Meet Kristal Jane Anderson.
The girl that feels as though she was stripped from all the joys of life on one ungodly night. A night that changed her whole perspective on love forever, a night in which she stopped believing in it's existence, a night...
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Kristal Anderson
"So you're telling me you've been racing since you were fifteen,” My fingers traced the length of the shelf he kept all his trophies on.
I peeled my eyes from the shelf and turned to face him when he took too long to respond, he was sliding his left hand into his black leather glove that matched the rest of his biker gear. This was the first time that I was seeing him like this and God was my body having an embarrassingly strong reaction to it. The sight of him alone was enough to form very clear and graphic images in my mind that would be enough to put a nun in a 6-month coma.
But I had to contain myself, at least until he finished his race.
Tonight my Aiden decided to peel back another layer of himself and allow me to see a new part of him, he was allowing me to walk in and explore this part of him. And that was making me the happiest woman alive.
This was the big surprise he had for me; he had taken me to one of his races. We drove to the stadium that he had been racing at ever since he was fifteen and I couldn't be more thrilled; one because I had never seen any type of sport live and two- and most importantly- I was to see my Aiden race and I was going to be the loudest person there, cheering him on from the sidelines with so much pride in my heart.
When we arrived we went straight to his changing room as we were already running late because convincing Aunt Jenna that I was off to bed was particularly difficult tonight. Though our entry into the stadium was rushed, I still managed to get a glimpse of the crowd and the energy that radiated from their screams of ecstasy was intoxicating. You could feel it from a mile away.
His gaze was down at his hands as he secured the first glove in place with the velcro, a small smile on his face, “It was an escape, from my parents, from their fights, from everything. When I’m out there on the tracks everything just. . . melts away,” He kept his eyes down on his hands, never meeting mine. I took a few steps in his direction and I stood before him, that was enough to get his eyes back on mine. “I fell in love with it and I became damn good at it, I had every intention of doing it professionally. When my father found out that I wanted to race professionally I had just graduated college and he snapped, he couldn't understand how a son of his would rather race instead of following in his footsteps and taking over the business. So he gave me an ultimatum; either I forget about racing or I fuck right out of his life, I chose the latter,”
He brought his gaze down momentarily to slide his second hand into the glove, “But you’re working with him again now,”
He nodded, “I stayed out of his life for five years, and knowing my father I just know he made sure to use his connections to make life as hard as possible to prove a point because making that transition from racing here and racing professionally was impossible. The money we make here comes from bidding that the audience does, although we only get a small portion of it the rest goes to the man who runs this place, Don. It’s good extra money but it’s not nearly enough to make a living off of, so I had to put racing on the back burner again and get a job. I was a sales associate at a car dealership,”
