Just Like First Love

Ch. 4

I sped out of the parking lot trying to push the day out of my mind. Lindsay never outright provoked me anymore. I don't know why today she decided to attack me so publicly. And I thought Weston and she were over so what does she care? Not like I am hanging out with him. I avoid Weston at all cost, but it sucks being a small town and small college.

I occasionally had to see him on weekends when he frequented the same bars as me or occasionally at the body shop. The shop I work at belongs to his uncle, Tommy. In the worst but best-case scenario, no shop would hire me because of what's in my pants. So, I called in a favor with Tommy who worked with my grandfather and just happened to be Weston's uncle, but we didn't acknowledge that part. Tommy hired me on the spot, knowing my full value as a mechanic.

And what was with Weston saying sh*t like but not for long. I just didn't want to think about all that now, my bike was my happy place and I just wanted to enjoy riding

A little bit later I pulled up to the shop and parked my bike in the garage.

I adjusted my beanie and grabbed my bag. Tommy was a great guy. His wife died about three years ago after a drunk driver hit her, and now it was just him and his seven-year-old daughter Veronica. Everyone called her Ronnie. She has beautiful curly brown hair and the same piercing chocolate brown colored eyes as Weston.

Damn! Why was I thinking about his eyes? Those eyes that just seemed to take you all in, body and soul. But those eyes were my past and it was hard not to forget the way your body felt when they took you in. I walked into the office and said hi to a couple of guys before heading to the back office where Tommy probably was.

"Hey, Tommy," I greeted.

"Hey, Ava Grace!!"

A growl immediately left my lips, "I told you to never use that name. That name doesn't deserve to be spoken."

"Oh, come one Ava it's a beautiful name. Don't let him cloud that."

"We're not having this conversation again, Tommy."

Tommy was the only family I had left. Tommy used to work in the large racing circuit, which is how he knew my grandfather. I didn't know my grandfather, Pops as he preferred, before being dumped on his doorstep. The first thing he said after opening the door was that he was too young to be called grandpa; so Pops it was. I had never met any of my family before. But Nico Michaelson took me in without questions and showed me what a house filled with love and laughter could look like. He quickly became my best friend and helped me to move on from Weston Hayes. We did everything together. Pops was a world-famous Formula car racer having competed and won multiple Indy 500s and GP2s. He taught me everything there was to know about cars and bikes.

My favorite thing in the whole world was when he would take me to the garage he owned in the city. It exclusively worked on European model cars and motorbikes. Sitting around and watching the guys work on these pieces of art was a simple joy I never tired of. Of course, Pops would also take me to the track. Sitting in the car next to him was not a simple joy, but a true exhilaration. My heart felt like it would jump out of my chest as my eyes twinkled with pure glee. Finally, I knew what happiness and a loving home felt like.

In true Greek fashion, tragedy struck after 3 years. Pops had been asked to compete in one final GP2 as an honorary racer. During the race, there was a major collision on the course and Pops' car was left in ashes. I sat on the mechanics bench like I did at every race, watching his car flip, the glass shattering, the metal crunching and screeching. Unshed tears lined my eyes but refused to fall. It was if I let them fall that I was letting what happened to be true. I separated from my body. I didn't hear or see the medics rushing the course. I didn't hear my Pops' team members shouting orders. I didn't hear the deafening silence as people in the stands waited with bated breath. I heard the laughter my grandfather and I shared that morning. I saw his brilliant white smile light up his tanned and weathered face. I saw the embodiment of the happiness I felt.

Eventually, the blood rushed back into my ears and I was dropped back into reality. I saw them removing his body from the car and without hesitation sprinted to the field. I didn't listen to Brick, Pops' manager, telling me to come back. I didn't listen to Tommy as he chased after me. I pumped my 18-year-old legs as fast as I could to reach him.

I reached the car, the fire still raging, seeing his lifeless body being loaded up into the ambulance and immediately fell to the ground. I couldn't breathe. Suddenly, strong arms wrapped around me. Whispering soothing words into my ears. I could do nothing but let the tears finally fall. My Pops, my happiness, was gone.

I was set to start college in just 7 months. Pops was so excited for me. I knew I needed to persevere and attend college, like he would have wanted. But I felt so lost and so homesick for him.

Luckily, Tommy kind of took me under his wing my freshmen year after I wrecked my bike. I had always loved bikes but from afar. With the money that Pops left me, I bought a bike. It made me feel connected to him. I am the proud owner of a 2009 Benelli street bike and it means everything to me.

Unfortunately, I had never really ridden on my own when I bought it and ended up wiping out as I took a sharp curve and consequently needed some body work. It could have been worse.

After the accident, I tried to separate myself from the crew and anyone who reminded me of Pops, but I needed some repairs which led me back to Tommy. I wanted to learn more about bikes and fixing them, so Tommy took me in and taught me. When I decided I wanted to work at a shop but had issues because of my gender, Tommy worked some numbers and offered me a job. I owed him a lot.

Tommy is the only person who knows what actually happened with Weston. Despite being 20 years his senior, he wanted to beat the shit out of him for me, but I wouldn't let him.

Weston was my first love and though he broke my heart into a million pieces I didn't want anything super bad to happen to him. Plus, Tommy and Weston were family and you don't get in the middle of that.

"Fine, fine. Oh, by the way. There is another Indian back there for you to look at. Doesn't seem like too much of a dirty job."

"Ok, cool. Thanks. I'll just go change."

I walked to the employee area and slipped off my flannel. I kept on my jeans and crop top and slipped on my grease smock and buttoned it halfway up. I put my stuff away as I pulled my hair up and grabbed a donut from the coffee table. Sweets. My weakness.

I continued into the shop where a couple of guys were working on a Honda Civic. I exchanged greetings with them and headed on over to the bike. Indian bikes were beautiful, made especially for the purpose of racing. I set up my stuff and got to work with thoughts of Weston and Lindsay swirling through my head.