Dax folds his arms, and a smug smile tugs at his lips. “So?”
I smooth down my tweed blazer. “I’ve already tried dressing down.”
Dax laughs, letting his arms fall to his sides. “Everything about you looks expensive.” He gestures toward the motorcycle store. “You stood out like a sore thumb. A very pretty thumb, but still.”
“Basic isn’t really something I’mallowedto have in my wardrobe.”
“Maybe you’ll have to find it at the mall?”
I click my tongue, fighting off my smile. This boy is too darn irresistible. “Okay. I’ll find something.”
Dax stifles a laugh. “No matter how you dress, I bet you’d never blend in where I’m from. And that would be a good thing.”
I flick my index finger over my eyelashes. “Maybe I would if I wore some heavy eyeliner.”
Dax twists his lips. “Hmm. Not your style.”
“Neither are jeans and a tee.”
“Nope. You’ll look super cute.” He caresses my cheek. “Your big brown eyes are just too pretty to be ruined by thick black lines.”
I blush under his gaze. “Oh. Well, thanks.”
He plants a soft kiss on my lips. “You’re welcome.”
“I think you’ll look ridiculously handsome in a tux.”
Dax laughs. “I dunno. Sounds like a bit of a stretch.”
I grab onto the front of his leather jacket and lean into him. “Guess I’ll have to wait and see tomorrow.”
“I guess so.” He wraps his arms around me. “So, you want to go riding again?”
I nod eagerly. “Take me somewhere where it’s just us.”
We both slip on our helmets, and I climb onto the bike behind Dax.
“Ready, Sassy?” Dax calls over the rev of the engine.
I hug my arms around his middle. “Ready, broody.”
Dax laughs at my pet name attempt, pulling the motorcycle off the curb. It doesn’t take long for us to gain speed, and I plant my helmet against his leather-covered shoulder blade. Soon we’re out of the town center, and headed toward Mountains Road.
As the township disappears, and the motorcycle opens up, my body stays relaxed. Something I couldn’t experience during my massage earlier. An uncontainable smile brightens my helmet-framed face. I can’t imagine any scenario where being with Dax will cause me undue stress. Being at home with my absent-minded father, bickering with my moody brother, or video chatting with my control-freak mother, are all confirmed ways I’ll rip out every strand of hair on my head.
Being with Dax is the closest to peace I’ve ever felt.
Twelve
Onourascentupthe mountains, we approach a spot loaded with parked cars and people huddled in groups. It’s called Dead Left Cliff. It’s a steep cliff-edge where kids from school like to party and hang out. I’ve gone a few times when my friends haven’t had better suggestions of how to spend our free time. I always thought the view was exceptional, but it’s nothing compared to the place Dax took me last night.
Dax’s shoulder bounces with a snigger. He motions to the people gathered by the side of the road. “Bunch of posers,” he yells over the air zipping past us.
“Isn’t it dangerous?” I yell back.
“More like a tourist attraction,” he says, laughing it off.
I tug my clasped hands into his stomach. “You’re not taking me somewhere more dangerous, are you?”
