That’s it. That’s the end of her sentence.
“Okay....um in the morning?”
“No. I’m dropping it off at 4:30. I need you to pick me up and give me a ride to work.”
YESSSSSSSS!! FUCKING YESSSSSSSSSSS!!
“Sure. No problem. Pick you up after work then, too, I guess?”
She rolls the prettiest damned chocolate brown eyes I’ve ever seen.
“You were already going to pick me up anyway. I need you to take me to get my bike when it’s ready, though.”
She has friends.I know she does. She’s extremely close to the Tweedle Twins, but there are others, too. We’ve talked about them. She has all of these other people in her life, but she wants me to do these favors for her.How exactly does one keep their shit together when it seems that one’s life mission is nearing the landing pad? Not a damn clue and honestly, I have very little interest in hiding things from this girl....well, hiding anything else anyway.
She pretends to be annoyed at my ever-widening grin as she shakes her beautiful head and again rolls those incredible eyes.
“See you tomorrow, V.”
As she’s shutting the door, “See you at the ass crack of dawn, Eli.”
V
Coming out.
Eli
Waiting......
V
You aren’t funny. Like ever.
Eli
I know. You snort like that because of a deviated septum and not because you’re struggling to breathe and choking on laughter.
V:
I’m still laughing at her terrifying threat when she emerges from the bar.Does she get more beautiful every time I’m away from her? She’s intoxicating.
She’s trying to stifle the smile she gets every time she sees me waiting here like a lovesick chump.
“Madam.”
“Monsieur.”
My chuckle stays low in my chest, warming me all over.
I get on the bike and wait for her to wrap her small arms around my waist. It’s a struggle to control my breathing in the window of anticipation. The feel of her wrapped around me is exhilarating and now that I know the feeling,I want it all the time. How do I orchestrate more moments with her on the back of my bike? Can I tell her I’m afraid to ride alone? I’ll have to fabricate some sort of recent trauma. It could work.
Is this addiction? Could be worse. Could be meth. At least it’s not meth.
I turn toward her to make sure that her helmet is secure and that her foot placement is safe while also trying to avert my gaze from how perfectly sinful she looks. It does something to me seeing her in that tiny skirt with her incredible legs straddling MY bike.
“You know, I have my own bike and I’m a fully grown adult woman.”
Huh? What does that even mean?My face must communicate my confusion because she elaborates.
