I nod, though part of me wants to stay in this bubble forever. “Yeah. But I don’t want the night to end.”
He stands and offers me his hand. I take it, a little wobbly as I get up. The room spins gently, but his grip is solid. “I’ve got you.”
We say our goodbyes, hugs from Scarlett and Hadley, teasing waves from the guys. Tiny leads me outside, the cool night air brushing my flushed skin. His bike waits under the parking lot lights, looking big and powerful. He helps me with the helmet again, his fingers careful as they brush my hair back and fasten the strap. His touch lingers, making my heart beat faster.
“Same rules as before,” he says, voice low. “Lean with me and hold on tight.”
I climb on behind him and wrap my arms around his waist, pressing close. The buzz makes everything feel heightened, the rumble of the engine vibrating through us, the solid warmth of his body, the way the wind rushes past as we pull out. I rest my cheek against his back and close my eyes, letting the night wrap around us. The ride feels even better than the first time. Safer. Like I belong right here.
Too soon, we’re pulling up to my house. The porch light is on, and my stomach does a nervous flip despite the lingering warmth from the drinks. Tiny parks at the curb, kills the engine, and helps me off. He takes the helmet and sets it on the seat, then walks me to the door, his hand at the small of my back again.
At the top step he stops, turning to face me. The buzz is still there, making me bold. I look up at him, tall, broad, those kind eyes that see too much.
“Tonight was perfect,” I whisper. “Thank you.”
He cups my face gently, thumb brushing my cheek. “You were perfect.” His gaze drops to my mouth, then back to my eyes. “Can I kiss you, Buttercup?”
My heart stutters. I nod, barely breathing. He leans down, slow enough that I could pull away if I wanted to. I don’t.
The front door flies open. “What the hell is going on here?!” Dad’s voice cracks through the night like a whip. I jerk back, heart slamming. Tiny straightens instantly, positioning himself slightly in front of me.
Dad stands in the doorway in his robe, face red with fury. Mom hovers behind him, eyes wide. “Lucy Grace! Have you been drinking? You smell like alcohol!”
“I—” My voice wobbles, the buzz making the words feel thick.
Dad’s glare snaps to Tiny. “And you. You bring my daughter home on a motorcycle, drunk, and then you try to put your hands on her? Who do you think you are, boy?”
“Sir,” Tiny starts, voice calm but firm, “she’s safe. I made sure of it.”
“Safe?” Dad spits. “You’re a criminal riding with some gang. I’ve heard about your kind. You stay away from my daughter!”
“Dad, stop,” I say, stepping forward even as the porch spins a little. “Tiny’s not like that. He’s good. Tonight was—”
“I don’t want to hear it!” Dad’s voice rises. “Get inside this house right now, young lady. And you—” He jabs a finger at Tiny. “Get off my property before I call the police.”
My head feels fuzzy, emotions crashing together, the beautiful night, the almost-kiss, the sudden anger. I turn to Tiny, touching his arm. “It’s okay. You should go. I’ll be fine.”
He doesn’t move right away. His jaw is tight, eyes flicking between me and my dad. “I don’t like leaving you like this.”
“I know. But please. It’ll be worse if you stay.”
He hesitates, then nods once, reluctantly. “Text me when you can, Buttercup. I’m here if you need me.” He gives Dad one last hard look, then heads back to his bike. The engine rumbles to life, and he rides off into the night. I watch until the taillight disappears, heart aching.
Dad grabs my arm and pulls me inside, slamming the door. The sound echoes through the house. “Drinking? Kissing some biker on my front porch? Have you lost your mind?” His voice booms.
Mom finally speaks, her tone shaky. “Lucy, honey… what were you thinking?”
I pull my arm free, the buzz sharpening into something fiercer. “I was thinking that I had the best night of my life. I was with friends, real friends, who actually care about me. Tiny took care of me. He made sure I drank water, he listened, he—” My voice cracks but I push on. “I had rum and Coke. Two of them. And yes, I liked it. For the first time, I felt free. Not trapped by rules and expectations.”
Dad’s face turns an even deeper shade of red. “Free? You’re nineteen years old, living under my roof, and you think you can just run wild with criminals? I raised you better than this!”
“You raised me to be terrified of my own shadow!” The words burst out, loud and raw. The lingering rum gives me courageI’ve never had before. “I’m exhausted, Dad. Every day I smile and nod and try to be the perfect daughter so you won’t be disappointed. I go to the clinic, I study, I come straight home. But what about what I want? I want to be a nurse. I want friends who make me laugh until I can’t breathe. I want to ride on the back of a motorcycle and feel alive instead of scared all the time!”
Mom sinks onto the couch, twisting her hands. “Lucy, please… lower your voice.”
“No!” I whirl on her, tears burning my eyes. “And you, Mom. You just sit there. You always do. Dad talks down to you for years, years, and you take it. You never stand up for yourself. You never stand up for me. Why? Are you scared too? Or do you actually think this is how life is supposed to be?”
Tears spill down Mom’s cheeks. “It’s not that simple, sweetheart. Your father works hard. He wants the best for you—”
