***
I stayed with my mom until Sunday, then headed back to Austin. I was trying to pluck up the courage to tell James how I felt about him, but I had no idea where to start, what to say, or if he was even still interested in me. I felt like shit for not responding better to his gifts, but above all, I wanted him to call and tell me he still wanted me. I desperately wanted to call him and tell him I couldn’t wait to see him, but that last part of me wouldn’t allow it. I still didn’t want to show weakness, and I wanted to be chased.
On Monday, I was at work when lunchtime rolled around. I was trying to decide where to eat when I got yet another delivery. It was small this time. I tipped the messenger and sent him on his way, then opened the package to see I’d just received my lunch: a hamburger, fries, and one of those little mini bottles of champagne. There was a card that read ‘A delicacy where I come from.’ I couldn’t help smiling when I thought about the room service he’d ordered on that amazing first night.
I called him again. I had told him to quit with the expensive gifts and come up with something real. This package couldn’t have cost more than ten dollars, but it stirred up all the right emotions. That first night together clearly meant as much to him as I was now realizing it had meant to me.
“So, what are you doing this weekend?” I asked him as soon as he’d said hello. He must have been able to hear the smile in my voice.
Sucking air in noisily through his lips, he replied, “Bad news. I have to be in Argentina on Thursday.”
“Argentina, huh?” I quipped. “I haven’t been there in years.”
James
That changed everything. Summer would be there. I could switch right back into being excited about the race. The only problem was that the anticipation of her joining me made it hard to focus.
Still, Argentina was an amazing country, with a vibe and feel totally different from anywhere in the States. The small town of Termas de Río Hondo was known for its hot springs and spa resorts, but over the last couple of years, it had been revamped by having to host the annual Moto GP at the nearby track, or Autódromo. No grand hotels here, but there was a pretty nice spa called Los Pinos, about fifteen minutes from the circuit, which I usually booked team JSR into, but there was no kind of central hotel hub like you might find at races in major cities.
The local airport definitely felt newer and more modern since we were there last year, but the best car I could rent was still only a Nissan Maxima. As the team arrived, we unloaded the truck from the cargo plane, sorted out transport for everyone, and got on with the business of racing.
Friday was my first opportunity to get on the track. I had a nice morning session, getting everything dialed in. During my first lap after lunch, I went into turn seven a little too aggressively and slipped on cold tires. In the grand scheme of things, it was no big deal. What I wasn’t going to tell Keith and Ray was that I’d been daydreaming about Summer when I should have been concentrating on riding. Like all my other thoughts about Summer, these were none of their fucking business.
We hit the ground at about sixty miles per hour, and I slid along on my butt into the gravel trap, placed there specifically to slow sliding bikes and riders before they hit the tire wall. Laying still on the sharp stones, I wiggled my fingers and toes to make sure everything still worked. So far, so good. I picked myself up and dusted myself off. My leathers had no holes, and I seemed to be okay, so it could have been worse. Except I’d have to wait for a recovery truck to come and haul my battered bike back to the pits.
The problem with gravel traps was that when careening bikes flew through them, they tended to pick up a few pounds of loose stones in their engines, which could make it a little difficult to get them started again. That was racing, though. The wait for recovery meant we missed out on a lot of the practice session, so I cursed myself for not being entirely focused on the job at hand. Still, I couldn’t stop wishing Summer would get here. At least then I wouldn’t have to keep wondering when it would happen.