In the shower, I take my erection in hand and imagine her lips wrapped around it. I imagine running my hands over her wet, naked body, soaping every inch of her curves. It’s madness because I’ve never even seen her body, and all my fantasizing is based on pure imagination. But I’d bet my patch I’m not far off the mark. I know if I ever got her naked, she’d be stunning.
I sit astride my parked bike, staring at her church with my filthy mind in the gutter—the contradiction plain even to me.
Occasionally, someone passes me on the sidewalk, footsteps slowing. Eyes sweep over me, widening. With one glance, I send them scurrying away.
Luisa is one of the last ones out the door, and my eyes drink her in. She’s wearing a demure light blue dress, a cream sweater over it, with her hair tied in a blue ribbon.
My mind immediately imagines her in a matching satin bra and panty set of that exact shade of baby blue, and my mouth goes dry. Christ, I’ve got it bad.
Her family walks around the corner, heading away and down the street to their cars. Luisa and one of her female cousins dawdle behind, bringing up the rear. When they’re all I can see, the rest having disappeared around the stone structure, I fire up my bike with a twist of the throttle.
I get the reaction I knew I would. Luisa isn’t aware of me until she hears the unmistakable sound of my Harley.
She stops and searches until she finds me. Even at this distance, I see her go absolutely still. She recognizes me, and she remembers. Our time together, our kiss—she must relive it just like I do. She has to. At least I can take solace in that fact, and it has to be enough. It’s all I can have of her.
Once I have her attention, I pull out and roar in the opposite direction, my eyes on my side mirror. She stands there watching me until I’m out of sight.
It was crazy to let her see me. I don’t know why I did it. No, that’s a lie. I know exactly why. I did it because I don’t want her to forget me. I want her as tormented by the memory of our kiss as I am.
*****
It’s after 11pm, and I lie in bed staring at the ceiling when I get my first text from her. I pick up my phone and stare at the fourwords on the screen. I hear her voice whispering them in that soft, sweet way she has.
LUISA: I saw you today.
I don’t reply. I know better than to go down that road. But I stare at it for a long time before I set my phone aside on the mattress next to me. Was she happy to see me? Did she want me to approach her? Not with her father there, I’m sure. Still, those words play in my head again and again.I saw you today.
We both know she did.
A few minutes later, my phone chimes again.
LUISA: Why were you there? I know you saw me. You looked right at me.
Again, I don’t respond. Instead, I curse myself for crossing the line today. It should have been enough to watch her. I shouldn’t have called her attention to me.
LUISA: Blue, answer me. I know you’ve been following me. My friends saw you the other day. I need to see you.
Fuck no.
I get up, tossing my phone aside like it’s a rattlesnake. There’s no way I can start meeting her. I’d never be able to stop. I stand and pace the small space back and forth from the door to the window, everything inside me building to a boiling point. Don’t pick up that phone. Don’t do it. If you do, you’ll go see her.
I growl and punch the flimsy door, leaving a hole on my side of the wood. Cursing, I shake my hand out, hoping I didn’t just crack my knuckles. It would serve me goddamn right. Flinging the door open, I storm out of my room at the clubhouse anddown the hall to the common area, where a bar sits against the wall. My brothers are all there.
Rock music pulses through the room with a steady beat.
Zig turns and his eyes sweep over me. “Well, look who decided to join us.”
“I had a headache,” I lie and tap my hand on the bar. The prospect knows what I drink and pulls a longneck bottle of beer from the cooler, pops the cap and slides it before me. “Thanks, kid.”
“What happened to your hand?” Bandit asks, and I glance down to see the skin on my knuckles split and bleeding.
I wipe it on my jeans. “Nothing. Hit it on the door.”
Zig exchanges a look with our prez.
Rio takes a hit of his cigarette and studies me. “I was just tellin’ the boys, we’re making a run down to El Paso tomorrow.”
“Tell him your other news,” Zig says.
