But then something occurred to me. What if he didn’t want his friends to see me? What if he had a girlfriend?
Nope. Don’t do it. He came to me. He found me. He brought me out. I wasn’t going to look for excuses to end the night.
In no time at all, the door opened, but this time it was my door.
“Let’s go,” he said, taking my hand.
“Where?” I climbed out, following him.
“To see black.”
See black? I loved his imagination.
Confused but intrigued, I remained quiet as I followed him down the street, hearing the sizzling sound of a neon sign with the smell of pizza damn near making me moan with hunger. Sticks. We were across from the park in the town square right in front of a local hangout. A bar that admitted minors, because it had bands and pool tables, so really, people of all ages could be found there. Is that where he ran to a moment ago?
He held something up to me, and I took it, turning it around in my hands and finally realizing it was a helmet.
A helmet?
I heard something move, a key being inserted, and I hesitated a moment, because I was in sleep shorts, and if we fell, I’d have no clothing protecting my legs, my most prized possessions on which I trusted my future in dance.
I groaned to myself. As long as he didn’t expect me to drive, I guess…
Fastening the strap of the half helmet under my chin, I held onto his arm as he helped me climb on behind him. It was a little chilly, and the wind might be too brisk. I brushed the back of his head with my hand, feeling that he wasn’t wearing a helmet at all.
“Whose bike is this?” I asked.
“A friend.”
I put my hands on his waist, but his body shot up and then came down hard, sparking the motor to life, and I didn’t need him to tell me what to do. I wrapped my arms around him, and put my head down behind his back, but I was nervous as hell. I’d never ridden on a motorcycle before.
“Don’t let go,” he ordered me.
Yeah, like, duh.
I tucked my feet up on the footrests and squeezed him tight as we shot off, kicking up gears and picking up pace.
I whimpered, but I didn’t think he heard it.
This was faster than the car. Or maybe it was because I could feel the wind.
He veered left, turning around the square, and the bike leaned so far, I thought we’d tip over.
“Can you slow down a little bit?” I yelled. “Please?”
But once we rounded the corner, he sped off, shooting to warp speed, and I yelped, locking my arms around his body and squeezing him between my thighs.
“I don’t feel…” I laughed for good measure, “Like really secure. Slow down!”
But he didn’t. He veered right, then left, then right again, the weight of our bodies feeling like too much as we tipped from side to side.
There was a dip, my stomach vaulted up and down, and we shot up a steep hill, and I gasped, holding him tighter.
We raced over the top of the hill, leaving the ground and picking up air as we flew over the hump and to the ground again. My heart leapt into my throat, and I felt like I was on a ride I couldn’t control and didn’t have time to think, and even if I could, I couldn’t stop what
was happening. My body rushed with heat and energy, terror swelled in my throat, and I couldn’t figure out if I wanted to laugh, puke, or scream.
He sped around a bend, we leaned, and I could almost feel the ground an inch under my leg. I couldn’t stop myself. “I’m gonna fall!” I cried out. “Stop, please!”