Romance: Young Adult Romance: The Perfect Game (A Highschool Football Romance) (Bad Boy Nerd New Adult Romance) (11 page)

''Ryan I've decided I want to end our relationship.''

''Nice one. Now, what do you
really
want
to talk about?''

''Ryan. Listen to me. I don't want it anymore. It's not right. You're my boss. I know I
've
let it go on for too long, but I hope you understand. It's not
right
.''

''Why do you want to stop?''

''I've told you. You're the boss and always will be. We will never have a relationship on an even footing. I have learned so much here, about business and
about.......
sex.''

''He smiled. Which have you learned more about?''

''Sex,'' she admitted.

''Okay. If you stay, you know I'll always want you.''

''That's just the problem. You're the
boss,
and I'll always feel like I have to give myself to you.''

''What about Paris?'' he asked.

''What?''

''Pierre, the developer we met, he told me he's looking for an international PA. It'd be great
for
you. A chance in a million.''

''Ryan,'' she exclaimed. ''That would be....fab.''

''Then I'll call him.''

*****

Alina lived and worked in Paris for the rest of her life. Every time she passed the Four Seasons George V Hotel, she remembered the night she'd first made love to Ryan.
She
saw it as the moment her great adventure began. If she'd hadn't made love to him, she wouldn't be in
Paris
and she would never have met her wonderful husband Jacques, or had her children Emma and Charlotte.

*****

THE END

Five years is a long time.  It would have been longer if my mother hadn’t up and got sick.  She was an old bat, crazy as they come, and to
me,
she always seemed invincible when I was younger.  I guess I was wrong.

I hated
her
while I was growing up.  We never saw eye to eye.  She was devout and resolute in her beliefs.  I was always the carefree spirit, ready to hit the road when the whim took me.  She probably hated that about me, kept wanting me to settle down and start a family.  She should have known that just wasn’t who I was.

When the taxi dropped me off in front of the old house, I wanted nothing more than to set the place on fire and leave, almost did when I was younger.  Too many memories
were made
in this house, and most of them I wished I could forget. 

The
house
looked as it always had, run down but taken
care of
.  The paint was faded and
cracking, and
the windows were so grimy they couldn’t
be seen through
.  The small white picket fence was still there, almost entirely knocked over now. 

I wondered what my dad would think of it after all these years.  I always thought of his grizzled face staring down
at
me from whatever cloud he was sitting on; judging as he always had.  I’d still received messages from him the entire time I was away, but they stopped after he caught a bullet.  I guess if you live as loud as he did, you’d end up in a grave sooner rather than later.

“Hey momma,” I shouted from the front door.

“Tara, is that you?” she replied from the den. 

I clomped around the house in my old motorcycle boots till I found her.

“Yeah, it’s me, momma.  How
you
feelin’
?” I asked.

“How the hell do you think I’m feeling?  I can barely get up to take a piss.  Get over here and give your momma a hug,” she said.

I learned from an early age that you don’t say no when your mother asks you to do something.  I leaned over her and gave her
a solid
embrace.

“Can I get you anything?” I asked.

“You can get me the last twenty years of my life back; that would do it,” she laughed only to start hacking and coughing.

I patted her back in a vain attempt to help her.  I looked through her prescriptions; one of which was
empty,
looked like painkillers.

“How about you just get me a refill on that before my aches start acting up again?  I was just going to watch TV
anyway
.”

“Alright, momma.  I’ll be back.”

“I think your old bike is still in the
garage,
if you want to use that to get around.  I haven’t had a car for a
couple of
years now.”

“I’m glad you never got rid of it,” I said.

“Some things you can’t get rid of,” she replied.

I gave her a kiss on the forehead and took the pill bottle, tucking it into my pocket. 

I went back outside and
circled around
to the old garage.  My dad’s old car was still sat there, waiting for someone to care.  I eyed my old motorcycle, peeking out from behind a canvas sheet I’d thrown over it years ago. 

My hand moved automatically, tugging the sheet away.  She was a killer ride, and I wondered how I’d gone so long without her in my life.  The day to day just didn’t have the same feel as it had when I was younger and more irresponsible. 

I ran my hand along the gas tank, wiping away the layers of dirt she
was covered in
.  She wasn’t the biggest bike, nor was she the fastest, but she was
mine,
and that was all that mattered. 

I threw my leg
over,
and a cloud of dust met me as I settled into the seat.  I jerked down on the starter and just as she always
had;
she turned over on the first crank. 

I hadn’t ridden in so many years; I started to get antsy.
  She wanted to be taken out to flex those old muscles.  I walked my way out of the garage carefully avoiding the old car. 

I started feeling that sense of freedom I’d had all those years ago.  The freedom I had when I snuck out late at night to meet up with my old boyfriend; the nights when
I
’d make a mistake and come home in handcuffs; even the nights when I wouldn’t come home at all, the memories were all flooding back.

I steered myself away from my old home and joined up with the road.  There was a canyon road that had some of the finest sights in the
area,
and I felt it the perfect time to see them, momma could wait a few more minutes.

When I was free from the town I let loose, my hair whipped in the wind, and the sun warmed my face.  I opened her up and leaned into the
corners;
I had these roads all memorized and could ride them blindfolded.

Then the familiar rumble of a motorcycle gang filled the canyon.  I sense of dread befell me; if it was the person I thought it was, then
I
had no idea what I’d say to him.  I pulled my cycle off the road and clicked her off.

From the bend in the road, a band of motorcycles
filed
out.  I didn’t recognize any of them, which left me with a feeling of relief.  But, the guys still made eyes at me as they
rode by
. 

I was used to it.  I’d had a lot of guys fight over me in the past.  But, none
were
as
strong
as Buck.  I once saw him beat up three guys at the same time just for looking at me.  He knew how to impress a woman.

There was a time when I would have done anything
for
that man, but he could never see me as his one and only.  I’d always catch him with another girl, and he never understood why I thought it was such a big deal.  If he wanted me to be his, then he needed to be mine.

Two of the bikers from the gang pulled off, and I knew what was coming.

“Hey there,” said the taller of the two that stopped.

“Howdy,” I replied. 

“Who do you ride with?” he asked.

“I’m with Buck and his boys,” I replied.

The two of them looked at each other,
in
a sort of horrified way. 

“Pleasure meeting you,” they said as they turned and zoomed back to their motorcycles waiting nearby. 

I laughed; Buck’s reputation was still just as
serious
now as it was before.  He had a bad
temper
and a lousy habit of letting everyone know. 

Despite all his faults, I still wanted to see him.  I somehow felt that he deserved to know that I was back in town.  Not a single member of his crew would come through without at least paying homage to the leader.  I felt no different.

I slung myself back in the saddle and kicked the old girl back on.  I tore down the road and towards the old bar that raised me; it wasn’t very far from here.

The Whiplash Tavern was a sort of landmark in these parts.  The sign outside was well past any state of repair.  The front of the bar was full of motorcycles of all shape,
size,
and color.  The signs in the windows hummed their neon tune as I eased my cycle into an empty place.

Before I could finish pulling in, I heard a loud crash echo from inside the bar.  Then what sounded like glass breaking, followed by the sound of a gunshot. 

Then I saw Buck, sauntering out the front door with another man held by his collar and his belt.

“You take your shit and stay out of my town,” shouted Buck in his grizzly tone.

He threw the man to the ground as though he were a sack of flour. 

“You’ll regret this,” said the man on the ground.

“I get told that a lot,” started Buck, “and I’m still waiting.”

The young pup picked himself from the ground and sprinted to a nearby motorcycle.  Another man, about his same size, ran out of the tavern and joined him.  They looked like they were in a hurry.

Then Buck turned over to me.  It was the first time I’d seen him in five
years,
and it looked like he hadn’t aged a day. 
He
was still the
barrel-chested
and grizzled man I’d known since I was a girl.  He towered over nearly every other man I knew, and when he wasn’t the tallest, he was still usually the biggest.  His cropped and disheveled beard was starting to show slight signs of
grey
, giving him a distinguished look, and his tattooed arms still looked just as strong as the first day I met him, maybe even a little bigger than before.

He clenched his
jaw
and let out a grunt before disappearing back inside.  Maybe he wasn’t excited to see me, and it made me a little nervous.

I entered quietly, but recognized everyone, and they all recognized me.  A loud cheer echoed through the small
establishment,
and I waved a meek hello.

“Thought that was your bike
comin’
down the road,” Buck said as he walked back behind the bar.

“I’m amazed you can always tell,” I said.

“I damn near built that bike myself,” he replied, “I know my
own
work.”

He shoved a beer my direction.  I took it and sipped anxiously.

“What brought you back to town,” he asked.

I couldn’t bring myself to look him in the eye, so I just stared into my drink.

“My momma’s
sick,
” I said.

He stayed silent and washed a glass with his dishrag.  He wasn’t one for words.

“I’ll be here a
couple of
months till she either gets
better
or dies,” I said, “and I don’t know which one would be better.”

“That old hag won’t die,” he started, “Paul knew how to pick his women.  And, he picked a good one.”

Paul was my Dad’s name; he used to run the gang here.  Buck was always his second, and when Dad finally kicked the bucket, all his assets went straight to Buck; the bar, his bike, and to some extent, me. 

“Whatever happens, I just don’t want to be here too long.  I got a new life to get back to.”

Buck slammed the glass
on
the counter so hard it shattered.

“Why the hell
you gotta
go
sayin’
stuff like that.  You just got
back,
and you’re already
fixin’
to leave.”

“I’m not
fixin’
to leave nowhere, yet.  But, my eye is always on the door,” I replied.

“I’ll never get what made you take off the first time.”

“The train of girls that was always
walkin’
out of your bedroom would be a good place to look.”

“I quit all that, and you know it,” he said.

“I never saw any of that,” I replied.

“Well, maybe if you stuck around like you were supposed to, you would’ve seen it.”

I turned to look him in the eye.  He still had that
soulful
glare; I could never tell if he was getting ready to break something or kiss me, but sometimes I’m sure it was both.

“I’m here now, Buck.”

He started sweeping the shards of glass from the bar with his hand. 

“That’s right, you are,” he said.

The men around the bar seemed entranced by our conversation, but as I looked around at
them,
they all did their best to return to their
normal
conversations.

“What’s that supposed to mean,” I asked.

He leaned over the bar, which I could hear
crack
and groan under his weight, and whispered in my ear.

“Now that you’re here, I’m going to make you remember why it was so hard to leave.  You always get me hard when you walk in the bar in those tight jeans.”

I wanted to have him, but I knew that if I
did,
I would regret it for the rest of my life.  I needed to keep that part of my past closed.  His boyish charms were the hardest to resist. 

I leaned over and whispered a reply in his ear.

“I can’t do it, Buck.  I can’t go back to that life.”

He stood back up, only to lean on the back bar.  I made the mistake of letting my real feelings show with my eyes, and he knew it.  I always had large expressive eyes; which were a blessing and a curse.  Buck told me, once, that he could tell what was on my mind by what showed through my eyes.  I didn’t want to believe it but knew it to be true.