Page 3

The revving of an engine behind me catches my attention, prompting me to glance back over my shoulder.
Of course.
“Get on the bike Spencer,” he grits, slowing down as he pulls up beside me.
“It’s Aria now. And fuck you, I’ll walk.”
Stopping his bike, he cuts the engine, climbs off, and stomps my way, immediately closing the distance between us. When he catches up to me, his large hand grips my elbow and he pulls me backward.
“Get on the fucking bike Spencer,” he grits, glaring down at me.
The shiver rushing down my spine is a stark reminder that it’s winter, I’m outside in nothing but a t-shirt and sweatpants, and at this rate I’ll probably catch hypothermia before I make it back home. My eyes shift from him, to the bike, and back again.
“Fine,” I snap. “But only because I didn’t survive an abduction just to freeze to death on the side of the road.”
Jerking my arm from his grip I brush past him, stomp over to his bike, and swing my leg over the smooth leather seat. Unzipping his jacket as he strides toward me, he shrugs it off and holds it out in front of me, “Put it on, it’s fucking freezing.”
I contemplate fighting him, I really do, but it’s too cold to ride on a motorcycle in just a t-shirt, and he is wearing a hoodie, so it won’t hurt. Caving, I snatch it from his hands, slide my arms into the thick, cool, leather, and pull the zipper up to my chin. Like a favorite memory, his scent envelops me, filling my chest with warmth.
“And put the helmet on,” he says, handing me his helmet.
“It’s yours, I’m fine,” I reply, pushing it away.
“Helmet. Now!” he barks in a harsh tone that feels foreign coming from his lips.
Not the boy I once knew, indeed.
Sighing I snatch the helmet from his hands and slide it down over my head. “Happy?” I quip.
Reaching out, he grips the straps, secures the buckle beneath my chin, and gently tightens until it’s no longer wobbling around on my head. When his fingertips graze my skin, the soft touch makes my entire body shiver, and my breath hitch in my chest.
“Thanks,” I whisper, as he turns around and slides one leg over the seat, starting up the engine.
Taking off, we hurtle down the suburban streets at a speed that has us hitting the highway in merely moments. Like he can’t get me out of here fast enough. The winter air cuts through my clothing and the leather, making me shiver. As if feeling my discomfort, Travis reaches back with one hand, and pulls each of my arms around him until we are impossibly close. I hesitate but ultimately give in, and rest my helmeted head against his back, digging my fingertips into the warm flesh beneath his hoodie.
Holding him like this again brings on a wave of memories that I could never let go of if I tried. Memories of home. Memories of Lakeview, rooftops, sunny days, and rainy nights. But home is a place I can never return, and while he says he’s not that same boy, I’m also not that same girl.
I’m not the girl that Travis used to know. She died in Lakeview where I left her.
Pulling over, he parks in front of my three story duplex in the city, shuts off the engine, and climbs off of his bike. He reaches out to unbuckle the helmet, and as he slides it up off of my head, our eyes connect. A sudden rush of emotions hits me like a tidal wave. I feel a nagging regret that the ride wasn’t longer. Sadness that I don’t have just a few more minutes to hold onto him. A few more minutes of reliving the past. A few more minutes getting high off of what might have been.
“H-how did you know where I live?” I ask, climbing off of the bike.
“I, uh, texted Declan,” he states flatly, turning his gaze away, like he can’t stand the sight of me, and in this moment it really hurts. It hurts so fucking bad, like someone shoved a knife into my chest and now they’re twisting and turning it, hollowing out my heart.
Please just look at me.
I nod my head.
“Thank you Travis,” I whisper. “I-I’d probably be dea-“
“Stop,” he interrupts. “It was nothing.”
He’s suddenly cold, and I don’t know why it eats at me so much.
I open my mouth to tell him it wasn’t nothing, that it was everything. I want to scream that I really do wish things could be different. I want to shout, let’s run away. Then I hear the loud creak of my front door swinging open.
“Aria?”