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“Crap,” I mumble, glancing up from my phone when I reach the parking lot.
Fox straddles his bike, helmet in his hands. He cuts his gaze to me, then looks away. He’s going to strand me here, too.
As I turn to head back up the steps to the school, his voice stops me.
“Get on,” he growls.
“What?”
He can’t be serious. The whiplash is killing me. One minute he’s threatening me, the next he’s barking commands at me.
“Too scared, crybaby?”
The corners of my mouth turn down. “Like hell I am.”
Not when he tries his best to intimidate me, not in the yoga studio, and not now.
Fox narrows his stormy blue gaze and holds out the helmet. “Get on the bike.”
His voice brooks no argument, demanding I do as he says. To get on his motorcycle with the one person in this world who claims he hates me. I breathe out slowly and rub my lips together in consideration.
I will not be afraid of Fox Wilder.
Mind made up, I close the distance between us and accept the helmet. He stares at me for a moment once I have it on, eyes drifting down to my skirt. A throb of heat pulses between my legs. Is he remembering my secret little rebellion?
He tears his attention away while I swing a leg over the rumbling bike behind him. It’s more powerful than I imagined, vibrating through my legs and making a gasp rush out of me. I think he laughs, but I’m too busy thinking about where I have to put my hands.
Fox angles his head, giving me another challenging look over his shoulders. So today is one of the days he’s fine with touching? Fine. I’m not backing down. He should really get that by now. Setting my jaw, I wrap my arms tight around his waist, our bodies melded together from hip to shoulder.
It feels…right. Like that warped piece I’ve been missing finally found a new way to fit us together.
“When you get wet from this, try not to get it all over the leather,” he drawls in a sultry tone.
“I’m wearing underwear today, you ass.”
A little scream leaves me as he revs the engine and takes off like a shot. I hold on tighter, riding the buzzing thrill that zings through me. The longer we drive, the more I drop my guard, enjoying the ride.
It’s exhilarating, calling to my adventurous heart. I want to reach out and coast my hand along the sharp waves the wind creates as the bike moves fast around the bends in the road, but that would mean taking my hands off Fox.
Instead of taking the road that would lead to my house faster, he takes the side of a fork that heads higher into the mountains. I release an excited yell into the sky and feel his shoulders shake with amusement.
I’m struck by the urge to tell him about the road trip I want to take, even though he was a dick in detention. He’s the one who gave me the idea in the first place, back when our families took a vacation to California together. He and I found
a roadmap and plotted out the way from Colorado to the coast, coming up with all these plans for how we were going to go on adventures when we were older. We were going to do it together.
Other than Thea, he’s the only one who might understand why it’s important to me.
The memories of our friendship always outweigh his actions of the present, reminding me of what we once had. Of who he can be when he’s not hating me.
Riding on the back of his motorcycle, I press a smile into his leather jacket and wish it could be like this always.
This is how we’re supposed to be. Just like this. Free and untethered, an open road ahead of us.
The exhilaration of being on the motorcycle clinging to Fox ends abruptly once he pulls up to my house. A line of tension stiffens his back as I step off and I freeze when I find Dad and Holden watching from the front step beneath the arched stone portico.
Dad’s expression shifts from surprise to something I don’t understand when he looks from me to Fox.
“Thanks for not leaving me stranded,” I say, handing the helmet back.
