Page 97 of Whiskey Sour

“Good,” he says, giving me a light tap on the ass so I can step back. “Let’s get you ready.”

With too much enthusiasm, I barrel toward his bike and nearly knock it over. He just laughs at my joy and helps me put on the purple helmet he got me. It’s a little awkward to get on the actual bike, but he helps me once he’s taken a seat. He instructs me on where to put my hands and feet, and then the engine’s roaring to life.

At the last second, he flips up his visor and looks at me over his shoulder. “Whatever you do, just don’t let go, okay?”

As if I’ll ever let him go.

I nod, and he takes off. He doesn’t ease me into the ride but throws me into it at full force. Everything feels surreal and the rush of adrenaline lights me from within. My blood pounds and my mind soars, and I can only hope that I’ll feel this way for the rest of my life.

But I know I will.

Because I’ll always have Cassius.