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“Because that’s what I’m here for. You should never have to lift a finger.”
I raise my hand in the air. “What about five? Wait…” I point to my thumb. “Unless you don’t count this one, then I guess there’s only four.”
Simon pinches his eyes shut. “You are so frustrating.”
I bop him on the nose. “I know.”
A group of motorcycles whizz by us and revs their engines.
“Fucking tool bags,” I mutter. “Letting everyone know how tiny their penises are.”
Simon glances in the direction they went and then at me. "I have an idea."
“If it’s not better than finger painting, I swear to God…”
“Trust me.” Simon downs the last of his water and tosses his bottle into the recycling bin. He clears off the rest of our trash and discards it. “Come on.”
I follow him, because what other option do I have? My only hope is that he doesn’t let me down. But I guess with how things are currently going, the bar isn’t exactly that high.
* * *
We drive in Simon’s Volvo across town and pull into a parking garage. He punches in an access code and the gate opens, granting us access.
“Where are we?”
“My place.”
So much for those boundaries. Simon is really going all out with the things we aren’t supposed to be doing.
“Don’t get any ideas,” he tells me before my mind can run too rampant. “We aren’t staying.”
“Oh, no. I totally wasn’t.” I release the grip I had on my knee. “What are we doing here?”
“Switching rides.” He pulls into a spot at the far end, where no other cars are parked. Simon puts the car into park, cuts the engine, and hops out, darting around to my side before I can get my hand on the door handle.
I step out onto the pavement and look around, wondering what the heck his intentions are. There aren’t any vehicles near us but maybe he plans on having us walk to whatever we’re swapping to.
But Simon doesn’t lead us away from here. He fumbles with the keys on his chain and unlocks the small garage we’re next to. Simon’s shirt rises as he lifts the door, a bit of his torso exposing itself in the process.
I blink to see into the darkness of the small enclosure and settle my sights on what he must have in mind.
Simon strolls inside and pushes the two-wheeled machine out into the open.
“A motorcycle. You own a motorcycle?”
He chuckles. “This isn’t justanybike, love. It’s a Ducati Panigale.”
“Am I supposed to know what the means?”
“No, probably not.” He turns the key and pushes a button to start the bike. The thing roars to life, and the sound alone is enough to send a chill down my spine.
Okay, maybe Simon might actually pull tonight off.
He revs the throttle but not as excessively as those douchebags in town. No, Simon does it like doing so has a purpose.
Still, I can’t help but find an opportunity to tease him. “Is this your way of telling me you have a tiny penis?”
His seductively green stare locks onto mine. “That is for me to know, and for you to find out.” He winks at me.
