Biker's Virgin

“Okay, bro, grab that side,” he said to Emerson, who now seemed a lot more reserved and quiet compared to his loudmouthed friend.

“I got it, man,” Emerson said as he gripped the edges of the sofa.

“Okay, hit it!” instructed Chris, and the two of them grunted and maneuvered the heavy sofa from the back of the truck.

While Chris was clearly vying for our attention, I found it easy to ignore his brash arrogance. It wasn’t so easy, however, to ignore Emerson. While Chris' physique bordered on the ridiculous—there was no way he wasn’t on steroids—Emerson's was more natural, less extreme, but powerful nonetheless. I found my gaze lingering far too long on the rippling muscles of Emerson’s arms as he carried the heavy sofa across the lawn. I had to admit, the way the afternoon sunlight caught the stubble on his jaw as he turned toward me took my breath away just for an instant.

Several grunts later (and more ludicrous comments from Chris), the two of them disappeared into our apartment with the sofa and emerged a few minutes later, each covered in a sheen of sweat that enhanced their well-developed physiques. Emerson hung back, dabbing at his sweat with a handkerchief he'd retrieved from his pocket. I smiled. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d seen a younger guy carrying a handkerchief. Chris, on the other hand, walked immediately back over to us, smiling suggestively all the while.

“Any other heavy lifting I could help you two with? Now or…later perhaps?”

Leslie laughed and folded her arms across her chest. “Thanks, Chris, but that was the only thing we needed help with. We're super grateful for your assistance, but I think we’re good.”

“You sure? I mean, that sofa was nothing really. Nothing compared to what I'm about to go smash in the gym. Seriously, if you need us to help out with anything else, we're down.”

“Thanks, guys. We’ve got it from here,” Leslie reassured him.

Emerson took a few steps closer to us and looked up into the back of the truck. His eyes met mine, and I turned away quickly.

“Are you sure you guys don't need any more help?” he asked, directing the question at me.

“We're totally fine now, thanks,” interjected Leslie.

“Yeah. We’re good. Thanks,” I said, still avoiding eye contact.

Chris shrugged. “Alright then, ladies. So, uh, what time is the housewarming? I'll bring Jell-O shots and vodka. Say nine, nine thirty?”

“There isn't gonna be a housewarming,” I said, aware of how cold my tone had suddenly become. “We have a lot of unpacking to do, and since we have class Monday morning, this has to get done. We're both swamped this semester, and I seriously don't think we're gonna have time for parties.”

Chris stared at me for a moment and then he shook his head. “Whatevs. You only live once, yo. Life's too short to waste sitting behind a desk staring at books all day. And yeah, speaking of short, we're gonna be late for gym, bro! Jason already messaged me like ten minutes ago saying he was waiti

ng for us.”

“Alright,” Emerson replied. “Let's go. See you around, uh…”

“I'm Leslie, and this is Brooke,” Leslie announced.

“Leslie and Brooke,” Emerson said as if he was completing his sentence. “It’s really nice to meet you both. I guess we’ll see you around sometime, and welcome to the neighborhood.”

With that, he climbed onto his bike, while Chris climbed into a sleek, black sports car. No real shocker there. Emerson started his bike up and revved the engine before spinning the back wheel as he took off. Chris winked at us as he pulled out of his parking space. Leslie laughed, and I couldn’t help but chuckle. When they were gone, Leslie grabbed a box from the tailgate of the truck and grinned up at me with a look I knew all too well.

“Come on, BeeBee,” she said. “You have to admit you saw it. Emerson couldn’t keep his eyes off of you. He’s totally got a thing for you.”

“I have to admit nothing,” I fired back, trying to sound less defensive than I felt for some reason. I didn't want to think about that guy, or any guy for that matter—not with thoughts of Andrew still swirling around my head. It had been months; I knew I should be getting over it, but for some reason, what he had done still haunted me.

“Can we please just forget about it, Les? I'm not in the mood. Let's just get the rest of this stuff into the apartment. I've gotta get the truck back to Bryan soon.”

“Okay,” she said with a sigh. “But seriously, you’re going to have to lighten up sometime.”

Yeah, I thought to myself.

I am.

But not today.

Chapter Two

Emerson