23
SILVER
The Texas sunhangs low on the horizon as I roll my bike out of the garage. The chrome’s freshly polished and gleaming, ready to go out for a ride.
Solana watches from the driveway, barely containing her excitement judging by how she rocks back and forth on the heels of her feet.
Over the past few weeks, we’ve been through a lot. If it wasn’t the Kel situation then it was the Peña cartel or Tom tearing the club apart from the inside. Spencer’s severed head on my doorstep didn’t help matters.
Neither does the fact that we’ve both been dealing with the heavy burden our forbidden relationship puts on us.
While our time together has been amazing, it’s not easy keeping secrets from everybody we know.
I figured we needed to blow off some steam. We needed an evening like this.
“Here, put this on.” I hand over my spare helmet and leather jacket that’s a couple sizes too big for her frame but will keep her protected.
The jacket swallows her up, making her shoulders broader and hanging past her hands. I crack a grin as she fumbles with the helmet straps, then step over to help.
“Safety first,” she quips under her breath.
I almost grin wider. We both know the gear serves a dual purpose. With the helmet’s tinted visor down and the oversized jacket, nobody’ll recognize Big Eddie’s niece on the back of my bike.
They’ll think we’re any other couple out for an evening ride, anonymous and free.
She climbs on behind me, her arms wrapping snugly around my waist. She’s nervous but excited. That much I can tell just by the energy she exudes and how she presses against me from behind.
Though she’s grown up in the MC culture thanks to her dad, uncle, and older brother, this’ll be her first time on the back of a bike.
My Super Glide Sport rumbles the instant I start it up. The familiar vibration quakes through me, the first sign of a great ride to come. It always makes me feel more alive.
More myself.
If possible, Solana’s heart is racing even faster against my back. I let her grow used to the rumble and vibration from the Super Glide, then I’m pulling us onto the street.
I go slower than usual, coasting to get her familiar and comfortable. Nothing’s more important in moments like these than keeping her safe and showing her a good time.
Once we hit the open highway heading west out of Pulsboro, I press the throttle and let the bike do what it was made for.
The speedometer climbs past sixty, seventy, eighty.
Solana’s arms tighten around me, not out of fear but out of exhilaration. She’s laughing from behind me, the sound partiallydrowned out by her helmet and the rushing wind and rumble from the engine.
You’d think she were on a roller coaster the way she laughs so freely and giddily.
My girl’s an adrenaline junkie.
I realize this as we race down the open highway and she lets one arm go from my middle. She raises it up in the air like she’s trying to touch the wind.
The Texas landscape blurs past us in streaks of brown and gold, mesquite trees, and endless sky, the sun fading in the distance.
We’re riding toward it, watching as it gradually sinks lower and lower along the horizon.
Out on the open road, it’s just the two of us and my bike. It becomes an instant bonding experience we both recognize, jetting across the long, seemingly never-ending stretch.
There’re no murdered college assholes who hurt Solana or severed heads on our doorstep. No mysterious cars watching our every move or motorcycle club feuds to deal with.
It’s me and the one woman in Pulsboro I’m probably not supposed to be with, enjoying what Texas has to offer.
