“Oh my God.” Heat burned my cheeks.
That was not Devlin. The man on the bike struggled to maintain control, jerking the handlebars trying to overcorrect. That blond head of hair shone like a beacon in the pink light of the setting sun. He coasted into the space in front of us, coming to a stop. Sanders’ legs shot out to stop the bike from falling over.
“What is even happening?” Suzie asked next to me.
“I have no idea,” I mumbled.
I imagined all four of us mirrored the same shocked face, jaws hanging open. Kim’s shocked laughter broke the silence. It wasn’t long until Suzie and Gretchen joined.
Sanders finally wrangled the bike into a standing position and hopped off with his usual cool confidence. He shook out his wind-blown hair. If there had been any wind. Or if he’d been really riding and not just pushed into the parking lot by Devlin who waved to Kim from a few yards back.
“Oh my God,” I repeated, hiding my face in my hands.
At my side, the girls oohed and awwed.
“Look at those pants. I need those pants,” Suzie said.
Above black and white Chucks, Sanders wore black leather pants.Tight, black leather pants. In fact I would argue that “wore” wasn’t the right word because he clearly had been painted into them. They left very little to the imagination.
“Okay, well, now I get it,” Gretchen said and I elbowed an “oof” out of her.
I was vaguely aware of Ford, Jack, Devlin, and Skip on his crutches approaching the scene. My friends and I continued to stare as Sanders put on his show. He chewed on a toothpick, as he shrugged out of his leather coat, and laid it on Devlin’s bike. He squinted out to the horizon as he took a black fine-tooth comb from his back pocket. His arms flicked out with gusto.
“Lord help us,” I said.
Carefully, he brought the comb up to the side of his now trimmed hair to run the comb through the gelled sides. Slicked back with what must have been copious amounts of gel, he smoothed it out with the comb. His beard was gone but sideburns were halfway down his cheeks. Without the leather jacket, the white shirt he wore was fully on display. I had to admit the biceps flexing under the tightly rolled T-shirt did very good things to my insides.
He finished his dramatic hair comb and tucked it back into his leather pants. Honestly, I was astounded there was even room for it in those pants.
He made his way over to us and my heart beat faster.
“Hi, Roxxo,” he said.
“Hi, Sanders. I like your pants,” I said thoroughly examining them.
“They’re great, eh? I may not be able to have children now. But I’d say it was worth it.”
I bit back a smile.
“Are you grand-gesturing me, Sanders?” I asked.
“I’m here to ask you out on a date,” he said.
“I don’t want to date you,” I said.
“Lie,” he said, the charming smile sliding from his face replaced with heated intensity. I was vaguely aware that my friends had begun drifting off to give us privacy.
“I don’t want to talk to you, Sanders,” I said.
“Lie.” He stepped closer.
When we were only a few inches away from each other, he stopped. He didn’t reach for me but his body burned brighter than the midday sun had. Now that it was almost set, his body glowed in the perfect light. He actually glowed. I so badly wanted to lean into him.
“I don’t want you to hurt me again,” I said.
“Truth.”
I leaned in and kissed his cheek before I whispered, “This wasn’t how this was supposed to go.”
