Wright Rival (Wright)

“You okay, babe?”

Her limbs went to jelly. She jumped off and passed me the helmet. Her face was flushed and she had a wide smile.

“I thought it was…great,” she admitted.

“Yeah?”

She bit her lip and ran her hands down her dress. “Mildly terrifying but exhilarating.”

“You’d do it again?”

“Yes. Can we do it again?”

Her eagerness made me want to take her right then and there over my bike.

“After dinner.”

She stuck out her bottom lip, and it took everything in me not to drag my teeth along it and suck it into my mouth. Ever since that kiss after Easter lunch, I’d wanted nothing more than to be physical with her. But if I was doing this right, then I was doing this right. We’d proven that sex was no issue. We were fucking excellent at that part. I’d never been great at more. So, here we were.

“Come on,” I said with a laugh and dropped an arm over her shoulders.

“Where are we anyway?”

I pointed at the sign for Hill Barbecue. They were a local barbeque joint that had started as a downtown food truck. I’d loved their food and been happy for them when they opened their own restaurant. It meant business was good.

“Oh, Dad loved their food truck. He was sad when they closed. I had no idea they’d opened a restaurant.”

“It’s recent.”

“My dad is going to be so happy. This is right down the street. I have a feeling we’ll be eating here a lot for lunch.”

I grinned. Good. Now, every time she showed up here, she’d think about our date.

We bypassed the large fence with Hill Barbecue scrawled in white paint on the side. The venue was entirely outdoors with picnic tables spread out around the area and their food truck relocated to a permanent locale. I’d checked the weather a dozen times before deciding on it. In a Lubbock spring, it was as likely to rain as for a dust storm to crop up, and we wouldn’t have wanted to be caught outside with nothing but my motorcycle in either.

We crossed to the food truck and put in our orders. I got the brisket, and Piper went for ribs. I was impressed. They were the messiest thing on the menu. Not something I’d think most girls—any girl—would go for. She winked at me when I mentioned it and brought her Coke over to a picnic table.

I settled in across from her with my Topo Chico. “Bold choice, Medina.”

“You’ve been inside of me. I don’t think you’re going to care if I have barbeque sauce on my face.”

I nearly choked on my drink. “Point made.”

“Tell me about those,” she said, pointing to my sleeve. “What do they mean?”

“Ah, well, some have meaning, and some I think are cool as shit.” I pushed up the sleeve of my shirt so that she could see the swirling shape of the dragon scales that traveled through the clouds and up into wings. Interspersed within the elaborate pattern were images for all of my family.

“This one is for Campbell.” I showed her the music notes that scrawled up a row of clouds. “It’s the chords for ‘I See the Real You.’ And this one is Nora.” A rose in full bloom with deep, piercing thorns. “My dad. I got this one first and built the sleeve around it.” It was an old-fashioned clock, almost steampunk, with the time set to the time I’d been born. I pointed out the cigarette smoke for Vail and the ribbon that twined with it to represent Lori. The cancer bow hidden in the clouds on my elbow was for Helene.

“And your mom?” she prompted, marveling at the stories I’d hidden inside the sleeve.

I froze at the words. I should have known they were coming. I rarely talked about her.

Her eyes swept up to mine at my silence. She must have read my unease. “You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want.”

I pulled my shirtsleeve back down and flipped my wrist over. A dove in flight was inked into my skin. “This is for her.”

She traced her fingers over it. “It’s beautiful.”

“One of my last pieces. I don’t talk much about her.”

“How old were you when she died?”

“Twenty-two. Campbell was about to turn eighteen and Nora had just had her fifteenth birthday.”

“I’m sorry. That’s terrible.”

I glanced down at the dove. It said so little about the person my mother actually was. “We had a…conflicted relationship.”

“How so?”

“Well, Campbell and mom were really close. He was her favorite, even if she never explicitly said that. Dad and I always got along better. When I was around twelve, I guess, something happened. I’m still not sure what, but after that, my parents argued non-stop. I tried to shield the others from the constant bickering, but it never worked.”

Piper listened but didn’t make a face or anything. She waited patiently as I told the story.