“I just told him I was headed to my date’s place. If he rides by your building and my truck’s there…”
“Oh, yeah, I could see how that’d be an issue.” Pausing, not sure where he’s going with it. “So, what are we going to do?”
“I’m gonna go get the bike out.” He says as he moves out of the truck door and walks further up the drive.
Moving after him, I ask. “Like your bike?” I realize after it leaves my mouth how dumb it sounds.
He laughs out before turning and glancing at me again. “Opposed to someone else’s?”
“Like the one Dad helped you build?”
Realizing why I’m asking, a smile draws on his face. “Yes.”
He walks up to the old garage and unlocks it before reaching down and pulling the door up. It’s too dark inside for me to see anything from where I’m standing, and my feet propel me forward. He pulls the cover off, revealing it, still looking brandnew, or as brand new as they made the old bike.
“I can’t believe you’ve kept this.”
“Why would I get rid of it?” he asks, looking at me over the seat.
“I don’t know. I guess it doesn’t really seem to fit into your life anymore…” trailing off, unsure of what I’m really trying to say.
“Why? Because it’s loosely tied to the club?”
“Yes, and loosely is an understatement.”
“And the current president of said club helped me build it?”
Slowly, I nod my head.
“And the former president also helped?”
I don’t say anything, just continue to look at him.
He lets out a slight laugh as he leans further, mere inches from my face. “Baby, you realize I’m fucking his daughter, right?” It brings out a slight smile as he brushes his lips against mine before breaking them apart, but remains close enough that I can still feel them. “I’m pretty sure it fits into certain aspects of my life seamlessly.”
The smile widens as he nods towards the door, pushing it out. Moving back inside for a moment, I look over the bike sitting in front of me. I saw them working on it for so long. It brings back memories of my childhood. Before everything got so fucked.
Smiling at him as he walks back over with a helmet held out for me.
He steps over the seat before he holds his hand out to me. Using it to step over, I slide up behind him and hesitating beforewrapping my arms around him.
“You okay?” comes through my helmet. Giving me that warm and fuzzy feeling how he’s able to sense my unease.
“Yeah…” I trail off.
“Sketch?”
“I just haven’t ridden much since…”
“Really?” he turns around, looking at me through the visor. “Why not?”
Shrugging my shoulder, giving him a non-answer, but he takes it, cranking the bike, before we’re moving back out onto the road.
Zoning out, because I’d rather think about nothing than what being on this bike will bring back.
Not a single bad memory, but also not memories that would keep from doing anything less than sobbing uncontrollably.
“Shit,” Eli mumble through my helmet.
