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Without access to her class schedule or my phone, it’s a considerable pain in the ass to track Gigi down. I haven’t spoken to my father, but I got an email notification from the carrier that a new phone was shipped out via same day delivery. Until it comes, I have to track her down the old-fashioned way.
The first couple of people I ask seem more confused by the question than anything else. They’re so surprised I’m asking, it keeps them from comprehending the words I’m using. Then I catch their sly smiles when they point me in the right direction, obviously convinced that I’m planning something nefarious.
By the afternoon, word of our very public kiss has fully made the rounds. People only stare as I walk by, even if they're smart enough to keep their mouths shut and look away if they meet my gaze. No one is brave enough to say anything to me directly, but I can practically hear their thoughts playing in stereo inside my head.
Did you hear about that kiss?
Are they back together?
What is he doing with that total slut?
I go to class because I don’t really have a choice, but my mind is as far away as it can get. The only thing I remember is the fact that Gigi wasn’t in any of them. All I can think about is that people won’t have any problem saying what they’re thinking to her, especially if I’m not there as a buffer.
She evades me until well after dinner, since we don’t have any classes together this semester. Every other moment is taken up by Havoc business. Brady has practically turned into a miniature tyrant since the end of winter break, not that he was a joy to be around before.
I had to spend the hours between my morning and afternoon classes, listening to his plans for our supposedly upcoming Initiation. If anyone complains, he is always ready with the threat of our impending Initiation to keep us in line. At this point, I don’t even care if it happens. I just want him gone.
My phone is delivered right before dinner. I ignore the slew of messages and voicemails that populate as I turn it on. My mother has called me a handful of times and I feel a pang of regret when I decide to put off calling her back. I’m sure Felicia has already told her I’m still alive, so the lecture about how much I make her worry can be delayed without too much guilt.
The text message that I send to Gigi is quick and to the point. Then I spend the next several minutes with the phone clenched in my hand as I wait for her to respond.
We meet outside her dorm building in full view of all the open windows facing the courtyard.
The loud revving of my engine pierces the silence as I turn the throttle with the gear still pushed into neutral. It’s an obnoxious move, the kind of thing I despise when other riders do it. But I’ve got good reason. I want to make sure everyone within hearing knows exactly what is going on here.
Drake Van Koch is about to take the infamous Olivia Pratt out on a date and nobody better say a damn thing about it.
Gigi comes out of the building slowly, practically dragging her feet as I wait patiently next to the idling motorcycle. I resist the urge to spank her bare ass in front of the onlookers gathered at the windows, because that probably wouldn’t send the right message.
The moment she is within arm’s reach, I snatch her up so that she straddles the bike in front of me. This is about more than just trying to prove a point. I need the physical contact to assure myself that both of us are here and this is really happening.
I give her a deep and searching kiss. Her body stays stiff for about a second as she puts up a token resistance, but it doesn’t take long before she melts into me. My lips tease out a response from her, deepening the kiss until her arms wrap tightly around my neck.
When I finally pull away, Evangeline drags the back of her hand across her face in a futile attempt to hide her tears. Her voice is still choked up when she murmurs, “nice to see you too, Van Koch.”
I kiss her again, just because I can. “You ready?”
“Hard to be ready when you won’t tell me where we’re going.” Gigi accepts the helmet I offer her and settles in behind me with a grumble. “Especially when you threatened to break down my suite door if I didn’t get out here in the next ten minutes.”
Like I said, my text was succinct and to the point. “I’m glad you spared us both the embarrassment.”
“Like you’ve ever been embarrassed in your life. You have to care about what anyone thinks for that.”
“True.” I secure my own helmet and shift the Ducati into drive. “Hold on.”
“Where are we going?” she shouts, words whipping away on the night air.
“To where it all began.”
Gigi doesn’t say anything else as I take us through the gates of St. Bart’s and out onto the road. Her arms tighten in reaction when I take a sharp turn onto the unpaved service trail.
She remembers.
There are no lights out here. Darkness is endless, with only the headlight to illuminate our path and I slow down to keep us from colliding with anything. But even at a lower speed, the bike’s tires eat up the light from the headlamp until it feels like we’re plunging into the dark. This might be reckless, if I hadn’t driven on this road a dozen times before.
She shouts something, but I can’t hear it over the sound of the engine. I’m guessing it was a threat to hurt me if I get us into a crash.
I don’t have to look to know she is glaring at the back of my head.
