's gray eyes twinkle when he looks at me. He was a bit hesitant to give me affection at first, as if he were afraid that I would reject him, but we've grown close now. 

"It's been tough, yeah," I say. 

"Wanna tell me?"

The server stops at our table and pours white wine into our glasses. We thank the man, and I speak as soon as Dad and I are alone.

"Well, you know about Nash."

"I'm glad he took it well. You did the right thing. It would be unfair to lead him on."

"I know. I did hurt him. I just hope he doesn't hate all girls because of my dishonesty."

Dad smiles. "I don't think he will. And Axel's kid? Did the two of you talk?"

"We did," I say and take a small sip from my glass. "But Axel's kid will have to wait for me to come back. Tara told me he stopped by our apartment, and she said I went abroad."

"He must be worried." Dad sighs.

I squint at him. "Really?"

Laughing, Dad raises his hands. "What? Men also have their feelings."

"I had mine, too, but he disappeared for nine months."

"His parents worried about him as well, you know? I had dinner with Axel and Aria when I visited…"

"Wait…" My eyes flare. "You visited Mom, didn't you? More than once?"

"We needed to talk, and yes, I did."

Dad leans back in his chair and brings the wine glass to his lips. There's sadness in his eyes, and I regret mentioning Mom right away.

"I'm sorry," I whisper. "I know it's hard for you to talk about her."

"No," Dad shakes his head. "We have a daughter, Leah, and that reason alone is enough for us to talk and be civil to each other. When I saw your mom after all those years, I was mad at her — mad for believing lies and leaving, and mad for making sure I had no way to find both of you. What she did is hard to forgive, but I want to."

"Do you still love her?" I ask.

Dad nods just barely. "Always have. Grace was my first big love. To be honest, she was my only. I'm not going to lie and say I didn't try to move on in the eighteen years we spent apart, but nothing lasted. Nothing compared. And when I lost all hope, I found you."

"I'm glad you did."

Dad reaches across the table and caresses my cheek. His eyes are glistening, and I am a bit grateful for the waiter who interrupts the sentimental moment by putting our food on the table.

Laughter fills the rest of our dinner. We talk about the race and Asher, and dad tells me stories about his Motorcycle Club past and how his love for bikes helped him land a job that allows him to attend events of such magnitude.

I'm too full for dessert, but we decide to order some coffee and drink it while watching the splashes of bright orange and red in the summer sky. The sun hides behind the crimson clouds, and the terrace lights are on in no time. 

Dad pays the bill, and we head back to the hotel, exhausted after an eventful day.

Once I'm in my room, I take a long shower and grab my phone as I get in bed. Opening my Instagram account, I upload tons of pictures, smiling when I realize that Brian will see them. I made my profile public, knowing he will snoop as soon as he learns about my trip. That's why I make sure Asher's handsome face is in many photos. 

Barely five minutes pass, and the avalanche of comments has me giggling in my huge, soft bed.

Tara: Not wasting time. You go, girl!

Annie: Kenzie, I love you, but DAMN.

Mackenzie's comment appears fast.

Mac: I would be jealous, but that guy is a legend. Ask him for an autograph for a friend.

I reply to the three of them and put my phone on the nightstand, still smiling as I close my eyes.

***

It's barely five a.m. when I pop awake the following day. Quickly, I shoot a text to Dad, roll out of bed, and change into a bikini and a sundress. I slide my feet into a pair of pink flip flops, shove a bottle of sunscreen and a towel in my beach bag, grab my phone, and leave my room.

A sleepy receptionist smiles at me as I make my way out of the hotel. A short walk later, I'm on a beautiful beach with some seagulls as my only company.

I spread the towel on the still-cold sand and leave my things on it. 

My feet carry me to the water. I dip them in the sea and stand still, marveling at the crash of waves and fizz of foam as it sweeps ashore. 

A breeze ruffles through my hair and blows across my skin, raising goosebumps on it. I let the salty air into my lungs and relax.

For the first time in a long while, I feel peaceful and serene. 

My dream of traveling came true, and several eventful weeks are ahead of me. Dad and I will visit several cities in Italy and travel to Jerez De La Frontera in Spain for the next MotoGP race. 

I try not to think about Brian and the conversation we will have when I am back, and I choose to focus on myself instead. 

Tara told him I went on vacation with my dad, and Brian knows I will be back in July. Putting some distance between us was necessary. I need some clarity, and I need to decide whether I want to let him into my life again.

Brian has never left my heart and my thoughts, and I am just as drawn to him as I used to be when we met, but I deserve to be sure that I can count on him and know he won't leave me again.

I wiggle my numb toes and focus my gaze on the horizon, where the sun is slowly waking up. 

"Here you are."

Dad walks toward me and kisses my temple as he stands by my side, hugging my shoulders.

"I sent you a text," I say.

Dad smiles. "I know. I also love the sea. And the sunrise here is beautiful."

"It's spectacular."

My grin widens. This new day looks promising, and I am determined to enjoy every moment of it.

Hi, guys!
Hope you liked the chapter. It took me quite a lot of research and playing Moto GP on my Xbox to see how the whole thing feels. (I absolutely suck at it). That being said, the rider is fictional.

Thank you to those who messaged me. I'm okay; just a bit stressed out. Writing is my outlet, and it bugs me when I can't update often.

Thoughts? Wishes?

Love you!
A.




 




You are reading the story above: TeenFic.Net