“Eyes on me, Little Chick,” he demands when he pulls back.
“Always.” I pant. How can he doubt it?
He lets me go with a satisfied nod, but takes my hand before pulling me toward his motorbike. I’ve only ridden Michael’s. Raph bought him one, and he let me sit on the back once. I loved it, even thought of buying one for myself, just before Iremembered how clumsy I am. I would probably get stuck under it somehow.
Sari waves at me with an encouraging smile as he gets in Uri’s humongous car. Ezra takes the small clutch from my hands and inserts it under the seat before sliding the helmet on my head—and making a wreck of Michael’s hard work. Thankfully, he and Rami left already.
“Where are we going?” I ask with uncontrolled anticipation. The butterflies in my stomach won’t stop fluttering.
“You’ll see,” he says, before wearing his helmet.
I suddenly have the urge to feel the bike under me, so I lift my leg and mount on the back, placing my feet on the pegs, just like Michael taught me. But I land my butt down too vigorously, making the bike shake and then start to fall to the side. Ezra grips the handle with one hand and curls his other arm around my waist, sliding me toward the front as he stabilizes the bike.
“I’m sorry.” I grip the elastic fabric of my jeans on both legs, feeling so embarrassed and tense again. “I’m ruining this date already.”
“The only thing that will get ruined tonight is your ass if you keep apologizing.” The speaker inside the helmet makes his dirty threat boom inside my ears, and I suddenly squirm on the seat.
“I’m nervous,” I confess. Would he understand?
“Just hold on to me tight. I won’t let you fall…ever.”
That last reassuring word mitigated my anxiety. He knows I’m not talking about the motorcycle. I wrap my arms around him as soon as he sits in front of me and plaster my front to his back.Gods, it feels good. My helmet is on his shoulder, and my thighs are cradling his hips.
He starts the bike and quickly drives off onto the campus road. His hand finds mine at the front of his leather jacket, and he clasps our fingers together. I hope it will be a long ride.
Unfortunately, it only lasts fifteen minutes. He stops the bike outside what looks like an old sports hall. He takes our helmets off and hooks them on the handles. I wait for him to help me down, but instead of just giving me his hand, he puts both of them under my armpits and lifts me up. My way down is slower than I expect as he slides me against his body, lingering when our noses touch. We exchange one breath, before my feet touch the ground. I hold on to him for a moment, needing time to overcome how everything he does, even the smallest gesture, feels so intense.
He gives me my clutch back, and we walk toward the building. I try to read the sign over the discolored wooden entrance doors, but it’s too deteriorated. I think it’s an archery range. I know Ezra is very skilled with arrows. I’ve never seen him shoot one, but I’ve heard Lori and Rague talking about it. Is he going to show off for me? The only image I have in mind of an archer is Robin Hood, and I always found him sort of ridiculous with the outdated clothes and weird pointy hat.
We stop at the front desk inside. We leave our jackets. Ezra talks to the guy for a moment, and then we move to the shooting room. It’s large and wide with ten round colorful targets lined on one side. A sharp scent I can’t quite recognize is mixed with the smell of straw used for the targets. We go to the designated area for bows, quivers, and the rest of the gear.Ezra chooses a bow from the ones hanging on the wall. The same guy from the front desk appears and gives it to him.
“See how it feels,” he says, passing it to me.
“What? Me?” Does he want me to use it?
He just stares.
“I’ve never used a bow before. I have a gun,” I let him know.
“What gun?”
I unzip the bag and hold it open so that he can get a look at it. Only looking doesn’t seem to satisfy him because he grabs it and takes it out. The range is deserted, even the guy who helped us disappeared, so I think we will be fine.
“A ninety-two series. Weighs less than a kilogram with an effective range of eighty meters,” he says, pointing it at a target. “Highly precise and lethal. The size and height are just perfect for you to use. Uri?”
I nod. “He taught me to shoot with Raph. I carry it with me when I leave campus.”
His jaw ticks for some reason. “I’ll give you a better one,” he says, sliding the gun in the back of his pants under the jacket.
“Hey, give it back!”
“Don’t need one when you’re with me,” he simply states, then he grabs the bow and quivers and moves toward one of the lanes.
I follow him, not understanding what is going on. Sometimes Ezra is a real conundrum.
He takes my bag and hands me the bow. “How is it? Too heavy for you?”
“No.” It’s not light since it’s made of some kind of metal and wood, but I can manage.
