I nod, adjusting to the controls. The bike feels powerful, almost alive, beneath my hands. As I kick it into gear, I can’t help the thrill that courses through me. We exit the parking lot, the engine’s rumble echoing against the quiet buildings.
Once we hit the main road, my nerves fade, replaced by pure adrenaline. The city lights blur when I’m full throttle. His grip around my ribs tightens slightly, surrendering control entirely to me.
“Not bad . . .” he says close to my ear. The wind steals most of his words, but the praise is unmistakable.
“Hold on.”
A smirk tugs at my lips. I can’t help myself. I push the bike faster, weaving through the streets with ease. But the thrill is tinged with caution. Every time I glance in the side mirror, I see him. Helmetless, his dark hair tousled by the wind, and his expression calm but watchful. My pulse spikes at the thought of something happening to him.
I slow down a fraction, easing off the throttle as we approach a quieter stretch of road. I ease the bike to a stop at a red light, taking a deep breath to steady myself.
“Diego, it’s not safe without a helmet?—”
“Neither is racing a train,” he cuts in, a teasing edge to his voice that softens the reprimand. “Relax, Izzy. I trust you.”
The words hit me like a jolt. He trusts me with his life right now. That knowledge both exhilarates and terrifies me. He trusts me enough to ride like this.
I don’t trust him at all.
The paradigm isn’t lost on me.
But I don’t know how to fix this. I don’t know if I can, but I can’t take his bike joyriding and act like nothing happened between us. He appeals to my adventurous side, the one that gets along great with him. But this isn’t me the majority of the time. It can’t be, and he has to realize that. He can’t choose to like only a part of me. It’s all or nothing.
Diego leans forward.
“You’re incredible, you know that?”
The light changes.
I don’t respond.
I am too overwhelmed by the mix of emotions swirling inside me. I keep driving until the city fades entirely, replaced by long, dark stretches of road and the faint hum of crickets in the distance.
I don’t have a destination in mind. I just need to keep moving and let the bike and the night air clear my thoughts. He stays silent behind me, his warmth pressed against my back.
Finally, a sign catches my eye. A small roadside diner, half-hidden by overgrown trees and a weathered parking lot. I pull into the empty lot, kill the engine, and yank off his helmet. The sudden silence feels deafening after the roar of the Ducati, and I exhale, feeling the tension in my chest ease.
Diego slides off the bike first, holding out a hand to help me. I ignore it, climbing off on my own, but his touch lingers on my arm in a way I both hate and crave.
“This is where you wanted to go?”
He glances at the flickering neon sign of the diner.
“It’s quiet,” I say simply, shaking out my hair and tucking the helmet under my arm while my bag still sits cross-body over his chest.
Inside, the diner is exactly how I remember it. Worn leather booths, linoleum floors, and a jukebox in the corner that hasn’t worked in years. A lone waitress stands behind the counter, giving us a disinterested glance before returning to her crossword puzzle. I slide into a booth in the back, motioning for him to follow.
He sits across from me, leaning back with an ease that irritates me. He’s too comfortable and self-assured. I hate how it makes me feel. Like I’m the one on edge chasing him for answers.
“Well, aren’t you full of surprises, Rossi?”
His eyes roam the bar, taking everything in as the waitress saunters over with sticky menus and worn silverware that’s seen better days. She grabs our drink orders, looking hard at Diego when he orders a beer, but decides against carding him.
“I believe you made a food poisoning comment at the go-kart track. I assume this is payback.”
There’s humor in his words.
A lightness that seeps into my chest, lifting my spirits slightly. I only slightly twist my lips, not wanting to entertain the pleasantries too long, as I need to get this over with for my own sanity.
