Joan and I exchange smiles before she turns around and strolls back toward the house.
Chapter Twelve.
“She knows about my surprise? Now I’m extremely curious what you got me. It better not be something gross. The last time you said you got me something, it was roadkill stuffed into a bucket….”
He laughs loudly as the large, faded wooden barn comes into view. “I forgot about that.”
I scowl at him from behind. Maybe I should trip him for revenge.
He opens the back barn doors and steps inside.
“Ben, it was disgusting. It smelled so bad, I almost vomited.”
“We were ten. What else was I supposed to get you?”
“Candy?”
“Well, hopefully this’ll make up for it. Come on.”
I follow behind him, jittery down to the bone from anticipation. He walks to a workbench behind his red motorcycle that has what must be my present on top ofit. An all-white motorcycle helmet with a pink bow on it. My mouth drops open in shock. I squeal, unable to contain my excitement and run over to it.
“You’re going to let me ride your motorcycle?” I squeal excitedly, jumping up and down with the helmet and turning to him for confirmation. I can’t believe it. I’ve been begging him since we were little kids to ride, but he’s never let me. Well unless I’m getting sexually assaulted, I guess. I shake off the thought. No, this moment is too precious to be ruined.
When I first asked him to ride as kids, he said he didn’t want cooties on his tyke bike. Even after I showed him the cootie shot on my hand and gave him one, so we were both protected, he wouldn’t let me.
Then when he got his first automatic motorbike in our teens, he didn’t let me ride with him because he said it was too dangerous. Plus, he said he didn’t want to scare other chicks off because he didn’t want them to think we were dating.
Then finally, when he got his last adult motorbike, I asked one last time and he said no it was too dangerous, point blank. So, then I gave up and haven’t asked since. I got sick of the rejection.
He belly-laughs, watching me jump up and down and dart over to his classic red Ducati. The other motorcyclehe saved me with last night isn’t in the barn, but I don’t give it much thought. I’m too excited to ride this one.
“I’m glad you like it.” He crosses his arms and one leg over the other, goosebumps trickling all over his skin from the chilly air and being half wet. I admire the seat of the bike, gliding my fingers over the beautiful black leather as small resistances from friction catch on my skin.
“What changed? Why now?”
Even Tree never rode with him.
Oh my God, I’m going to be his first official backpack.
I don’t know what to do with myself. An ease settles over me, giving my limbs a sort of lightness like I’m walking on air.
“Well, I wasn’t ever allowed to have anyone on the bike because my parents wouldn’t let me. I obeyed their rules and proved to them I could be a responsible rider all these years. I’ve shown I can handle a bike on my own just fine and am responsible enough to have someone on my bike if I want to. Now that I’m eighteen and going off to college, they’ve agreed to let me make my own decisions on the matter. So, I’ve decided you’re my first.”
“Good to know all your past excuses were fake,” I laugh. “But seriously, I’m honored to pop your backpack cherry,” I wink.
He bursts out laughing again. God, his smile is beautiful. That laugh will be the end of me.
I caress more of his bike in awe, the smooth plastic making my insides buzz and start to swing my leg over.
Time to ride.
“Woah, woah, woah. Not so fast, sparkplug.”
Grimacing, I cross my arms in front of me. “Sparkplug? Really? That’s what your dad calls me.”
“Well, you’re jumping the gun here a bit.”
“But you said I could ride with you!”
