by Lisa De Jong
“I’m sorry, but that’s not happening,” he says lightly, tugging on my ponytail.
I want to beg, but other than the whole is-this-thing-going-to-kill-me argument, I have nothing. My mind is a dictionary of blank pages.
“Besides you,” he says, “this is the one thing that’s better than fishing. We’re going to get on here and just ride with no destination in sight.” His voice is low yet resonant … I swear it could come out of a two-faced monster and still be sexy.
“What if it rains?”
He shoves his hands in his pockets, looking up to the sky. “It’s clear blue with a hundred percent chance of being sunny for the rest of the day. I think we’re good.”
Damn him. He’s so good that he doesn’t leave me any room to argue, and that says a lot because I always have room to argue.
“You ready?” He passes me a helmet, running his fingers through his wind-blown blond hair.
“Where’s yours?” I ask.
He shrugs. “I only have one.”
“Isn’t it dangerous to be on a bike without a helmet?”
“No, if something happens, the helmet’s not going to help much … not on the highway anyway.”
He’s not helping to ease my nerves … at all. “Then why do I have to wear one?”
Grabbing the helmet from my hands, he pulls the straps out and gently places it over my head. His hands stay there a little longer than they probably need to. “Because it makes me feel better.”
I’m really going to do this, I think as I peer through the tinted visor. I’m going to get on this little machine with nothing over my head, going God knows how fast. This can’t really be anyone’s idea of fun … can it?
He climbs on the motorcycle, leaving just enough space on the back for me. “I promise to go five miles under the speed limit since this is your first time. Now hop on.”
Someone must have encased my feet in cement while I’ve been standing here because I can’t move. Fear is a crazy little thing, but the only way to get over it is to face it. My mind wants to, but my body isn’t on the same program yet.
“Lift one leg over the cycle and hold on to me tight.” He smirks like he finds this amusing. I kind of love-hate him right now.
I take one more deep breath and hoist my leg over the top, centering myself on the seat. I wrap my arms around his waist, burying my face in his leather jacket. “Is this too tight?”
“No, you’re good.”
“Then let’s get out of here before I change my mind.”
AS THE MOTORCYCLE PULLS out of my driveway, I’m worried that I won’t feel balanced, but it’s different than I expected. The seat I’m on is only inches wide, yet I feel comfortable, and the farther we go, the more relaxed I become. Sam starts out slow, but as my arms loosen around him, he gives the bike more gas.
There’s something freeing about this—traveling down miles of open road with fresh air hitting every part of me. We move at a comfortable, steady pace as if nothing else matters. The engine screams loudly, but it keeps the unwanted thoughts away. It’s just us now. It couldn’t be more perfect. We pass cars and houses as we go, but to me, it feels like we’re the only two people who exist.
I rest my cheek against his leather jacket feeling the smooth, cool material against my skin. It smells like the perfect combination of leather and his usual cologne.
We pass miles and miles of country land—fields waiting to be harvested, farm animals such as cows and horses, as well as a few lakes and rivers. People who live in the mountains wouldn’t think it’s much, but it’s always been home to me. Peaceful. Flat. Safe.
After two hours or so of riding, we pull into one of the many small towns that exist in the area. It’s not big enough for stoplights; in fact, we only encounter one stop sign near the town center. Sam stops behind it and takes the opportunity to rest his hand on top of mine, lightly rubbing my exposed skin with his palm. “You doing okay back there?”
“Perfect,” I reply, squeezing his waist once.
“I knew you’d like it.”
And just like that, it’s time to ride again. His hand leaves mine, and I immediately ache to have it back again. Being with him on the open road is intimate in a way I’d never imagined. His warm touch is the only thing that’s missing.
We pass through three more small towns before driving into one slightly larger one. It’s not a city by any means but its downtown is filled with tiny shops and restaurants—the specialized type you won’t find anywhere else.
Sam pulls the bike into one of the only open parking spots and braces his feet on the ground, looking back at me with sexy as hell aviators shading his eyes. I need to convince him to wear those a little more often. “You hungry?”
I nod, feeling the hollowness in my stomach. I was enjoying the ride so much I didn’t realize how much time had passed.
“Hop off, but be careful. Your legs might be a little shaky.”
I do as he asks, carefully lowering myself to the ground. He was right about my legs; they vibrate like they’re still wrapped around the moving bike. To be safe, I stay where I am, watching him put the kickstand down and lift his leg off the bike.
He stands right in front of me, a vision of the gorgeous bad boy types that always get me in the movies. I know better, though … when it comes to Sam. He might look badass, but there’s a huge heart inside that broad chest. One that cared about me enough to help me through a lot of shit, even when he wasn’t getting much from me in return.
His large hands grip either side of the helmet, gently pulling it from my head. “That’s better,” he says, placing it on top of the handlebars. When he turns back around, his fingers reach up and brush the hair away from my face. “You’re sexy as hell in that helmet, but I like looking at your beautiful face more.”
My cheeks heat instantly. Sam’s always been honest, but our new status as a sort-of couple has completely unfiltered him. “I like your glasses,” I say, momentarily taking the filter off my own thoughts.
He slides them down just enough so I can see his eyes. “Are you flirting with me?”
“Maybe,” I answer, consciously biting my lower lip in a way I know will drive him crazy.
He pushes his sunglasses back up his nose and cups my jaw in his hand, tipping my face to his. “I spent so much time talking you into getting on this bike this morning that I forgot something.”
The fire in his eyes tells me exactly what he’s talking about … what he’s about to do. I want him to kiss me. No … I need him to kiss me. When I said I wanted to take things slowly, I didn’t mean we had to stop kissing. That part of our relationship just feels right.
His thumb brushes across my lower lip, sending shivers down my spine. “Are you going to kiss me? Because if you’re not, I think it’s time to go eat.” My voice is low. I’m baiting him, and by the creases at the side of his eyes, he knows it. He likes this game as much as I do.
“I can’t decide,” he teases. “Why don’t you tell me what you’d rather do.”
“Kiss me, then feed me. Please.”
His mouth forms a small smile as his tongue darts out to lick his lower lip. Slowly, he moves closer. I shut my eyes, and an anticipatory song starts playing in my mind. It gets louder and louder, until his warm breath tickles my lips. And when we finally touch, everything goes still again. The music stops and the only sense that’s still in use is touch. I feel him on my skin and deep inside my heart. The one empty place he reserved a long time ago has now been checked out. A part of me has always been there for him.
Our lips brush, the tip of his nose lightly nuzzling mine. It’s a perfect mix of sexy and sweet that he repeats, his body moving closer so our chests touch. There’s a part of me that wants more when we’re like this, but I also know that for now, it’s enough.
He breaks contact only to reinstate it seconds later, pressing his forehead to mine. “That’s just the start of what I’m going to show you later,” he whispers.
; My body tenses. I don’t know what he’s promising, but it might be too much for where I am right now. Cory left a hollow space inside of me, part of which I know can only be filled with time, but there’s also a space left by pure loneliness. It’s one that will never go away unless I patch it up with something else ... not that I really consider Sam to be a patch.
“Hey,” Sam says. “Come back to me, baby.”
I blink a couple times, clearing the fog from my head. “Sorry. I’m just—”
“Hey, all I was referring to is another kiss. A better kiss.” His hand grips the back of my neck as he kisses my temple, allowing his lips to linger there a few seconds. “Let’s eat.”
Without another word, he entwines his fingers with mine and leads us toward a little diner across the street—Bonnie’s. It doesn’t look like much on the outside, but when we step inside, it’s packed. It’s decorated in retro fashion with red leather seats and black-and-white décor on the walls, mostly pictures of old movie stars and musicians. It’s the kind of place you step into and immediately want to order a burger, fries, and shake. Maybe even put on a big, pink poodle skirt.
“Does this look okay?” he asks.
“More than.” I smile when I see a waitress carrying a huge piece of apple pie with a pile of vanilla ice cream on top. It’s one of my favorites.
A waitress in a red Bonnie’s T-shirt comes up to us. Her brown hair is pulled up on top of her head in a neat, round bun, and a warm smile lights her face. “Welcome to Bonnie’s. It should only be a few minutes, and we’ll have a table cleared off for you.”
“Thanks,” Sam says, wrapping his arm around my waist.
My nose is filled with the aroma of fries and onion rings. I’m not usually a junk food eater, but those two things are hard for me to resist. Deep-fried deliciousness.
“Rachel?” I look to the right and spot Kate walking toward me. What the heck is she doing here? We’re practically in the middle of nowhere.
“Hey,” I say, stepping out of Sam’s grasp. I wrap my arms around Kate and hug her tightly. It’s been a while since I’ve seen her.
She steps back, keeping her hands wrapped around my forearms. “What are you doing all the way out here?”
I grin, glancing over my shoulder at Sam. He’s standing by himself with his hands tucked into his pockets. When he sees me looking, he winks and takes one hand out to brush his thumb along the corner of his lips. All I can think about is the feel of them on my lips from just a few minutes ago. Looking back to Kate, I notice her smiling, too.
“So?”
I clear my throat, nodding back to where Sam stands. “We were on a motorcycle ride and stopped to grab something to eat. I didn’t realize what town we were in.”
“Welcome to Carrington,” she says, waving her hands up in the air.
“Shouldn’t you be back at school?”
“We had a three-day weekend so Beau and I came back home to work.”
“Is he here now?” I ask, glancing around for my old roommate.
“He’s working with his dad, but he is going to stop in after. Should be here in thirty minutes or so.”
“I haven’t talked to him in a long time.” I didn’t realize how much I missed Beau until now. Always wise. Always doing what’s right. Kate’s a lucky girl.
“Just admit that you miss seeing him in his towel.” She laughs, trying her best to stifle the sound by covering her mouth. I absolutely love this girl and the sound of happiness that emanates from her; it’s not something I heard often when I first met her the beginning of freshmen year.
A hand comes to rest against the small of my back, and I look over to see Sam standing beside me. “Who do you miss seeing in their towel?”
His eyes are narrowed in on me, and I still hear Kate laughing. She’s about to get me in a whole lot of trouble.
“My boyfriend,” Kate blurts.
Sam looks lost as he glances between the two of us. “I didn’t have any sisters growing up so someone’s going to have to explain what’s so funny about this.”
“Kate!” an older man yells from the small opening to the kitchen. “Order up!”
She rests her hand on mine. “Gotta go. I’ll catch up with you guys later. Don’t you dare leave without saying goodbye.”
With her gone, Sam steps in front of me, looking like we completely lost him somewhere along the way. “Who was that?”
“Kate. She’s a friend from college.”
He nods, doing that thing where his thumb brushes his lips again. Every time he does it, I want to kiss his hand away … I’m pretty sure he knows it, too. “So, tell me, how do you know so much about how her boyfriend looks in a towel?”
I bite down on my lower lip, remembering the handful of times I saw Beau come out of the bathroom in his favorite post-shower outfit. After the first time, I thought he’d get smarter about it and bring clothes in with him. He never got the hint, or he didn’t care.
“He was Cory’s and my roommate all of last year.” I’ve noticed that saying his name is getting easier over the last few months, but saying it to Sam feels weird. It’s like talking to a waiter about another restaurant you love across town.
“Hmm,” he says, wrapping his fingers around mine again. “We’re going to have to work on erasing that vision from your mind with something better.”
All I can do is shake my head. Boys are born with this competitive gene, which grows right along with them as they become men. Sometimes when it comes out as jealousy it’s annoying, but this is kind of cute. I like that he wants to be the only one I think about in that way.
“You can try,” I say, reaching up to kiss his cheek.
He groans, bringing our entwined hands up to his lips. “I’ll do more than try.”
Before I can respond, the waitress from before walks up with two menus in hand. “Follow me,” she instructs.
She leads us to a booth along the window and lays the menus on the table. I sit down on one side and instead of taking the booth across from me, Sam slides in next to me.
The waitress has a hard time hiding her amusement, but it’s probably not the first time she’s seen it. If fact, she smiles at us like we’re the cutest things she’s ever seen. “Can I get you two something to drink?”
“Can I get a chocolate milkshake and a glass of water?”
She nods, turning her attention to Sam. “And you?”
“I’ll have the same.”
“Okay, I’ll let you look over the menus while I grab those. Be right back.”
As I glance over the menu, I realize it’s everything a junk food junkie could ever dream of. Fried food. Frozen treats. Bacon is an option on just about everything. It’s going to be difficult to narrow this down to the amount of food I can actually eat.
“What are you going to get?” Sam asks, folding his menu back up.
“That’s the question of the century. I want a hamburger and french fries, but the onion rings and cheese curds sound good, too.”
A grin spreads across his face. “What if we each get a hamburger and then get a sampler platter to share. It has all that fried crap in it.”
“Okay, you twisted my arm.” I close my menu, signaling to the waitress that we’re ready. The longer I sit in this place, the hungrier I become. “So, where are we going after this?”
“You’re not ready to go back home?” He leans in close, his hand resting on top of my thigh.
I cover his hand with mine and rub my thumb along his knuckles. “Being on the bike is actually one of the most relaxing things I’ve ever done in my life.”
“I’m glad you feel the same way I do. I don’t think this thing between us would work if you didn’t,” he teases. “We’ll head back home, but we’re taking a different route this time. Might make a couple stops along the way.”
“Take your time. I don’t have anything to get home to.”
He leans in to kiss me just as the waitress arrives at our table with our drinks in hand. �
��Are you two ready to order?”
Sam takes the lead, ordering for both of us. My mouth waters just thinking about all the sinful treats that will soon be in front of me.
When he’s done, his attention is on me again. “I wonder what else we can get you to try since you took to the motorcycle so easily.”
“Don’t get too carried away. I have limits, you know.”
The space between his lips and my ear is a mere whisper. “Limits are made to be tested. That’s how we grow as individuals … by pushing ourselves to do things we wouldn’t normally do.”
Closing my eyes, I feel him even though he’s not actually touching me, not right now anyway. I don’t answer, not because I don’t want to, but because I’m mentally checking off all the limits I set for myself. Some of them are less daunting than others, but they’re all on that list for a reason.
“Name three things that scare you. I want to know so I can help you through them, because nothing should stand in your way. You’re too good for that.”
“This is too deep of a conversation to be having in a little diner, don’t you think?” I ask.
My eyes follow his as he glances around the room. This place is packed with people, but they’re all deep in their own conversations. Not one person is paying any attention to what we’re doing. “Looks safe to me,” he says, focusing back on me.
I exhale, seeing no way to escape this. He literally has me trapped on this old red leather seat. “I’m afraid of being alone. It’s actually the worst thing to be.”
“Why do you say that?”
I think back to the last several months. To my time in the hospital when I couldn’t wake up. To the hours I spent in my bedroom with too much time to think about everything that went wrong in my life. To all the nights I’ve spent talking to Cory but not hearing anything back from him. These are moments that created so much sadness within me, my heart so weighted that I’m lucky I didn’t completely drown from it all.