Page 28 of King of Pain

“Maybe,” he says, smirking.

Then, I’m inspired to step out of my comfort zone.

To allow a tiny crack on my hardened shell.

I wait a beat, then sprint over into the aisles and find what I’m looking for.

“Hey, Chance!”

He looks up, “Yeah?”

“What do you say when you realize your coworker was trying to cheer you up?”

He smiles, a glimmer in his eyes. “What’s that?”

I hold up the copy ofDuran Duran’sThank Youalbum I pulled and give him a smile. It’s probably nowhere near as effortlessly charming as the ones he flashes my way, but I mean it.

“Any time, Pacini,” he says, fake wiping a tear from his eye.

The rest of the evening goes smoothly as we tackle closing duties together. The playful energy lingers between us, making the usually mundane tasks feel lighter.

After locking up, I sling my backpack over my shoulder and start the walk toward campus, bracing myself for the inevitable overthinking session. Chance’s distractions worked while we were at the shop, but now that I’m alone, the panic starts creeping back in. Was it just my imagination, or was that encounter with the priest some kind of message? I can’t shake the unease, and my senses feel heightened. I’m going to be extra alert on my way to the dorms, just in case.

“Hey,” Chance calls out, his voice cutting through the quiet night. I glance back to see him striding toward me, his helmet tucked under his arm. “I’ve noticed you always walk home. It’s getting late. You want a ride?”

I freeze, my heart jumping into my throat. Riding with Chance? On a motorcycle? That would mean sitting behind him, holding onto him, feeling the warmth of his body. The thought makes my stomach flip for reasons I’d rather not examine right now.

But then again, it would get me to my dorm faster—and behind locked doors.

Still, could I actually do this? I study Chance, his easy smile lit by the glow of the streetlamp.

“Come on,” he says. “I know you’re a big, bad football player, but I’d really feel better if you did.”

My brain screams no, but my traitorous mouth has other plans.

“I… uh… yeah, sure. That’d be great,” I manage to say, my voice sounding only a little steadier than I feel.

He grins, handing me a spare helmet from the storage compartment. “Where we going?”

Staring at the small space behind him on his bike, I swallow the lump in my throat and shift on my feet. “Uh, I’m in the dorms over by the journalism building. Do you know where that is?”

“I think I can find it. Hop on,” he says, flashing me another blinding smile.

As I slide onto the back of his bike, and secure my backpack over both shoulders. My hands hover hesitantly in the air before I finally rest them on his waist. His muscles are solid under my palms, and I try not to think about how good he smells—his usual clean and woodsy smell, but being this close, I’m also picking up something spicy I haven’t smelled on him before. Body wash maybe?

Whatever it is, it’s giving my body ideas.

Please don’t get hard. Please don’t get hard,I beg my dick.

“Hold on tight,” he says, his voice teasing.

I tighten my grip as the engine roars to life, and we speed off into the night. The wind whips past us, the streetlights blurring into streaks of color. My heart races, though I’m not sure if it’s the speed or the fact that I’m pressed against him, my arms wrapped around all that muscle.

What am I doing?

TRACK THIRTEEN

Kickstart My Heart