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captivating smile and if I didn’t have a boyfriend that I love (despite being a little pissed off at him right now) I’d probably flip head over heels for this guy.
    “Well, thank you,” I say as the guy in the chef hat places my kettle corn on the counter. I take it and shove a handful in my mouth as lady-like as possible.
    Mystery guy helps me carry my food over to the bleachers where we sit on the bottom row. Normally I wouldn’t want to talk to some strange guy, but right now I like the distraction from how angry I am at Jace. Plus this guy and his cocky attitude just kinda screams douche-bag, so it’s not like I’m flirting with him. I’m just being polite.
    “So I take it you don’t know motocross,” he says after asking my name and a few other pointless questions.
    I shake my head. “Not really, why?”
    He shoves a nacho chip in his mouth and shrugs. “Because you aren’t batting your eyelashes at me and begging for an autograph or a picture to make your Facebook friends jealous.”
    I ponder that for a moment, wondering why the hell I would want his autograph. “Are you some famous guy, too?” I ask.
    He laughs. “I’m Ryan Russo. Number ninety-six on Team FRZ Frame Energy.”
    He watches me expectantly, I guess waiting for the metaphorical light bulb to turn on in my brain, making me remember who the hell Ryan Russo is. “Sorry,” I say with a shrug. “The only famous motocross guy I know is Jace Adams.”
    “ Psh,” he snorts, almost choking on his nachos. “That guy ain’t famous.”
    I cock an eyebrow. “Excuse you, yes he is.”
    He shakes his head. “Not anymore. He went and let a girl fuck his head up. Now he’s ruined.”
    Bits of kettle corn crumble under my fingers as I try to contain my anger at this stupidly-handsome idiot. I inhale a deep breath and then stand up, taking my food with me. “He isn’t ruined. You don’t know what the hell you’re talking about.”
    Ryan shrugs and glances out at the track in an effort to dismiss me. Well, I won’t let him dismiss me because I’m dismissing him first. With my food clutched to my chest and my drink in my other hand, I storm away from the bleachers and I don’t look back. I’m sure he has his own reasons for not liking my boyfriend, but I’m not going to sit around and listen to them.
    I’m especially not going to listen to stories about Jace’s ex-girlfriend.
    With nowhere else to go, I end up standing behind a row of plastic triangles that mark off the track from the rest of the motocross park. I set my drink on the ground in between my feet and munch on kettle corn while pretending to care about the bikes going around and around on the track. I know somewhere out there is that stupid girl Jace is training, so I don’t pay attention to the riders as they pass.
    Someone clears their throat next to me and I turn to see a girl with long brown hair, wearing a purple Mixon Motocross Park t-shirt. Walking up behind her is another rider, a guy dressed in riding gear with dreadlocked hair.  The girl smiles at me in a friendly way. “Ryan is an asshole.”
    I shrug. “I kinda deserved it.”
    She shakes her head. “No one deserves to be treated the way he treats girls. I saw you yell at him just now and I had to come tell you that even though Ash told me to mind my own business. I love him and all, but the boy should know that I never mind my own business.” She tosses her thumb backwards toward the guy behind her, who I assume is Ash.
    “Thanks,” I say. “I don’t even know him. He just insulted my boyfriend and I couldn’t handle it anymore.”
    Ash snorts as he messes with his cell phone. The girl punches him in the arm. “I’m Hana Fisher. Yes, that Hana Fisher,” she says with a quick roll of her eyes. I’m getting a little tired of people assuming I know who they are. Maybe in a town as small as Mixon, everyone is famous.
    “I’m Bayleigh,” I say with a shrug. “I have a last name but it doesn’t