Her smile widens. “I got a motorbike.”
“I can see that,” I murmur, stepping toward her as she stands next to a black and red motorbike in the parking garage of her apartment. Anything that doesn’t have more than two wheels is a recipe for disaster. “How, when, and why do you have a motorbike?”
She bounces on her heels. “I got it before I left for London. Do you like it?”
I examine the bike, and I want to tell her no. I want to tell her that it’s dangerous and unsafe, and she should not be allowed to ride this, but I can’t. The look on her face, the messy frizz of her hair from where the helmet was, and the way she seems genuinely excited to ride this death trap has me sending all rational thoughts out the window.
She’s spent this entire summer working with Lina at Glow as well as visiting her brother at Voss’s headquarters in London. I’d be an idiot to wipe that smile of her face now when she’s been on such a high. I should’ve known something was up when she asked me to meet her here before grabbing dinner tonight.
“Yeah, it suits you,” I say instead. She makes a silly, happy noise, picking up another helmet from the ground and handing it to me.
“This is for you,” she says, dropping it into my hands.
I blink at her. “You want me to get on this thing with you?”
“Well, it’s date night, and that’s what loyal boyfriends who love their girlfriends do, so yes,” she says.
“Scarlett, baby, I love you, but I’m not getting on that thing,” I say, grimacing down at it. I like my life. I like the way things have been going for the past couple of months. I already think about death and dying too much on a daily basis, and I’m sure if I go anywhere near that, something bad is going to happen.
“You need to take more risks,” Scarlett argues, pouting at me.
“This is a life-or-death situation, it’s different.”
She sighs. “I’ll even let you drive.”
“How is that making this situation any better?”
She lifts one shoulder, biting on her bottom lip. “I don’t know. I just think you’d look hot riding it.”
I think about it for a second. I really,reallydon’t want to die, but I trust Scarlett. I trust her and her judgment more than my tidy puzzle brain sometimes. She might be chaotic and spontaneous, but that’s one of the things I love most about her. She pushes me and challenges me. If the next challenge is sitting on this death vehicle, then so be it.
“Fine,” I grumble, and her entire face lights up. “We’re going from here to my place. No further. Your hands don’t leave me at any point. Got it?”
Scarlett salutes me with a wink. “Yes, sir.”
After she’s shown me the ropes, and I get the hang of it, she climbs on the back of the bike, wrapping her arms tight around my stomach and resting her cheek against my back. The road to my house is pretty straight, and if she knows how to ride around safely, I’m sure I can do the same.
I don’t expect it to feel so natural when we set off. Everything about this feels like second nature, like the pep talk she gave me somehow instilled the confidence right into my bones. The anxious butterflies in my stomach started to filter away the more I drove, and by the time we get to my place, I feel like I’m floating.
“Holy shit. That was fun!” I exclaim, hopping off the bike before helping Scarlett down. I pull off my helmet before taking hers off, and I’m greeted by a flushed and happy Scarlett beaming back up at me. “Did you have fun?”
“The most fun,” she says, looping her arms around my neck and kissing me.
“I have a surprise for you before dinner,” I whisper, not being able to hold it in any longer. Her eyes widen.
“You do?”
“Yeah,” I say, pulling apart from her and opening the door to my car. She gives me a skeptical look, but she doesn’t put up much of a fight.
Half an hour later, she still has no idea where we’re going, and I park the car and hand her a silk blindfold. “Okay, we’re almost there. Put this on.”
“Are you luring me to my death? Because if you are, I’d like to know a little in advance,” she laughs, running the silk through her hands.
“Don’t worry about it,” I murmur, pressing a kiss to her cheek and sliding out of the car. I help her out before gently wrapping the silk around her eyes. “Is the blindfold okay?”
I hold my palm out, and she clasps her hand in mine. “I think I kind of love it. We should use these more often,” she says, squealing excitedly.
“Okay. Just mind your step. I’ll tell you when to turn and when to take off your blindfold. Are you scared? You shouldn’t be. Honestly, it’s not that big of a deal. I’m being way too dramatic and—”
