Cherry Red Summer (Emely and Elyas Book 1)

by Bartsch, Carina

  I cleared my throat, straightened my clothes, and turned my shoulder to her. But I could still feel her stare on my back.

  Andy rushed to change the topic back to the drive home. He and Elyas debated the route a while longer. We brought all our stuff to the car, and everything got loaded as fast as it had been unloaded the day before. Everyone said they were sure they hadn’t forgotten anything, but the trunk was only half full. Evidently, the provisions had taken up a large portion of the room.

  I helped Andy and Sophie stuff the last few things into the Jeep. I stood at the passenger door, looking back one last time over the meadow. I wanted to remember the trip for a long time, and I hoped this wasn’t the last time I would see this meadow.

  Jan and Yvonne intruded on my view as they slid into the backseat. Alex and Sebastian put on their helmets, preparing to get on his bike. Behind them, Domenic knelt in front of his bike, fumbling around with something, getting it ready to go.

  The last bike, the enduro, stood a couple of meters away, with Jessica and Elyas next to it. They were talking, and my stomach tightened slightly.

  Why hadn’t he asked me to ride with him? I’d have said no . . . but he hadn’t even asked.

  They raised their heads and looked my way, and I quickly looked back to the car.

  After last night I didn’t want to ride with Domenic anymore, so my only option was the Jeep. Not the worst choice, as I found.

  “Oh, Emely, before I forget,” Sophie said. “What are you doing for Halloween?”

  “Why do you ask?”

  “We’re having a big party at my place, and I’d love it if you could come.”

  Over the course of our little camping excursion, I had noticed her acting more warmly toward me, but the invitation still came as a surprise.

  “I’m not sure,” I said. “I might have to work that night.”

  The corners of her mouth pulled down. “That would be too bad. Is there any way you can switch with someone?”

  “I’ll try that, but not many people I work with would jump at the chance to pick up a shift on Halloween.”

  “You’ll find a way,” Andy said. “If your responses to Elyas are any indication, I’m confident in your creativity.” He grinned.

  “That’s so true. You should win an Oscar or something,” Sophie added. “It’s high time someone took that boy’s big head down a notch.”

  “Or up one,” Andy added, to which his girlfriend nodded pensively.

  What did that mean?

  “I’d prefer twisting his big head off,” I mumbled drily.

  “See, that’s exactly the sense of humor I was talking about,” Andy said, laughing as he shoved the final tent into the trunk. Sophie took a step closer to me.

  “I totally understand,” she said. “But try not to be too hard on Elyas. He can be a little dim sometimes. He’s a guy. What do we expect?” She looked briefly at her own, then back at me. “I’ve known Elyas for a couple of years,” she continued. “It takes a long time before he’ll let anyone see through his facade. But when he does, you’ll find a really nice guy behind all the goofiness.”

  I raised my eyebrows. “Are we talking about the same Elyas?” I asked.

  “Yeah, I think so,” she said, laughing. “You’ll see, one day.” Sophie looked over at Jessica, who was looking at me.

  “Emely?” Jessica asked.

  That was the first time she had called me by name. “Yes?”

  “For the love of God, Andy, what are you doing that for?” Sophie said as she stepped over to her future husband.

  Jessica came up to me. “Would you mind if I rode in the Jeep?”

  Her question irritated me before I realized I was taking the last free seat in the Jeep.

  “Um . . . ,” I mumbled.

  “It’s just that . . .” She looked down at her hands. “I’m sure you heard all about the Domenic thing . . . He’s the last person I want to sit behind on a motorcycle.”

  I nodded.

  “And Elyas . . . Well, you know,” she said. “He drives like a bat out of hell . . . I felt carsick for hours after the drive out here. So I was hoping to ride home in the Jeep. I was wondering if maybe you wouldn’t mind switching with me. Would that be OK?” I looked over at Elyas, who stood in front of his bike with his back to us.

  Well played, Mr. Schwarz! Very well played.

  The whole thing stank of a setup that anyone could smell ten miles away, upwind. I was about to tell Jessica that Elyas needed to come up with a better story than that, when Andy blurted, “Sure, Jess. Get in. Elyas mentioned Emely likes driving fast.”

  I stared at him, mouth agape.

  “Thanks, Emely. That’s really nice of you. I owe you!” Jessica said and walked to the car. I closed my mouth, and my face turned somber. Andy leaned close to me.

  “Do it for him,” he said. “He tries so hard. Would it be so bad if you met him halfway?”

  My lips moved, but no sound came out. I crossed my arms indignantly.

  But I didn’t chew anyone out as the Jeep and the first two bikes slowly got underway. Elyas still had his back to me and hadn’t turned around.

  Just you wait, I thought, finally walking over to him.

  My shoes were damp in the wet grass and made an unpleasant squeak with each step, but Elyas continued looking the other way. He didn’t even turn when I was right behind him.

  I clasped my hands tightly in front of me. “Very nicely engineered, Mr. Schwarz.”

  “Hmm?” he said, turning to me.

  “Stop pretending! I’m not buying your innocent act for one second.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  I squinted at him.

  One corner of his mouth curled up into a half grin. “Emely, sweetie,” he said, “is there some way I can help you?”

  “Don’t push things too far, my friend,” I hissed, tapping my foot.

  “Hey, Emely,” he said. “If you’d like to ask whether I’ll take you on my bike, you don’t have to be shy. I’d obviously be happy to take you with me.”

  It was about sixty miles by foot. If I was lucky, I might be home before nightfall.

  “Elyas Schwarz, I hate you!”

  He grabbed his heart as though my words had hurt him severely.

  Why weren’t eyeball lasers capable of slicing your opponent in half, like in the movies?

  Elyas looked at me intently until his grin slowly disappeared. He inhaled audibly and pulled his hair. “Would it really be so bad to ride with me?”

  The only bad thing about it is that I would lose my last bit of common sense being so—

  I shrugged and looked at the ground.

  “All right, come on,” he said gently. “The longer you draw this out, the worse it’ll get.” He held the helmet out to me.

  I looked from the helmet to his face and back. “OK,” I mumbled, carefully taking hold of the helmet. “At least you don’t stink . . . unlike Domenic.”

  “Domenic stinks?” he asked, suppressing a laugh.

  I made a face and nodded.

  “What of, if I might ask?” He grabbed hold of the handlebars and swung up onto the seat.

  “Bark mulch.”

  “Bark mulch?” he repeated. “Fresh mulch like cut wood? Or old mulch like ammonia?”

  “Ammonia.”

  “Sour mulch is not a good smell at all,” he said with a nod. “Well, baby. Tangy and sweet is a step up, right?” He pulled on his helmet, and I did the same before I had a chance to blush. He offered me his hand. I took a deep breath, braced myself on his forearm, and heaved myself up behind him. And, dammit, there wasn’t much space! I scooted my butt back, squeezing into the last couple of inches. I had no idea how I was going to hold out the whole ride in this uncomfortable position. I only knew it was
going to take a lot of thigh muscle to do it.

  Then I realized there were no handles. Again!

  Wasn’t there a political lobby advocating for people who don’t want to hold onto the motorcycle driver when riding on the back? At that moment, I decided to found such an organization.

  Elyas started the engine, and its loudness made me flinch. I frantically looked for something to hold on to. I had to hold on to something; otherwise, I would fall off like a sack of potatoes.

  Elyas paused, waiting for me to figure out what I was doing. He probably thought I was being silly—or worse, he had known for ages I was head over heels in love with him. What else could he think after I acted this way?

  I dug with my fingertips into the sides of the seat. God, how old was I? Fourteen? That’s how I felt, at least.

  “Ready?” Elyas asked, and I nodded.

  I put my feet on the footrests and tried my best to avoid touching Elyas. The bike moved forward. I almost fell off, and threw my arms around his middle in a panic. He abruptly turned off the engine and stopped, leaving me to slide into his back.

  “Whoops!” Elyas said, as my heart pounded in my throat.

  “Sorry. I eased up on the clutch too quickly there.”

  I struggled to breathe, not quite believing the engine stall was as accidental as Elyas said.

  But I didn’t voice my suspicions. He started the engine again, leaving me no time to scoot back, and drove off without warning. I thought it was smarter to leave my hands around Elyas’s middle.

  Even on the trip out with Domenic, I thought riding a motorcycle was awesome.

  But that was the understatement of the century, now that I was on a bike with Elyas. This was pure insanity!

  Elyas took a different, much curvier route home than the day before. The curves were just about the only thing I had time to notice about the scenery. I was far too preoccupied with the feeling of his back on my stomach and his legs between my inner thighs. The faster he drove, the tighter I gripped his middle. Sometimes I got the impression it was the only reason he accelerated at all.

  I cuddled up to him knowing I didn’t need to justify my grasp. Exactly like this morning, before we got up. I admitted to myself that I wished the trip back would take five times longer than the trip out. I closed my eyes, breathed in my favorite scent, and felt like I was flying with Elyas.

  Whenever I blinked, I saw his eyes in the rearview mirror. And whenever our eyes met, he smiled at me—I could tell from the shape of his eyes through his helmet visor. When I stole another look, I felt his fingers stroking my hands. Just for a few seconds. Then he put his hand back on the handlebar, leaving only tingling on the spot he had touched.

  After half an hour, Elyas pulled onto a road between some fields. He stopped the bike and turned the engine off.

  “Is something wrong?” I asked.

  “No, everything’s great.” He got off with a smile, taking his warmth with him and leaving me alone on the bike. He held onto the handlebars, though, to keep me from tipping over.

  “Why have we stopped?”

  He shrugged. “I thought you might like to drive once.”

  Me, drive? This contraption? Um, no!

  I was quick to shake my head.

  “It’s easier than it looks,” he said.

  “That’s what someone who already knows how says,” I mumbled. “Plus, everyone will be worried about where we are.”

  “Oh, those guys are all over the hills and far away now,” he said. “Come on, scoot up.”

  “No, Elyas. Seriously, no.”

  “Just scoot forward. I’ll explain what you have to do, and then I’ll leave the choice of driving entirely up to you.”

  “I don’t know . . .” I looked at the bike under me, but Elyas’s encouraging smile, combined with my wish not to seem like a wimp in front of him, ultimately won out. I scooted forward, and my legs dangled in the air. “Oh God, I can’t even touch the ground!”

  Elyas sighed and swung on behind me. His stomach lightly touched my back, and I felt a shower of shivers down my spine.

  He took off his helmet. “You’re not supposed to stand; you drive,” he pointed out.

  “That’s incredibly helpful,” I replied, looking at the handlebars covered with switches and knobs. Could I fly this thing to the moon?

  “Now don’t get freaked out,” he said. “I’ll be sitting here behind you the whole time, and in case of an emergency I can put my feet down if necessary.”

  Elyas was sitting right behind me, and I wasn’t supposed to freak out? Pff!

  “No, seriously, we’d better change places again,” I blurted.

  “Emely,” he said. “Take a deep breath. It’s not that bad. Just look at the controls, and if you’re still not comfortable, we can switch places, all right?”

  I whined internally but nodded. He held out his hands, undid the strap under my chin, and pulled my helmet off. “Have you ever driven something with two wheels before?” he asked, resting his hands on his thighs.

  “You mean, apart from a bicycle?” I replied in a high voice.

  He grinned, slowly lowering his head to look over my shoulder at the controls. My pulse raced, and I could feel his cheek in my hair.

  “Good, then we’ll start step by step with an introductory class, OK?” He spoke calmly, making me feel like we had all the time in the world. I breathed in and nodded.

  “All right,” he started. “The gas is under your right hand, but you already know that.”

  I said yes, happy he was taking the introductory part seriously.

  “OK, so if you look at your left hand, can you see how it looks like a little handbrake?”

  “That’s the clutch, right?” I asked. At least, that’s what it seemed like from my two motorcycle rides so far.

  “You’re not as clueless as you act,” he said.

  “Yes, I am!” I said. I didn’t want him to think he could skip to more advanced instructions. I looked at the handlebars but couldn’t find what I was looking for. “Where is the gearshift?” I asked.

  “Under your left foot,” he answered, looking down with me. “Do you see this lever thing? That’s your gearshift. Put your foot on it once.”

  I frowned. “That’s how you shift?”

  “Yeah. It takes a little getting used to, but if you can drive a car with a stick, you’ll pick this up pretty fast.”

  “If?” I gulped.

  “You can only shift one gear up or down at a time. So it’s not like in a car, where you can shift from first to third. Right now it’s in neutral,” he continued. “If you press the foot lever down, you’ll be in first gear. If you move it up, it’ll go into second and third, and so on. But to start with, first gear is all we need.”

  I nodded. I had understood the theoretical portion of the class. The applied portion looked a lot harder.

  “Very nice,” he said, winking at me through the rearview mirror.

  “Now this is the brake,” he said, pointing to the pedal my foot was on. Having my foot on the brake was never a bad idea. “OK, that’s the most important stuff. Let’s turn the engine on now.”

  “What?” I began to sweat.

  “We’re just turning it on,” he said.

  I felt queasy, but listened to the beguiling voice behind me and started the engine.

  “Now add a little gas so you get a feel for it.”

  “Are you crazy?”

  “Don’t worry. It’s not in gear—nothing can happen.”

  Oh God. Elyas definitely had guts. I took a deep breath and turned my hand to put on the gas. The engine rumbled.

  “Not so gently,” he said. “Don’t be afraid; you can really turn it.”

  I sighed and did as I was told.

  “It’s got some power. Can you feel it?”
/>   I nodded, wide-eyed.

  “You don’t need to be afraid. You only need to put on that much gas when we get going in a second,” he said.

  “We should probably put another twenty hours of practice in before we even think about driving!”

  He smiled, still calm. “I have full confidence in you. You can do it.”

  “What if I break Andy’s bike?”

  “You won’t,” he said. “Have you forgotten already? I’ll be sitting right here behind you, paying attention.”

  How could I forget he was sitting right behind me? I was more worried I would forget I was sitting on a motorcycle.

  I could feel it in the suspension when Elyas bent to the side to pick up my helmet. He handed it to me and then grabbed his own and put it back on.

  “Now, squeeze the clutch,” he said. I put on my helmet, and did as he had explained.

  “OK, now put it into first gear. But do not release the clutch yet! Only when I tell you to, OK?”

  I nodded and trembled as I put my foot on the gearshift lever. “Down, right?”

  “Exactly,” he said. The sound of the engine changed. It was threatening.

  “Is it in?” I asked.

  “Yes,” he confirmed. “Very good! Now, keep squeezing the clutch.”

  “Elyas,” I started. “I know it would be smarter not to ask . . . but just for the sake of protocol: What would happen if I let go of the clutch?”

  He grinned. “Nothing bad,” he said. “Do you remember the little stall we had before we set out this morning?”

  I nodded. The stall that had resulted in his body pressing against mine; I wouldn’t forget that anytime soon.

  “The same thing would happen,” he said. I felt relieved, but then he continued. “It could get dicey, though, if you got fazed or scared and turned the gas. We might end up doing a wheelie or something, and we don’t want to do any wheelies, am I right?”

  No, we definitely don’t want to do any wheelies! My hand was getting tired of holding the clutch in. It was as though I were holding a grenade.

  “I didn’t mean to alarm you. Just keep the clutch in, and nothing can happen, all right?”