Racing to You ✓

29 | racing

Here I was again, in the stands as Deandre geared up for his first race of the season. 

He had been spending most of his time training, to the point I was sure the track wasn't even his second home anymore -- it probably edged out his actual apartment. Even though he never said it out loud, I could tell the exhaustion was getting to him, so I volunteered to accompany him to the gym once. It was a distracting session for the both of us, as I simply ended up sprawled on my yoga mat watching him, completely mesmerised, while he got more self-conscious by the minute. 

Outsiders may not realise, but to navigate a heavy machine at high speed over several rounds around a track took more strength and stamina than what it seemed to. Watching Deandre's gruelling workout sessions only increased my respect and admiration, and I understood the desire for all the training to pay off. So here I stood, buzzing with anticipation alongside Makua, Theo, Sasha and Joshua. 

It was the first time Theo and Sasha actually spoke to each other, and in true Sasha fashion, managed to divert the attention to Joshua who soaked it all up. By the time the racers had all lined up, Theo was Joshua's new best friend. 

Makua chuckled. "Stop bouncing. Don't send out nervous energy to Deandre." 

I ignored him, holding my breath as the countdown began, the roar of the crowd deafening me. 

And they were off. 

Deandre had explained that in the ten minutes of the race, the key tactic was to give it his all just like everyone did in the first turn. The adrenaline usually subsided, so it relied heavily on discipline and stamina. He also had to visualise the track as a seamless flow, finding the momentum of one terrain connecting to another, even though to my untrained eye, it was just a rocky road.

I kept my eyes on his green bike as he maintained his speed, smoothly clearing tabletops (the 'ramps'), but not really fighting to overtake just yet. It was also about timing and fighting smart, not hard. It was only when they rounded a bend when he snuck past a rider, making Makua whistle and Joshua squeal in excitement.

"I'm impressed," Makua commented. "He's pulling off flat turns well."

"What's that, exactly?" Theo asked.

"When the track is still relatively smooth, with no berms – the packing of dirt from the tires as the riders dig it in. In Canadian terms, think of it like a fresh ice rink versus people having skated on it. You don't get much friction on flat turns, so people usually lose speed to try to not slide out. Deandre's using his weight well though – leaning away from the turn to counteract the bike's weight and balance out, all the while keeping his hand on the throttle."

"What are those hills?" Joshua inquired, pointing towards the triples.

"They're called triples," Makua replied. "Three big, consecutive jumps. Most people land on the downside of the second one, and launch off on the third, but some manage to leapfrog the second jump and end up straight on the downslope of the third. It's a risk, though, because you could land on the upside of the third one instead – whoop, just like that."

A rider had indeed gotten stuck on the triples, resulting in being overtaken. I winced, despite having no connection whatsoever to that rider. I was used to competition – the entertainment industry was full of it – but watching people race like this, side by side towards a finish line, stressed me out, even as just a spectator. Makua always teased me for cowering whenever watching sports in general, especially the national scale ones – there was Canadian pride on the line. 

The riders zoomed past us, engines shrieking. While Makua revelled in the 'power and might' of it, in his words, the rest of us cowered a little bit but craned our necks for Deandre. He was probably in the first three now, closing the gap as he went along. He was on the tail of the rider in 2nd place when he got cross-jumped mid-air, as the rider cut in front of Deandre in an attempt to block him off.

Joshua's eyes twinkled. "That was cool!"

"Wrong team, buddy," Sasha said dryly.

Makua tsked. "Cross-jumping is pretty taboo, it's like someone trying to knock into you to cut your line."

Deandre's rhythm indeed had been thrown off a bit, but he recovered and raced after the rider in front of him. They were neck to neck on the next tabletop, and Deandre managed to manoeuvre himself right in front of the other guy, even brake checking him at a turn. I grinned. It was the pettiest I had seen Deandre in a race, but the crowd relished in it, shouting and hooting.

"Yes, that's it, pinch him off!" Makua bellowed.

I snorted from laughing too hard. "You know he can't hear you, right?"

Makua waved a dismissive hand at me. "Let me relive my glory days."

The distance between the first rider and Deandre was too big of a gap to close, but the thrilling – rather nerve-wrecking in my opinion – aspect of the race was the fight for second. The crowd was still on their feet from when the first racer finished, and to my pleasant surprise, there were cheers for Deandre.

Sure enough, Deandre emerged victorious. His coach helped him off the bike, aggressively praising him while clapping him on the shoulder. Deandre ripped off his helmet and stumbled, bracing himself with his hands on his knees. The sight of him curling in on himself made my heart squeeze, and before I knew it, I was running towards him.

"Deandre!" I cupped my hands around my mouth as I called out to him.

He wearily lifted his head at me, but his brown eyes were sparkling. He hauled himself upright and made his way towards me, albeit limping a little.

I zeroed in on his limp as he neared me. "What happened? Deandre, are you okay? Don't lie to me. Sit down."

He let out a breathless chuckle. "My bum's a bit sore, but I'll live."

"You were amazing," I gushed. "Not gonna lie, I thought you were going to end up third right then."

He shook his head with a smile, taking his gloves off. "Come here."

I bit in a yelp of surprise as he cradled the back of my head with one hand and cupped my cheek with the other. Without pausing, he brought his lips crashing down on mine. It was unlike how we had kissed before – this was deep, passionate, and he didn't seem to be coming up for air.

I was the one who gasped for breath, all too aware of the blood rushing to my cheeks. His eyes had darkened, and I was enchanted by the tumultuous emotions that cascaded in them.

"Whoa," I exhaled shakily. "That definitely wasn't from Friendship 101."

His mouth twitched. "Definitely not."

"Come home with me," I breathed. "Come to Hawaii." 

He broke out into a full grin, in its dazzling glory. 

I met him halfway when he leaned in for another one.