“But—”
“There doesn’t always have to be a destination, TT. Sometimes it’s for the joy of the ride. Now stop stalling and get on.”
I rest my hand on his shoulder and awkwardly swing my right leg over the bike, sliding as far back on the seat as I can. The machine feels enormous beneath me.
Justin starts up the bike. “Better hold onto me,” he says over his shoulder. “I don’t want you left behind on the sidewalk.”
Quickly, I scoot closer and grip his shirt. He navigates out of the parking lot and pulls into the traffic.
Riding on the bike is an awkward balancing act as I try to hold onto Justin while still attempting to maintain a degree of distance between our bodies. It’s impossible for me to relax. When he takes a sharp corner and I lean the wrong way, causing the bike to wobble unsteadily, he pulls over and cuts the engine.
Flipping up his visor, he twists in his seat to face me. “What’s going on?”
I raise my visor, but don’t meet his gaze. “This doesn’t feel right. I can’t get comfortable.”
“That’s because you’re thinking too much. Relax.”
“I can’t.”
“You need to trust me. On the bike you need to trust me completely.”
Lowering my visor, he faces forward, snags my arms and wraps them tightly around his waist, pulling me up against him. “Lean on me. Feel which way my body is moving and follow my lead.”
My cheeks warm at his words, but his tone is matter-of-fact. I tell myself to stop being silly. This is a bike ride, a first for me, and I should take advantage of that and enjoy the experience.
With my arms locked around his waist, we take off again, weaving through the traffic, passing sprawling office parks housing sleek corporate buildings. My breath catches the moment I glimpse the approaching turn, but I force myself to relax and lean with Justin into the curve. After completing the turn, I straighten with him, my skin tingling with excitement. He squeezes my wrist, and that brief gesture of approval has warmth curling through my body.
The wind and engine noise make verbal communication difficult, but I don’t mind. There’s no pressure to keep a conversation going and I find myself enjoying the rare, flash glimpses of farmland that have so far escaped industry’s axe. Not that my mind is always on the scenery. I keep getting distracted by Justin’s confident handling of the bike. Watching the flick of his wrist on the twist-grip is also doing funny things to my stomach. A peek over his shoulder tells me he likes to flirt with the speed limit, but I also sense immense restraint on his part, and I wonder if he’s holding back because of me.
Sometime later, we return to the restaurant parking lot and the bike shudders to a stop next to my car. People are leaving the restaurant and scraps of conversation and laughter drift our way. A light breeze carries the scent of dry grass and the hint of rain.
I climb off the bike and remove my helmet. Justin tugs off his helmet, but stays seated, his eyes flickering over me. “What do you think?”
“I loved it,” I say with a grin. “The sense of freedom, the feeling of danger. It’s addictive.”
He smiles back at me, his eyes darkening. “I suspected you were hiding a wild side.”
We stare at each other for one, two, three heartbeats before I break eye contact and hand him back his jacket. “Thanks for the ride.”
“No problem.” He starts the bike. “We’ll meet up again Monday.”
I nod, my heart pounding, and watch him accelerate away. Blazing in my mind are his words,I suspected you were hiding a wild side.
It’s what I suspected all along too.
43
AMY
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Friday, July 16
I open my eyes, blinking in the brightness of a bedside light. I’m lying on a strange bed in a strange room. My fingers are throbbing. I lift my hand to see that four of my fingers are bandaged.
I feel the first stirrings of panic.
What’s going on? Why can’t I remember anything?
