He mumbles a laugh, tickling my neck with his warm breath. “Have your nerves gone?”
“Well and truly.”
Dax grabs his jacket and pats the motorcycle seat. “Hop in the driver’s seat.”
I throw a leg over the motorcycle as Dax pulls his leather jacket on. He hands me my helmet, and I slide it on as he snuggles behind me. As I grip the handlebars, my veins light with electricity. Being in front feels a million times different from being on the back.
“It feels heavy,” I say timidly.
He laughs, planting his hands by mine. “You’ll be okay. I’m right here with you.”
“You’re not wearing your helmet.”
“It’s okay. You’ll hear me better without it. Besides, I don’t think we’ll be getting any speed behind us today.”
My stomach flips as he talks me through where the clutch, the brake, and the gears are located. My helmeted head feels as heavy as a bowling ball, and I’m certain it’ll roll off my neck any second now.
“Did you get that?” Dax asks in a light-hearted tone.
I shake my head, overdoing it to counteract the fictional weight I’m carrying.
“Whoa. Watch out. You’ll knock me out doing that. Then you really will have to drive us home.”
I take my hands off the handlebars. “This was a mistake. I shouldn’t be doing this.”
“Hey, hey. Don’t panic,” he says gently, his hands staying fixed to the handlebars. “I promise you’ll be fine. If you just see what it’s like to move the bike, I think you’ll be much more confident riding with me. Maybe you’ll stop squeezing the life out of me.”
“I’m sorry,” I squeak, raising my shoulders to my helmeted ears. “That’s been really annoying you?”
He takes a hand off the handlebars and uses it to turn my face toward his. “Nothing you do is annoying. You’re adorable. I just want you to feel more comfortable when you’re with me. Will you just try it? Just move six feet?”
I relax my shoulders. “How could I say no to that face?”
He gives me a cheesy grin. “Handsome, ain’t it?”
I turn my head to face forward and grip the handlebars once more. “Just six feet?”
“That’ll do it.”
“Okay. How do I do it?”
“On your left, that’s the clutch. Give it a squeeze and pull it in.”
I do as instructed, and Dax pulls his arm around me to reach the center console and turns the ignition key.
“See that green light,” he points out. “That tells you the bike is on and in neutral. See the little red button on the right?”
I reach my thumb out to hover over it. “This one?”
“Yeah. Press it, and that’ll get the ignition going.”
I’m too scared to let go of the handle and stretch my thumb to press the button.
A breathy laugh pours out of Dax. “You can loosen up a bit, you know.”
“Mmm, no, I can’t.”
He taps his right hand over my hand. “This hand is on the throttle. You’ll want to give it a little turn as you ease off the clutch.”
