Read Online Motocross Me by Cheyanne Young - Free Book Online Page A

frowns and fluffs the pillow in her lap. “It’s the only thing he’s kept from me. We tell each other practically everything.”
    “Will he get mad at you for being friends with me if I start dating Ryan?”
    “Yes,” she says with no hesitation. “But he’ll get over it.”
    Shelby calls her parents and gets permission to spend the night (“Ash says thanks a lot for leaving him with the cousins from hell.”) and we veg out in front of my flat screen enjoying an I Love Lucy marathon. Not once does Molly, Dad or Teig come in my room. If I ignore the luxury pillow-top mattress under me and pretend Shelby has lighter skin and brown hair like Felicia, my new life would be exactly as boring as my old one.
    Well, that isn’t all true. Although my home life is as exciting as that of a fat housecat, my social life has improved ten-fold since moving to Mixon. I now have exactly two friends, (two and a half if you count Ash) a job, and a family.
    Oh, and a belly full of cheese bread.
    Three of the trash bags of clothing in my closet are open – the remaining mound has yet to be sorted through. I find the two marked pajamas, drag them in my room and launch them on my bed. Shelby eyes me as I rip them open and pile matching sets of tank tops and shorts on her air mattress.
    “I haven’t unpacked all of my clothes yet.” I point to the pile. “Pick something you want to sleep in.” I hold up a pink shirt with a faux-tuxedo printed on the front and its matching shorts, “Cute, huh?”
    “Wow.” She takes the pajamas from me and puts the shirt up to her chest. “ All of these are pajamas?”
    “Yep.” What can I say, Mom loved to shop and I loved to accompany her.
    “I don’t even own any pajamas, I just sleep in T-shirts.” She eyes the piles on my bed and chooses into the tuxedo set. I think of the beat-up cars she and Ash drive. That’s probably why she sleeps in T-shirts.
    We crawl into bed around ten, and although I’m not exactly tired, I know an early night means waking up on time in the morning. I face the wall opposite Shelby, because I tend to sleep with my mouth open and it’s embarrassing. Shelby’s mattress squeaks but it doesn’t sound like she’s laying it in it. I peek over my shoulder and see her kneeling on the floor with her hands clasped in prayer.
    I really like Shelby and her family. They are good people. The kind of people my dad would talk about when mentioning the motocross family to strangers. I close my eyes to give her privacy and silently apologize to God for never praying. And then I ask to please, please, please let Ryan like me.
     
     
    Shelby stays true to her claim of being a morning person and wakes up before I do. She changes into her clothes from yesterday and is brushing her teeth when I finally throw the sheets off me and climb out of bed. Her hair is silky and naturally as straight as mine would be after an hour of raking a flatiron through it. Lucky.
    I trudge into the bathroom and brush my teeth. Shelby sits on the edge of the Jacuzzi tub. She tells me about the dream she had last night, talking with her hands. Even at five in the morning, she’s awake and perky as always, while I feel like the living-dead and wish I had a coffin to sleep in for the rest of the day.
    Her dream retelling goes on as I brush my teeth, pull back my hair and throw my makeup. It’s not that I’m not interested, but it’s just so early in the freaking morning, I can’t help but zone out.
    When I look as beautiful as I can make myself, I venture into my closet and motion for Shelby to do the same. She rambles about princesses with fanged teeth and Prince Charmings who were coming to save her as I find something to wear. I’d need something sexy enough to be eye candy for Ryan but durable enough to walk around all day, drenched with sweat, and possibly survive another tumble down (or up) a flight of stairs.
    I settle on dark blue denim shorts and hold up two shirts to get Shelby’s