“On the bike.”
I gape at it and then at him. “Wait, you own this thing?”
He nods.
“And you want me to hop on so you can do…what, exactly?”
“Give you a ride to the bookstore. We can make it in time for you to buy the books.”
“Wait, wait, wait. Are you offering to give me a ride to the bookstore?”
“Yes. Seems you’ll have a heart attack if you don’t read the romance subplot of that mystery book. The one that apparently is supposed to be the best thing that has ever graced our planet?”
My cheeks flame. I have no idea if he’s making fun of me or is just teasing me. Does a guy like Damian even tease? But it doesn’t seem like he’s ridiculing me.
“There’s only so fast I can go without breaking the law.” He gestures to the bike.
I’m so flabbergasted that my words are stuck in my throat. Am I dreaming, or is the guy who seems like he hates the world offering to take me to the bookstore? This can’t be real.
When my vocal cords finally work, I say, “Are you trying to make a romance trope come to life?”
“What?”
“You know, the rebellious bad boy gives the sweet, innocent girl a ride on the back of his motorcycle and then…”
He just watches me with an unreadable expression.
“Well, you know,” I finish lamely.
“Actually, I don’t know,” he says as he moves closer. “What happens to the sweet, innocent girl who rides on the back of the rebellious bad boy’s bike?”
“Well…she…” I stammer as I instinctively stumble back.
Damian doesn’t move forward, though. I think he’s worried he’s scaring me.
I shrug. “It’s just a romance trope. Not a real depiction of life. Romance tropes don’t actually happen in real life.”
“You don’t believe that,” he states.
Now my brows fly up. “How would you know that?”
He keeps his eyes on me for a short while before tearing them away. “Do you want a ride to the bookstore or not? You don’t have a lot of time.”
Oh my gosh, what a dilemma! I really, really,reallywant to pick up those books. I feel like I might die if I don’t hold them in my hands in the next hour. But to ride on Damian’s bike? How dangerous is that?
Would he really hurt me, though?
“If not, I’m heading out.” He shoves his helmet over his head and moves to the bike, ready to mount it.
“Wait!”
He turns around and raises the visor of his helmet.
“I’d like a ride to the bookstore, please,” I say.
“Thought you’d never ask. Hop on.”
I know some girls always dream of riding on the back of a bike behind a really hot guy, but in reality? It’s kind of terrifying. First of all, he doesn’t have a spare helmet. Second of all, this thing is supposed to go really fast. What if I can’t hold on and fly off? I’d be roadkill before I even experience my first kiss.
