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A momentary escape.
A reprieve from unrealistic expectations.
A time to find herself, be herself, and not have to worry about anyone else.
I hope she takes it. There are times in my world where everything crashes down. Good men die, bad men live. People change, mistakes happen, and nothing is what it once was. My bike, the open road, and nothing except me along with the air around me are sometimes the only solid things I can find.
Dropping my left hand, I give her thigh a squeeze. Her grip on my waist tightens and her thighs come in closer to mine as she reacts to my touch.
Does she feel it? Even for a moment, can she find the release?
Morgan
We ride for what seems like hours, but in reality, it is only an hour to an hour and a half before Ice pulls up to his house.
As he cuts off the bike, I reluctantly unwrap myself from holding so tightly to his waist and drop my hands to his hips.
Somewhere along the ride, for just a little while, I forgot everything. I let myself be consumed by the salt in the air, my hair blowing freely in the wind, the rumble under me, and the man in front of me. Out on the road, the tension between Ice and me shifted. I gave him a piece of myself during that ride, whether he will ever realize it or not.
I took a part of him, as well. No matter what the future holds, I will forever be indebted to him for giving me a little sliver of peace. He allowed me a chance to get lost in the sensations around me, not remain stuck in my head. After this ride, I can see why women want this. There is a bond shared.
He sees inside of me. I don’t know how he does it, but he does. Even when I didn’t know I needed to breathe, to escape for only a little bit, he did, and he gave me that. He has asked me multiple times if I trust him. Until today and this ride together, my answer has been no. Now, I don’t know if I would trust my darkest secrets with him—he is far from being my best friend—although I do trust him to keep his word and to take care of everyone around him.
When he slaps my thigh gently to signal for me to climb off, I pause because I cannot seem to find a graceful way to remove myself from the bike. My legs feel like jelly. It takes some maneuvering before I manage to awkwardly climb off the bike and steady myself in his driveway.
Ice merely stares at me without moving or saying a word. Feeling insecure, I run my fingers through my hair, only to find it is more than a mess. From the knots, the texture, and the overall feel, I can only imagine it sticking out in every which way. No wonder I usually see women on bikes wearing braids. Great, now I can add this to the list of my weird moments with Ice. At least I am wearing jeans and a pair of Madyson’s chucks. Otherwise, I would be really overdressed for our unexpected ride.
While I nervously roll back and forth on the balls of my feet as I stand before him, he blinks as if he is shaking off a daydream.
“Go on inside. Brooke can help you straighten out your hair and shit.”
“I need my car so I can go home,” I say quietly and nervously.
“You can stay here. Give me your keys and one of the boys will go get your car and deliver it to you. I doubt you want to be alone right now; stay here with Brooke. Plus, if you’re here, I can keep track of you easier, and I don’t have to stop searching for your sister to come get your ass from some ghetto.”
“Oh, shit!” I exclaim, covering my mouth with my hand. “I didn’t think you were really looking for her. I’m sorry.” I didn’t take it seriously that he would work to find her. Knowing he put a tracker on my phone shows he is more than serious, and although I am slightly ticked off that he was tracking me without my knowledge, I do understand it. Given my earlier encounter, I am even thankful for it.
“No apologies, not with me, ever. I take you as you are, and you get me as I am.” Something flashes in his eyes, making me wonder if his words mean more than the here and now.
“What are your expectations?” I ask nervously, wondering what he wants me to do while he is looking for my sister.
“No expectations. They lead to resentments, as no one can ever measure up. You start with one set of expectations or requirements, and once someone meets those, the bar always gets raised.”
