by Holly Hood
He hits the bar door storming out into the parking lot. And he’s pissed at me. He’s pissed at the garbage can next to the bar too because he launches that across the parking lot.
And there I stand, small and unnoticed while this guy loses it in front of me and the empty parking lot under the stars.
When he finally stands still, chest heaving, fist clenched, I say something to him. “I didn’t think you would want to go to jail over some asshole in the bar.”
This doesn’t make him feel any better. He charges me and I scream, backing up until my back is against the the building. And now I have no place to go.
He’s breathing hard and I’m breathing hard and I can’t do anything other than look at him and pray that he isn’t about to kill me.
He bites down on his lip and drops his head, his hands are still on both sides of me and I am still prisoner in his cocoon of rage.
“Nash.” My voice barely makes it out. “You’re really freaking me out right now.” I lift my head, hoping I’ve said enough so he will let me go.
He pushes off of the wall and runs his hand across his face. “I’m freaking you out right now?”
I’m not sure if it’s a question. So I just shrug.
And he just stands there. Staring at me, its strange to see someone go from complete rage to calm in just a few minutes. “You want to go for a ride?”
“Me?”
“Is there someone else out here with us I don’t know about?”
I push some hair behind my ear and pull it together. “Are you drunk?”
“I wouldn’t ask you to go for a ride if I was, dumbass.” He shoves his hands into his jean pockets and stares me down. “You know, since your boyfriend ditched you.”
I make a face. “He’s not my boyfriend and he didn’t ditch me.” Although I’m not fully sure that is the case. “A ride where?”
I can’t believe I am even contemplating such a thing after he almost killed the guy in the bar and almost me.
“Wherever you want to go.”
I swallow down the little voice in the back of my head that is telling me it’s not the right thing to do. I look back at the door one last time, silently giving Ryker a chance to come out and stop me. “Okay.”
He jerks his head and waits for me to catch up to him in the parking lot.
“I only have one helmet,” he tells me. “We’ll flip for it.”
I scoff and he grins. “Just joking, I don’t have any helmets.”
I cross my arms when we are standing in front of his bike.
“What about my skirt?”
He throws a leg over the bike. “What about it?”
“Everyone is going to see my ass.” That’s the least of my worries. I imagine my untimely death on the back of the bike. And how my parents will feel when they find out I was hanging out with Nash.
He shrugs. “At least it’s a nice one.”
Was that a compliment? I think he just complimented me.
“I’ve never been on a bike before,” I look around for somewhere to put my foot. Maybe a saddle to keep from falling to my death, I’m not so sure how these things work. In fact, the thought of them kind of scares me.
He extends his hand. “Come on. It’s not hard.”
I timidly take his hand, he’s gentler than I imagined he would be and he holds on until I’m on.
“You’re going to want to hold on,” he starts the bike and looks back when I don’t kick into action. “To me. Unless of course you feel like eating the asphalt.”
I take a deep breath and wrap my arms around him like we are strangers. My arms are pathetic noodles trying their best to not touch him because we know nothing about one another.
“You might want to hug me like you love me,” he shouts, zipping out of the parking lot before I even know what is happening. I hold on to him like he is the only thing keeping my skin from being ripped to shreds if I fall off.
I close my eyes and press my cheek into his back fighting against the wind so it doesn’t go up my nose. I don’t want to see what is happening because I am afraid I might pee on his precious bike.
We zip through the streets and through life like two powerful beings. Faster than I’m used to but its soothing.
It ends before I want it to. And I open my eyes and come back to reality. And realize I can stop touching him.
“Is this your house?” Did he just take me to his house?
“This used to be my house,” he helps me off the bike and gets off himself. “When I was a kid.”
I take in the simple white house with blue shutters. A trip down memory lane is on the agenda tonight. “What made you come here?”
He doesn’t answer me. I don’t know, maybe is thinking about what to say. Maybe he doesn’t want to tell me the truth because he doesn’t like the truth. And then he speaks. “It’s been awhile since I looked at the place.”
“Is that a good thing or a bad thing?”
“You ask a lot of questions for someone who doesn’t want to open up about themselves,” he points out. He opens the fence and walks up the sidewalk.
I cross my arms and reluctantly follow him. He sits down. So I sit down. “I never said I didn’t want to open up.”
“Okay. A question for a question.” He raises an eyebrow at me. “If I answer, you have to answer.”
“Why do you want to know anything about me anyways?” My heart speeds up.
“Because you’re freaking weird,” he says. “I’ve ran into you a few times now and I still don’t know what your deal is.”
“And you’re a dick.”
“I have a dick.” He keeps right on talking when I roll my eyes. “Why were you touching my bike that night outside of the bar?”
Fear increases.
“I don’t know. It just caught my eye.” I hope he believes me.
He runs a hand down his neck. “Try again.”
“Try what again?”
“The truth.”
“I was thinking about hot wiring it and taking off to the nearest scrap yard for the extra cash.” I stand up, going up on the porch to evade his prying.
He rest his arms against his legs and just sits there quiet. He doesn’t argue with me. Maybe he believes that I am a bike thief. Or maybe he is dealing with something of his own and this is his human way of trying to open up to someone.
“I was snooping.” That’s not a lie. I sit back down next to him. “Because I wanted to know more about the 8th sin.”
He studies me carefully. “Why would a girl like you want anything to do with the 8th sin?”
I shrug. “I guess I was hoping to learn something.”
He nods his head in acceptance of my answer.
“Why were you at the bar alone tonight?” Now it’s my turn to question him.
“I needed to get out of the house.”
“Why?”
“Because one person can only take so much stress before they do something stupid,” he laughs, and not because he is amused but more like he is blown away at the amount of bullshit in his life.
“You wanted to kill that guy back there.” It’s not a question but maybe if I point this out he will see he has an anger problem.
“That guy back there called you a bitch. You should be thanking me.”
My phone rings breaking me from the moment. I pull it from my bra and look at the screen. It’s Ryker. I hit ignore. “I’m pretty good at defending myself.”
Ryker calls again. “Aren’t you going to answer it? I bet your boyfriend is trashed and ready to score.”
“He’s not my boyfriend.” I sigh. “Can you ever not be rude? Every time I think I am starting to find you tolerable you insult me all over again.”
He stands up. “Let’s get you back to the bar before he calls the cops and sends out a search team.”
I follow him back down the steps. “Maybe we should exchange numbers.”
He throws a leg over his bike and gives me a weird look. “Now why w
ould we do that?”
“Maybe I could ask you some more questions.” I say, giving a pitiful attempt at maintaining an open line of communication. I’m getting somewhere.
“If this is your attempt at trying to flirt with me you suck at it,” he says. He holds out his hand and helps me on the bike. I take it and this time he holds on a little tighter and I feel a little happy that he’s opening up to me.
“Hug me like you love me,” he says again, just like the first time. And we zip away from his childhood home into the night.
Eleven
Pulling back into the sports bar on the back of Nash’s bike makes me feel a bit dangerous—a little bit famous and a hell of a lot on edge. Especially when Ryker is standing outside the bar with two of his friends.
He’s not at all happy to see me with Nash. And the two of them don’t even know each other.
“Nice of you to show back up.” These are the first words out of Ryker’s mouth when Nash helps me off the back of his bike. “You know, I called you about ten times.”
I smooth my hair down and make sure my skirt is where it should be and look at Ryker. And usually if I am put in the situation where I have to defend myself I just shut down. But the way Ryker is staring me down makes me angry.
“I got knocked off of the bar and couldn’t find you,” I tell him. Because I am hoping that he will pull back on the aggressive asshole behaviour he has going on.
“I was in the bar at the vip,” he tells me, like it’s something I should have already assumed. “What are you doing riding around on a bike in the middle of the night, Sav?” He is now staring Nash down. And Nash is behind me so I have no idea what kind of expression he has on his face. But I am willing to bet it’s not a smile.
Obviously Ryker doesn’t care about my feelings otherwise he wouldn’t be standing there berating me like I am some little girl who needs guidance. “Why does it matter? Why didn’t you come find me if you were so worried about where I was in the bar?”
He gives me that shitty grin he gives when he is frustrated with me and shakes his head, looking at his friends who just stand there taking in the show. I don’t know what Nash is doing because I still haven’t looked at him.
“Obviously I did, I called you like twenty times.” He looks past me to Nash. “She came here with me. So if you have any ideas about taking her home, it’s not going to happen.”
Now I am looking at Nash because I feel completely humiliated. I want to shout at Ryker that my vagina and or other parts of my body are none of his business and that if I want to share them with anyone I am free to do so. Instead, I just stifle the urge to punch him right in his smug face.
But Nash doesn’t hold back his feelings. “She told me she didn’t have a boyfriend.” He lifts his chin, narrowing his gaze on Ryker.
Everyone looks at me. And I cross my arms. “That’s because I don’t. But I do have a friend, that acts more like an asshole most days.” I roll my eyes in Ryker’s direction and he snags me by the arm and pulls me away from Nash and the two of his friends standing there.
“Don’t think I didn’t notice the emblem on that bike you rode in on.” His fingers are digging into my skin to the point of pain. “Why can’t you just let things go?”
Nash doesn’t take his eyes off of me. And I appreciate it. I force a small smile to prove that I am okay. “Because I don’t want to let things go, so deal with it. Just like Jackson deals with it.”
He lets go of my arm and shakes his head. He’s a bit wasted, and I know this is the reason he is being even more of an ass than usual. The ride with Nash has sobered me up and I feel fine—so I think. I’m not really great at judging when it comes to alcohol consumption.
“Let’s go,” Ryker tells me. “I’m ready to get out of here. And my friend said he would drive us back to my hotel.” He starts walking, like I am just going to follow him back to his place.
I’m not going back to Ryker’s hotel to sleep with him. And after the way he just talked to me I don’t want anything to do with his penis, mouth or hands. I want to kick and punch all three of them.
Nash raises an eyebrow. “I think your ride is leaving.”
I shrug. “I’ll call a cab.”
“Savy!”
I stalk toward Ryker and push him. “Quit ordering me around. If I wanted to come with you I would. I’m staying here.”
“And how are you getting home?” He shakes his head, finding my resistance ridiculous.
Nash steps up. “I can drop her off.”
This is not what I expected to hear but I’m sort of glad he has my back.
“That’s just beautiful.” Ryker drops his head. “Savy, just get in the car.”
“I don’t want to get in the car,” I tell him.
Nash steps forward. “She doesn’t want to get in your car. You’re really starting to sound like some perv. Let the girl be. I’ll make sure she makes it where she needs to be.”
Ryker’s buddy chuckles. Nash perks up. “Something funny?”
He shuts off the laughter as soon as Nash is staring him down. But he doesn’t shut his mouth, instead he says. “Look at Nash trying to play the saint role. That’s funny.”
Ryker stops Nash before he takes his friends head off. “Let’s take it easy. We don’t need any trouble. I’m only looking out for Savy.”
Nash backs off. He looks at me, his eyes immediately softening. And there blue. I hadn’t even noticed in all the times I looked at him. But now that I am not angry with him I am staring into blue eyes. “Savy, what do you want to do?”
And he said my name. It sounds different coming from him. He touches his face, fingers trailing across the scruff on his chin. He seems almost tired. Or maybe bothered, I’m not sure which.
“I want to stay here.” I tell them all. Ryker forces himself to kiss me on the cheek and wishes me the best. In hopes that he isn’t making a mistake leaving me alone with Nash. And he leaves.
Once he’s out of the parking lot and gone, Nash looks over at me. “Seems like someone didn’t get the memo.”
“What memo?” I walk besides him back to his bike.
“The one where you put him in the friend zone.”
I laugh at his absurdity. “I didn’t put Ryker anywhere. And do you know who he is?” Never once did Nash act like he knew Ryker was a famous skateboarder. Maybe he doesn’t watch sports either.
“Ryker Sosa. Big shit skateboarder. Please don’t tell me you’re a groupie.” He cracks a small hint of a smile and stares at his bike.
“I’ve known Ryker since I was in high school. Before he was a big shit skateboarder as you like to call it.”
“How romantic. Are you going to get on the bike or just stand here and talk about your boy drama?”
“Are you going to stop being an ass?”
“You’re the one who fought to stay back here with me. I think you like it,” he says.
Maybe a small part of me does like the way he talks to me. But I’m not going to tell him that. “Ryker and I are friends. He isn’t looking for a girlfriend he’s too busy.”
He nods, but it’s obvious he doesn’t believe me. “So busy he’s hanging out with you tonight and nearly throwing you in his car to go back to his hotel with you.”
I nod, walking around to the other side of his bike. I look at him. “Yet, here I am with you.”
Why did I just say that?
I regret saying that because now he is staring me down.
“If you’re thinking I am going to kiss you think again.” He throws his leg over his bike ending the fantasy that I didn’t even know existed in my head.
“Aren’t you going to help me on?” There is no hand this time. Just him ready to go.
“Nope.”
I shake my head, mouth hanging like some idiot. Was he about to ditch me? “Are you going to leave me here?”
He shakes his head. “Nope.”
“Then what are you doing?”
“I don’t know.�
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I’m confused. I shake my head, not sure if I should climb on his bike or walk back inside the bar and leave him alone. He gets back off the bike and walks right up to me.
He’s being aggressive again. And I realize when he stands in front of me that it would only take him bending down and me raising up on my tiptoes for our lips to connect.
And now I am thinking about him kissing me. Something I shouldn’t be thinking about because of who he is. But I haven’t thought about who he is since the ride on his bike. Now he is just this incredibly tall, handsome guy, staring me down for no apparent reason.
I bite down on my lip, hating the pangs of lust going off in my body.
Kiss me. Put me out of my misery!
He has a crooked smile. And I love crooked smiles. I’ve always thought they made men that much more attractive. I shake my head, this thing going on is exactly what it shouldn’t be.
I’m attracted to him. “What are you doing?”
“I’m looking at you.” And he moves in even closer.
“Why?” I force myself to breathe, which is hard because my entire body is now filled with adrenaline and fear at the thought of what could happen.
He stares at me long enough to increase the adrenaline a little more before he says anything. “Because you’re really beautiful.”
I’m pretty sure my heart just exploded in my chest.
“Uh…thank you.” I press my lips together because I don’t know what else to do at the moment. “I thought you said you weren’t going to kiss me?” I’m such an idiot.
He moves closer, brushing my hair away from my face. I swallow at the feel of his fingers against my cheek. I saw none of this coming. But I want everything that is coming to me.
“Who said I was going to kiss you?” His voice, it makes every other voice sound pathetic when he’s looking at me this way.
But he’s moving closer not farther away and if you don’t want to kiss someone you don’t do this. His hands find my waist and I feel every fingertip pressing into my flesh.
I can feel his breath.
I can smell him. He smells like he just showered, sort of soapy and fresh, with a hint of cologne that now might be my favourite smell.
He pulls me closer and I look up at him even though I know I shouldn’t.