Page 49 of Death, Interrupted
“It gets hot when we start moving. Keep your feet on the pegs.”
“Okay. Where do I put my hands?”
“Around my waist. Hold tight.”
I leaned forward and wrapped my arms around him, gripping firmly. “Like this?”
“Perfect. Once we’re moving, I probably won’t hear you. If you need me to stop, tap me twice.”
I made a mental note. “Got it. Anything else?”
He turned his head just enough to put his eyes on me. “Move with me. When I lean, you lean. Only adjust when I stop.”
“Okay, understood,” I said.
“Good. Then let’s go.” He pressed a quick kiss to the visor, and I smiled at the smallgesture.
Each time he did something small like that, I felt myself ease a little more around him. He never crowded me but still found quiet ways to show me what affection felt like.
My heart hammered in my chest when he started the motor, and I instinctively hugged him tighter, worried I might slip once we were moving. But as soon as he eased April onto the road, the nerves settled a little. He kept one hand on my leg at first, tapping it gently, as if to remind me he was there and to make everything easier. The ride was smooth, and I realized I’d never felt anything quite like this driving down Main Street, with the wind rushing past, and every sense alive in an unexpected way.
I caught myself grinning under the helmet, glad nobody could see how ridiculous I looked. Riding on a bike felt completely different. It was thrilling, and I wanted to experience it over and over.
When he slowed at a red light, my body shifted too far forward, and my helmet bumped the back of his head.
“Oh my god, I’m sorry!” I exclaimed, slapping a hand over the visor and then cupping the back of his head. “Are you hurt?”
He turned, letting out a soft laugh. “I’m fine, baby. Try putting your hands on the tank next time. It’ll stop you from leaning forward.”
“Okay, I’ll remember that,” I said, gently rubbing the spot where I’d hit him. “Are you sure it doesn’t hurt?”
“I’m okay,” he said, tilting his head slightly to press another kiss against the visor. “Really. Don’t worry about me.”
I smiled and relaxed again, letting myself settle into the ride as he continued down the street, keeping the bike steady and smooth.
As much respect as I still had for this bike, I wished he’d drive faster. And maybe never stop. I could see us just keep on driving, leaving everything in this town behind, and start over in a place where nothing had been stained with pain before.
***
I wasn’t usually indecisive, but everything on the menu looked good and I kept changing my mind. I could feel the waitress getting impatient, and when I looked up, she said, “I can come back.”
“No, no. I’ll…I’ll have the blueberry pancakes, please.” The words came out too fast. I could feel my face heating at what should’ve been a normal interaction.
She started to write it down, and I immediately second-guessed myself. “Actually…may I have the French toast instead?” I forced a smile that probably wasn’t convincing.
The waitress raised a brow. For a second, I wondered why anyone would work in service if being around people rubbed them the wrong way, but then I reminded myself that everyone had bad days. I didn’t take it personally.
“Sorry,” I added.
“What is it now?” she asked bluntly.
“The French toast. And a peppermint tea, please.” I said it firmer this time, so there was no mistake.
She wrote it down and glanced at Sly. “For you, sir?”
“The blueberry pancakes and a black coffee. Thank you.” He answered without looking phased.
When she left, I gave him a tight smile. My stomach still did a small twist from that exchange. He noticed the way I’d tightened, the way I wasn’t breathing right. He leaned back in his chair and said, “Unhappy people tend to take it out on others.”