Cycling Downhill: A Sweet Young Adult Romance (Love is a Triathlon Book 3) Read online

  Copyright © 2020 Chrissy Q Martin

  Cycling Downhill by Chrissy Q Martin

  Published by Swimmer Girl Books

  www.chrissyqmartin.com

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  All rights reserved.

  No portion of this book may be reproduced in any form without permission from the publisher, except as permitted by U.S. copyright law and for the brief use of quotations in a book review. For permissions contact:

  Swimmer Girl Books, P.O. Box 116, Tijeras, NM 87059

  Cover by www.100covers.com

  Formatted by www.FormattedBooks.com

  ISBN: 978-1-7354527-2-2 (Paperback)

  DEDICATION

  In memory of Maureen Thielen

  She inspired many students and athletes, including me.

  CONTENTS

  Dedication

  One

  Two

  Three

  Four

  Five

  Six

  Seven

  Eight

  Nine

  Ten

  Eleven

  Twelve

  Thirteen

  Fourteen

  Fifteen

  Sixteen

  Seventeen

  Eighteen

  Nineteen

  Twenty

  Twenty-One

  Twenty-Two

  Twenty-Three

  Twenty-Four

  Twenty-Five

  Twenty-Six

  Twenty-Seven

  Twenty-Eight

  Twenty-Nine

  Thirty

  Thirty-One

  Thirty-Two

  Thirty-Three

  Thirty-Four

  Thirty-Five

  Thirty-Six

  Thirty-Seven

  Thirty-Eight

  Thirty-Nine

  Forty

  Forty-One

  Forty-Two

  Forty-Three

  Forty-Four

  Forty-Five

  Forty-Six

  Forty-Seven

  Forty-Eight

  Forty-Nine

  Acknowledgments

  About The Author

  ONE

  “I love you.”

  The words spill from my mouth. They’ve been in my heart, but this is the first time I voice them. I kiss Paul immediately after because I’m nervous about his response. He’s told me he loves me, but my heart feels vulnerable telling him. Butterflies flit in my stomach and mask the pain of my injuries. I sit in a chair of the medical tent at the Spring Fling 5K. My right leg rests on another chair and an icepack covers my knee. Paul stoops at my side and his fingers brush across my cheek.

  “I’m sorry about Bridgette,” he says in his soft voice.

  I sigh. Bridgette may have won the high school girls’ category of the 5K because she tripped me, but I win where it counts. Paul has my heart, and he chose to kiss me over her. It shouldn’t surprise me because I’m his girlfriend, but it does. Bridgette is everything I’m not. She’s Paul’s best friend, a cheerleader, fast track runner, outgoing, and much prettier than me. Her hair has beautiful brown curls, while mine is a mass of frizzy brown waves. Bridgette’s figure is curvy and girly, while mine is not. Bridgette has everything a girl could want, except Paul. I’m the one in her way of him.

  “It’s fine,” I say. I don’t want to be the jealous girlfriend anymore. I trust Paul and his actions have shown me I can. It’s a tradition for the winner of the Spring Fling race to be awarded their medal and a kiss by someone they choose. Bridgette chose Paul, and she’s chosen him the last three years. Paul refused to kiss her this year because of me.

  “Let me take you home.” Paul helps me up from the chair. My knee is stiff and sore, and I have a serious case of road rash on my palms and forearms from the unfortunate incident near the finish line. I was edging Bridgette out for the win, until she tripped me. Bridgette claims it was an accident, but I suspect otherwise. I limp to Paul’s blue truck while he holds and supports me.

  “Paul!” A shrill voice yells.

  Paul opens the passenger door for me and turns to the voice. It’s Bridgette. Her jaw is clenched, and her fists are even tighter as she storms our way. We stand still in the parking lot, Paul bracing me, as we wait for hurricane Bridgette to hit.

  “Why’d you leave?” Bridgette demands. “You promised you’d give me my award.”

  The kiss. She wanted Paul to kiss her. They may be best friends, but Bridgette wants more from Paul. He either knows and plays dumb or he’s oblivious.

  “Ash is hurt. I needed to be with her,” Paul says. He turns away from Bridgette and helps me in the passenger seat. He shields me from the rage radiating off Bridgette.

  “You broke your promise.” Bridgette’s voice is clipped with anger. “You know what this means.”

  A heavy sigh emerges from Paul and he closes his eyes tight. He lets his fingers linger on my hand for a moment before closing the door and sealing me in his truck. He turns back to Bridgette and his hands move in an apologetic gesture. They talk in low voices and from the cab of the truck I only hear muffled sounds.

  Paul rubs the back of his neck and short sandy blond hair with his hand. Bridgette narrows her eyes and juts her chin out at the truck. She gestures at me, obviously not happy. I cross my arms over my chest and wait. I can either focus on the mental pain from Bridgette or the physical pain she’s caused me. My knee is swollen and the road rash on my hands and forearms throb in discomfort. After a couple of minutes, Paul walks around the truck and opens the driver’s door.

  “You have until tonight,” I hear Bridgette say. She gives me one last evil look and jerks around before heading to her car.

  Paul starts the truck and the noise breaks through the tense situation.

  “I’m sorry,” I say. Apologizing for anything and everything, even if it isn’t my fault, is natural to my personality.

  Paul clenches the steering wheel. “I’m sorry. It’s not your fault. I’ve messed everything up and I don’t know how to fix it.”

  “Things happen,” I say. “It’ll be okay.” I’ve become an expert this past year at not achieving my plans and messing stuff up, and somehow things still work out okay. “What was Bridgette saying about tonight?” I ask.

  Paul grinds his teeth together. I’ve seen him get this angry about Dylan, but never about Bridgette. He’s usually ready to defend her behavior. She may have gone too far wanting Paul to kiss her when I’m his girlfriend.

  “She’s mad I’m not spending much time with her lately,” Paul says.

  “Oh.” I pinch my lips together. Out of respect for me, Paul won’t be alone with other girls, including his best friend. I do the same thing with other boys for him, but I understand how Paul feels. My best friend, Nora, and I had the same problem last trimester. It can be difficult to balance a best friend and a boyfriend or girlfriend. As much as I don’t trust or like Bridgette, I’m still Paul’s girlfriend and can make an effort to help him with this.

  “Why don’t you invite her to hang out with us tonight?” I reach over and squeeze Paul’s tight
leg with my hand.

  Paul gently picks my hand up and turns it over. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.” He quickly glances at the road rash covering my palm. He lifts his eyes from the injury Bridgette caused and focuses on the road ahead. “I’ll figure out what to do about her later. Let me get you home.”

  At my house, I recline on the couch with my leg up and an icepack on my scraped and swollen knee.

  “Can I get you anything?” Paul asks. He’s been extra attentive this morning.

  “Another donut?”

  Paul smiles and grabs my favorite chocolate donut covered in chocolate frosting and coconut from the box on the coffee table. He hands it to me on a napkin.

  I take a bite, famished from running hard. “You decided on Eastern?” I ask.

  Eastern is a smaller subset of the State University and it’s on the eastern side of Minnesota. Paul and I visited the campus together months ago. Paul’s been keeping his college choice a secret from me because he doesn’t want to influence my decision. I only found out this Saturday morning where he’s decided to go.

  Paul nods and takes a bite of his donut.

  “I made a decision on college,” I say as if I’m announcing what we’re having for dinner.

  Paul wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. “You did? Are you taking the scholarship?”

  “No. I want to swim,” I say. “I’m going to Eastern.”

  Paul sets the remaining half of his donut on a napkin on the table. There’s a long silence and I wait.

  “But what about the scholarship? You have a full-ride,” Paul says.

  “I’d rather swim,” I say. “It won’t cost much for me to go to Eastern.”

  I’ve thought this through long and hard. I’ve been offered a full-ride scholarship to play water polo for the new team at the State University. I enjoy water polo, but I don’t love it like I do swimming. The thought my tuition rides on me playing a sport I don’t really love isn’t fair to those who want to do it.

  “Have you let them know you turned down the scholarship?” Paul asks.

  “I have until Monday. I’ll let them know then.”

  “You should think about it a little more.” Paul picks up his donut. “This could be a good opportunity for you. I’d be jumping at the chance for a sports scholarship if I could get one.”

  “I’ve already thought about it,” I say, feeling defensive. “Eastern has a swim team, a good education program, and it’s a smaller school. Plus, you’ll be there.”

  “You’ll only be an hour away at the State University,” Paul says. “That’s why I didn’t tell you where I’m going. I don’t want you making a decision based on me.”

  There’s no good way to answer this. If I say I made the decision not based on him, it looks as if I place no value on our relationship. If I say I made the decision based on him, it looks like I’m not valuing myself. I’m somewhere in the middle.

  “I made the decision on a number of things, and mostly on the fact I don’t want to play water polo,” I say.

  “You should think about it a little longer. I don’t want you making a decision you regret.” Paul brushes his hands off and slides closer to me. I adjust my position on the couch and turn into him. I can’t help but smile. He’s so cute with his short sandy brown hair, blue eyes, and sprinkling of freckles.

  “It won’t be the first time,” I say. “I have to make my own mistakes.”

  “I should have done more to stop one of them.” Paul’s thinking of when Dylan fake dated me to distract me from swimming. Coach threatened Paul to stay away from me during swim season and he did, but Dylan swooped in and disrupted my plans.

  “Do you not want me to go to the same school as you?” My insides twist at the thought of being away from Paul. I can’t even fathom the thought of losing him.

  “It’d be a mistake to miss out on an opportunity like this because you’re following me.” Paul runs his fingers along my jawline and brings his face close to mine. His breath is warm and softly scented with chocolate. My heart beats in a staccato rhythm, anticipating his kiss. “We can still be together when you go to State,” he whispers, and his lips brush mine.

  Blood rushes through me, setting me on fire. How does he make me feel this way? “But what if I want to go to Eastern with you?” I whisper back.

  Paul’s fingers dance on my cheeks. “I love you. Take the scholarship, Ash.” Then he kisses me, a long kiss where my mind only focuses on him. Paul knows how to break me, and I give in to the thought of taking the scholarship.

  TWO

  Paul leaves me to head home and change from the race. I also clean up but move at sloth pace with my injuries. After a shower and a change of clothes, I settle back on the couch with a fresh icepack. I flinch in pain when I bend my swollen knee and reach for my phone. There are some messages for me to catch up on. I call my mom, who is staying the night at my grandparents’ house to help them with some projects. I text my brother, Jacob, to let him know I’m home. He’s spending the night at a friend’s house. I quickly text Nora and notice I have another text from Dylan. He asked about the race earlier and knows I crashed.

  Aquaman: How R U doing?

  Me: Banged up, but okay

  I recline on a throw pillow and wait for Dylan’s reply. He always texts back and tries to get the last word in. Paul can’t stand Dylan, which is why I have him as Aquaman in my phone. The former best friends agreed to a truce for me and Paul accepts the fact I’ve settled into a friendship with Dylan. Paul doesn’t understand how I can forgive Dylan for being blackmailed to fake date and distract me from swimming. I don’t understand how Paul can’t see Bridgette’s motives. A little nudge at the back of my thoughts tells me I should try to be friends with Bridgette. I’m friends with Dylan, even after what he did to me, but the difference is Dylan apologized and wants to be friends with me, while Bridgette doesn’t.

  Aquaman: You never answered. Did he kiss her?

  Me: No

  Aquaman: Good for him. How are your injuries?

  I take a photo of my road rash and swollen knee and send it to Dylan.

  Aquaman: Ouch. Wish I was there to catch U

  Me: Plans for tonight? A date? A party?

  Aquaman: You wish

  I do wish for it. Dylan may have conceded I’ll win our bet, but it’s still going on. He bet Paul and I won’t last as a couple until graduation. Even though Dylan says I win, he’s stubbornly upholding his end of the bet by not dating or partying until graduation.

  The front door creaks open and I type out one more text.

  Me: Paul’s here. Gotta run. Have a good night

  Paul walks in as I send the message. “Texting Nora?” he asks.

  I place the phone on the coffee table. “No,” I say and pause. I could stop here, but I don’t want to keep more things from Paul. The bet with Dylan is the only secret I’m keeping from him. “Dylan wanted to know how the race went.”

  Paul’s body freezes for a second. He does that anytime there’s a mention of Dylan. “What’d you tell him?” Paul rarely says Dylan’s name.

  I shrug. “Just that I crashed.”

  “I’m sorry,” Paul says again. His mood takes a dive, and a frown coats his face. “It’s my fault.”

  “It’s not.” I shake my head. “You weren’t anywhere near me.”

  My phone pings. I know it’s Dylan getting his last word in.

  Paul gestures at my phone. “You text with him often?”

  “Not much,” I reply as Paul’s phone chimes.

  I know Bridgette is texting Paul and I grab my phone. I turn the screen on and bring up my texting string with Dylan.

  Aquaman: Have fun with Turner

  “Here.” I hold my phone out to Paul. I don’t care if he sees Dylan’s profile as Aquaman. I’m not going to hide it from my
boyfriend.

  “What’s this?” Paul takes my phone.

  “You can see what we text.”

  Paul only glances at the phone before he looks at me with a surprised expression. He pushes my phone back at me. “You don’t need to do that. I trust you.”

  I take my phone back and tighten my lips. Paul isn’t going to offer to let me see his phone, and he ignores the text Bridgette just sent. I’ll trust him, even if my gut tells me something is wrong.

  Paul and I spend the afternoon together and I manage to hobble around with his help. In the evening, we end up on the couch again, and another ice pack covers my knee.

  “Thanks for taking care of me today.” I intertwine my fingers with Paul’s. I love how it feels like he fits perfectly with me. His long fingers wrap around mine.

  “I’d do anything for you,” Paul says in his soft voice.

  “Can you believe we start our last trimester of school on Monday?” I turn to look at Paul. It’s still amazing to me to think we’ve been together fifteen weeks. Our four-month anniversary is in a few days.

  Paul places a kiss on my forehead and brushes loose strands of my wavy brown hair away from my face. “I don’t see how it can be any better than this one.”

  “It has to be,” I say. “We’ve already been accepted into college, the weather will be warming up, and the last trimester of your senior year is supposed to be the easiest one. Then we also have spring break.”

  The heat of Paul’s body seeps into mine, warming me up from the ice on my knee. Even though it’s early March, it’s still winter in Minnesota. It was chilly running this morning.

  “You always have plans,” Paul says.

  Do I? I feel like I haven’t done much planning lately. I had plans and none of them worked out. Paul’s the only thing guiding my plans right now.

  “I’m going to Eastern,” I say in a whisper. I told Paul I’d think about it, and I did. But I know what I want this time, and nothing can change my course.

  “Are you sure?” Paul says it like I’m making a bad decision. “You still have until Monday to decide.”

  “I’m sure.” This decision is clear in my mind, and I’m usually horrible at making decisions.