But a half hour passes, and nothing happens. Late students dash across the grass. Others drift in and sit down, much like Marietta and her friends had done. The morning sun shifts higher in the sky.
Then class is out, and students move in every direction. I stand, concerned that I will lose her in the crowd.
But then she’s there, waving bye to Jenna and walking toward me in the sea of people.
This one’s mine, I think, or she could be, if we played it right.
Would we?
Watching her approach, her hair shining in the sun, smiling like I’m the best thing she’s seen all day, is something wholly unfamiliar.
I feel stunned, frozen in place, like I’m looking at something everyone else understands but I’ve only just now figured out.
This could be good. Really good.
“All done!” she says. “I hope you weren’t too bored.”
I shake my head. “You want to go back to the club?”
“I’ll go anywhere you go,” she says. “I have my books. I can study anywhere.” She leans in close. “Or we can break in another part of the bar. I’ve been thinking about those mirrors in Hookup Heaven.”
My body revs. She’s something. A wonder. “Yeah,” I tell her. “Let’s do that.”
We head toward my bike. Two-Shit has taken up that corner.
“Everything looks clear,” he says.
“We’re heading to the bar,” I tell him. “Once we break town, no need to follow us. I’ve got it.”
He nods. “Cool. We should get on that construction job.”
“Thank you,” Marietta says. “I hate to be so much trouble.”
Two-Shit flips his ignition switch. “All in a day’s work for the club.” His bike roars to life. “I’ll tell the others,” he shouts over the motor. Then he’s off.
Marietta and I load up and head out of the parking lot. She’s handsy as we ride, slipping her fingers up my shirt to caress my skin. Then she goes lower, searching for my dick. She’s going to find it in a second if she keeps that up.
We roar down the highway out to the Leaky Skull. It’s a cool November day but not cold. South Florida rarely is. We pass a semi and slide back into our lane.
I note a couple of bikes ahead, coming at us from the other direction. Hard to know who they are.
I watch them warily as the distance closes.
Then out of nowhere, a red truck screeches out of a parking lot and cuts in front of me.
The two bikes close in, and I have to run onto the shoulder to avoid hitting them.
We’re pushed into the grass for a moment, bumping along.
Marietta lets out a scream but hangs on.
The car comes up behind me on the road. I don’t dare go in front of it. They are obviously here to run us down.
Up ahead, there’s a cleared-out stretch of land. I head for it, away from the road, and cut across. For a moment, I think the other bikes will follow, but as we bump along, the noise of their engines gets quieter.
I check my mirrors and see they’re still up on the road. The semi has caught up with them, probably spooking them.
I yank my phone from my pocket and hit the shortcut to Google Maps. There’s a back road off the other end of the parcel. I head for it, diving into the ditch and coming up the other side.
