Snow White & The Biker

D- Going for a ride.

My bike would look a lot better with you on the back of it.

Instead of a text back, I dial him. I want to hear his voice.

“Lo,” his gritty voice picks up on the third ring. A shiver slithers through me and my stomach drops like when you are on a roller coaster.

“Pick me up outside of Imperial Apartments in thirty.” I don’t wait for him to respond. I end the call before I lose my nerve and back out. Then I shut my phone off and toss it on the coffee table. I’ll grab it on my way out.

Rushing to my bathroom, I wash my face and brush my teeth. I glance down at my shorts and dash to my bedroom closet to grab a pair of jeans and a cute top.

With five minutes to spare I jog out to the front of the building and wait. The loud roar of a motorcycle coming down the street sends goosebumps up and down my arms. I’m not nervous. I’m excited to see Diego again—to kiss him again. He rolls to a stop on the street in front of me. God, he looks good. Dangerous and so sexy. Dressed in dark jeans, a white tee, and leather jacket, he’s such a bad boy with his tattoos and piercings. He shrugs his jacket off and hands it to me without a word.

I accept the well-worn leather, and inhale his scent, getting on the bike behind him as I did the other night.

I’m being impulsive but it feels good. The bike veers onto the highway and my hair whips around my face violently. I must be crazy. This guy could be a serial killer for all I know, only I am tired of always playing it safe. When I first went away to college the media loved to follow my every move because Consuela never wanted me in the public eye. I guess they were fascinated by me because of my parents and my father’s wealth. There was a blog dedicated to my outfit choices. The whole thing was ridiculous. Eventually when I proved that I was boring and never did anything newsworthy they left me alone and my stepmother loosened her leash.

He drives to the outskirts of town and pulls off at a bar.

“You hungry?”

“Um…sure.” I haven’t had dinner. I observe the rustic exterior and motorcycles filling the parking lot. This is definitely a biker bar. A neon beer sign hangs in the window.

I follow him off the motorcycle. He turns into me. “I’m glad you called me.”

“Me too.”

His breath washes over me smelling of mint, and I have the urge to kiss him. I lean into him and he gets the hint. Wrapping one of his hands around the back of my head he holds me where he wants me, his chin titling down, mouth moving to claim mine. This kiss is different. I’m ready for it and though it’s still as intense, this kiss is sweeter than the last time.

Sliding his tongue between the part of my lips he groans. I return the movement, sweeping my tongue into his mouth tasting that mint flavor I smelled on his breath.

A motorcycle fires up and I jump.

Diego chuckles and pulls away but not before taking my hand and knitting his fingers with mine.

I follow him inside the dark bar. Loud classic rock blares through the speakers. Peanut shells crunch under my shoes as we travel deeper inside. The bar is crowded with men in leather and denim. Women wearing lowcut blouses and tanks paired with tight jeans and miniskirts and cut -off shorts. A few of them are gawking at Diego with hungry eyes but when they see me, they give me an evil eye.

The place is bigger than it appeared from the outside.

We make our way to the tables and booths. Diego stops at a booth occupied by a rough looking guy with tattoos on his face and a redhead curled into his side.

Diego exchanges fist bumps with him and slides into the empty side, pulling me down with him into the tan leather seat.

“Guys, this is Sybil. Sybil, meet Jericho and his Old Lady Winnie.”

“Nice to meet you.”

“Likewise, sugar.” The redhead, Winnie grins at me. I can feel both of them studying me.

“Whactu’ want to drink, baby?” The word baby melts over me like butter he says it so smooth.

“A beer.”

Diego winks at me then twists around to face the bar. “Two beers, Jay,” he shouts at the man behind the counter cupping a hand around his mouth.

Seconds later an older woman with heavy eye makeup and bright pink lipstick slides two open bottles of beer on the table in front of us.

“We’ll take two burgers and fries, Pam,” he tells her, and she nods moving off toward the back.