“Weare not going anywhere.”
“Ah, so you’re taking my deal then?”
“What? No—” I cut off my protest when he shrugs and swings a leg over the seat of his bike, flipping his helmet in his hands as he prepares to put it on.
This time, I do growl. Never have I felt so many emotions all in one night. It’s the worst sort of rollercoaster. I kind of want the numbness back.
Liar.
“Get off your stupid bike and come here. I don’t want to shout.”
To my surprise, he complies with a grin on his face as he saunters over.
“Yes, m’lady?”
“Ew, absolutely not.” The response spews out of my mouth before I have a chance to think on it. His smile grows even wider,but I ignore it. I think my eye might be twitching. In irritation, of course. It has nothing to do with how enthralling his easy joy is.
“What will it take to get you to stop following me?”
“Oh, I’m afraid that’s not possible. Otherwise I would have done it already,” he says, a contrite look on his face.
Is he being serious? I shake my head.
“Okay. Fine. You go first. Leave now, and I’ll follow when I feel like you’ve gotten far enough away.”
He glances at his bike, then looks back at me. His teeth fiddle with the lip ring on the side of his mouth as his dark eyes ping between mine.
“What?” I say, the ’t’ cutting off sharply as I start to lose patience.
“I mean…” he says, then shakes his head before continuing. “Icoulddo that, but I’ll be honest. I’m just gonna pull over and wait for you.”
“Ugh!” I throw my hands in the air and whip around, storming away a few feet before I turn back to him. One side of his mouth is pulled down and his big eyes are full of remorse. It makes no sense, and yet… something draws me back to him.
“Right. I’ll leave first then. You wait three hours, then you can leave.”
“Then you’ll come to the bar tomorrow?” he asks.
I slump with relief. “Yes.”
“Ten minutes.”
“I—” I blink at him. Did he say ten minutes? “What?” I ask.
“I’ll give you a five minute head start.”
“You just said ten!”
I’m fairly certain my eyes are bugging out of my head. My adrenaline is starting to spike again too, a heady rush infusing my veins, although it doesn’t feel nearly as panicky as it did before.
“Ah, did I?” he says, holding his hands up in a ‘what can you do?’ gesture.
“Two hours,” I reply, gritting my teeth.
“Ten minutes.”
“You can’t haggle the same thing.”
“Okay. Eleven minutes.”
