“I’m sure you’ll continue to manage,” is all I can say. The air feels like it’s not returning to my lungs quick enough.
He kisses me again and moves his arm from my shoulders, holding my hand until we reach the restaurant. He kisses the back of my hand, and gets out of the cab.
We walk side by side into the restaurant where Nikki and Dave are deep in conversation until they see us. They smile and wave us over.
The restaurant is a cute pizza place. We sit in a corner area, away from most tables which offers a bit of privacy and quiet. We sit down opposite Dave and Nikki, greetings and grins all around.
“How was your afternoon?” Dave directs to me, assuming I had jumped on the laptop to get some work done.
Fobbing him off, I say, “No work talk. Let’s enjoy dinner.” That’s something that’s never come out of my mouth before, so Dave’s confused look is warranted.
“Anyone keen to try these totally awesome sounding drinks with me?” Nikki queries, shoving the cocktail menu into Javi’s face, pointing out the cocktail she wants to try.
“Yeah, I’m keen. That sounds delicious!” he replies, pointing to the menu.
Nikki orders four of the fancy, restaurant concocted cocktails that sound dangerous with around five shots of alcohol—with the caveat that it’s a celebration for having Javi join us and doing so well in the season so far. Everyone still has another four days before they need to be back on track.
We order food, and a short while later, four blue drinks come our way in what can only be described as fishbowls.
We all look at them wide eyed and burst out laughing. We cheers to the successful season, to working together on the motocross project, and many weekends on the top step. We sip the drinks, and they are definitely dangerous. How ever many shots are actually in here are well disguised under the sugary, berry mixer.
I make a mental note to pace myself.
We have a wonderful evening of conversation, laughter, and Nikki and Dave getting to know Javi more.
I sit back and listen to Nikki ask Javi, “How did you get into the sport?”
“I grew up on a massive property and Dad used to restore bikes, so bikes were always around. Parents saw I had some talent and encouraged me to go into the Local, and then to Nationals comps. I enjoyed winning, so I wanted to keep it going up to this level,” Javi replies.
“Awesome that your parents were so supportive,” Nikki engages.
“Yeah, they still are. They normally come to my races, but they decided to take a long cruise, so they have missed this season. Which is weird not to have them around,” he replies, and I can see some sadness sweep across his face. “There is always winning the championship next year, too, right?” he recovers.
Nikki is enthralled. “Exactly!” She pauses and holds a puzzled look on her face. “Sophia, wasn’t your start similar?”
I nod my head. “Yeah, I didn’t win championships, but I did come close,” I reply.
“I didn’t realise you were in the Nationals,” Javi says, looking towards me while he takes a sip of his blue fishbowl. He’s making it very hard to take him seriously, so I simply nod in reply.
He looks away, seemingly pensive at something.
“Nikki,” he directs his next question to her, “you never wanted to get on a bike when you were young?”
Nikki laughs. “No, nothing like the three of you. I was just happy going to dance and drama classes. No need for extreme speeds pulsing through my veins. I’ll jump on the back with Dave here and there, but I’ll let him enjoy that on his own.”
“Oh my goodness, I’m bruised and deaf when she’s on the back with me.” He softly chuckles. “Hands are digging in and she’s yelling for me to slow down when I’m going 60 kph.”
We all share a laugh as she reiterates, “Just not my thing. I can appreciate why you all love it, but I don’t need to love it, too.” She absentmindedly puts her hand on Dave’s neck and strokes the bottom of his hair; an act of familiarity and intimacy. He returns the gesture and puts a hand on her knee and squeezes.
I excuse myself to go to the bathroom and Nikki jumps up to join me. We walk; elbows linked together. I really am grateful to have her around.
While we wash our hands, she looks up at me via the mirror and says, “You’re keeping a secret.”
Fuck. How do I play this? Act dumb.
“What? What secret?” I feign confusion, brows overly furrowed.
“You and Javi. You like him,” she whispers, a sweet smile on her lips.
