Page 21 of Detour

Nervous he won’t hear me, I nod. With a smack, his visor is back in place and we’re off again, flying down the crowded street causing me to squeal like the girl I am. Coty’s body rumbles between my arms.

All at once music fills my helmet. Slowly peering over my shoulder, I see Beckett jerk his chin in my direction before speeding up next to us, then slowing back down into their zig-zag formation. Even through our helmets I can see the twinkle in his eye. He’s singing, laughing, teasing. All while blowing past the legal speed limit with little regard for his own safety, just like the others. This is downright crazy. But incredible, too. The three of them keep the same speed, same distance between bikes, same route, everything, all without uttering a single word. They just know what the other will do before they even do it, like a sixth sense. Watching them like this, their bond is undeniable. They’re in their element and it shows. Confident in their individual skills, they come together as a daunting team. They’re lucky to have found each other and I’m finally able to witness their unshakeable connection firsthand, not just from behind a cloudy peephole.

Okay, so the boys might not be the only ones at Creekwood with stalker-like tendencies.

We turn away from town until buildings disappear replaced by rolling hills covered in dirt and sagebrush. Miles and miles of sagebrush. Most people picture Washington as a green, rain-soaked forest. While that may be true for the northern half of the state, the southeastern section is much like the only batch of brownies my mother ever tried to make—lumpy in spots, cracked in others, under-baked brown, and dry as all hell. Unpalatable. To some. To the rest of us, it’s relaxing. Gazing out at the horizon, seeing everything around you. No skyscrapers blocking the view. No trees caging you in. No people drowning out the silence. Nothing to distract you from the natural beauty that is Washington State.

After a while, my arms begin to tingle with numbness. I take turns rolling each wrist out, replacing them on the tank when I’m done. Coty looks down briefly before returning his attention to the road. I chance a peek over his shoulder at the speedometer then cringe at the number shown. Coty’s been handling the bike with poise and precision, giving me complete confidence in his skills, but I don’t think I’ll ever be used to going that fast. I’m definitely calmer than when we started but I wouldn’t say I feel safe, regardless of his expert driving thus far.

Just then his left hand reaches back, grabbing the bike under my seat. His forearm resting against my hip becomes much more notable than our speed. The instinct to squirm, and not being able to, almost drowns out all other thought, even the small nips on my back from my hoodie’s drawstring— the powerful wind creates a cyclone of strings causing the eyelets to repeatedly pelt against my shoulders. Actually, no, that’s pretty painful. It’s been happening the entire ride but I’m not about to tap out, even if it does remind me of Chinese water torture. I’m already in the fast lane to Crazytown, might as well show up wearing a few—hundred—tiny bruises. Nonetheless, I ignore the pain, concentrating on keeping my breaths steady.

Coty removes his hand and the momentary respite his touch created. The trio veers toward a convenient store, pulling in and killing their engines once parked.

We all dismount, Coty helping me again.

“So, how was it? As bad as you thought?”

I answer, “yes,” instantly making the group laugh. “But it was nice, too.” Our helmets now attached to hidden hooks under the back seat, Coty’s gaze flashes to mine making me swallow thickly. “I don’t know. It was freeing.” I drop my eyes.

His hands wrapping around my wrists steal my attention away from the oil stain next to my foot. “How are your wrists?” Gently, he pulls, bringing me closer. Sweaty strands stick up all over his head reminding me of Beckett’s earlier description. Pretty sure bed-head is my favorite now.

His fingers are rubbing small, mind-altering circles on the sensitive skin just over my throbbing veins. Somehow past a lump, I manage to say, “Good.”

Coty quirks an eyebrow but doesn’t push the issue.

“What do you think, neighbor girl? Addicted yet?”

I try to pull my hands away but Coty keeps his hold on my wrists, gentle yet firm. He’s keeping them. I allow him to, for now, by looking to Beckett. “It’s cool. Scary, but cool. I’m just glad we didn’t have to do any crazy turns or anything.”

They share a cryptic look. My eyes narrow to slits but they’re on the move in the next instant giving me an excuse to extract my hands from Coty’s. The guys head to the back of the store but I linger near the front door, rubbing my shoulders.

Marc’s the first to the register. The surprise on his face matches his tone. “Aren’t you getting anything?”

I shake my head softly. “I’m still full from dinner.”

His gaze drops, taking me in as an unreadable expression crosses his face but he doesn’t say anything more. Thankfully. The truth is I didn’t bring my wallet. My front pocket already packed with my phone and keys, I didn’t have room for it. Plus, I didn’t think I’d need it. I really am full, even if the pop and candy bar Marc’s holding look appealing now that they’re dangled in front of my face.

Over his shoulder, he catches Coty’s eye and I watch as another unspoken conversation passes between the friends. One I’m not privy to. One I don’t even want to hear anyway, so I walk to the bathroom leaving them to their eye-talking while I check on my own ‘sex hair’.

Back outside, I meet everyone lounging on the curb. Luckily, they’re just finishing up with their treats as I rejoin them.

Noticing my approach first, Beckett stands, handing me a wrapped chocolate covered peanut butter bar. One of my favorites.

I dodge the goody. “Thanks, but I’m not hungry.”

Determined, he pushes it into my hand. “It’s tradition. You have to eat something.”

The looks around the circle range from amused to hopeful to doubtful. I peel back the wrapper and break it in half. Giving Beckett the bigger portion, I bite from the smaller piece while trying not to moan. I’ll have to figure out a way to repay him later.

“Thank you.”

I watch in horrified amazement as Beckett devours the whole thing in one bite.

“How tall are you by the way?”

Cheeky grin in place, he answers, “6’6” and still growing.”

“The fuck you are, man.” Marc makes a show of squinting up at his towering roommate.