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And then…she’s there, and I exhale as she finishes her turn and speeds away.
I watch them ride Phelan’s Throat a few times, both of them disappearing for spells where Farrow is probably giving her pointers, each time she gets smoother and faster.
Then, I watch him nudge his bike into the trees, off the track, and she follows.
I zoom in on my camera, trying to catch a glimpse, but they don’t come back. They’re not riding. What are they doing?
“Hey, Hunter.”
I drop my arms, startled. Turning, I see Coral’s car cruise up to theStopsign, the old Corvair packed with girls. Arlet hangs out the passenger side window. “What are you doing today?” she asks.
No idea.
I think I should welcome a distraction, though. I tuck away my phone. “At your service,” I offer.
She smiles wide and jumps out of the car. “This is supposed to be girls only, but I could use a ride.”
She hops on behind me, and I remove my helmet, handing it to her.
“Where are we going?” I ask.
“Phelan’s Throat,” she replies, pulling on the helmet. “Let’s get Farrow and that Pirate first.” And then to the girls in the car. “Meet you in the Falls!”
The Falls?
They drive off, and Arlet wraps her arms around me before I kick off. Keeping my speed down, I grip the handlebars tightly, doing everything to not let her know that I’ve never ridden with someone else.
But after a minute, I push it faster. She leans when I lean, doesn’t fight the distribution of weight. Not bad. She knows how to ride with someone.
We climb the hill, coming up on the halfway mark to the top, and I see Dylan and Farrow off to the right, in the trees. He sits behind her on her bike, holding her hips, and something coils in my gut.
We stop, and Farrow looks over at me. Dylan holds her handlebars, a soft smile appearing when she sees me.
“Hunter,” Farrow says.
He climbs off Dylan’s bike, and my hands ache before I realize I’m squeezing the handlebars. “You gave her another bike?”
He arches an eyebrow like he doesn’t explain himself.
I look to Dylan. “Where’s your helmet?”
She reaches down on her other side, picking it up off the ground.
She smiles wider, but I don’t return it. Her gaze flashes to the girl behind me, and her expression falters.
“Your friend was about to give me a sex lesson,” she blurts out.
A what?
Farrow tells Dylan, “Well, no one else is giving you one.”
But he looks at me when he says it.
“Navigating the throat is about rhythm,” he says. “Moving with the machine, controlling it and knowing when not to.” He pulls his hoodie back on over his sleeveless whiteT-shirt. “Look at Arlet.” He jerks his chin toward us. “Look at her body on his.”
I go still. Their eyes take us in, and I feel Arlet’s arms tighten around me as I become hyperaware of her weight on my back.
“She’s positioned in a way that she could lay her head down and go to sleep,” he points. “She’s completely in his care. Her thighs hugging, not holding, and there is a difference, Dylan.”
