Chapter 16
SYDNEY
I stand in front of the door, nerves suddenly seizing all of my movements.
“Are you going to let the poor lad stand out there all night?” I jump at my mother’s voice and glance over my shoulder. She gives me a reassuring smile and motions for me to move forward. “Go. Have fun. Just be in the moment.”
I face the door and take a solidifying breath. Only for it to stall in my chest when I see the man on the other side.
His dark eyes rake over me and I shift on my feet. I look down at my boots, dark jeans, and light pink drop shoulder knit sweater. “Is this okay?”
“Perfect,” he whispers before quickly clearing his throat. His eyes meet mine. “You look absolutely beautiful.”
I do a slow perusal of my own. He’s wearing his signature dark boots, black jeans, a dark button up, and his leather motorcycle jacket. He’s every bit of my bad boy fantasy come to life.
“Not too bad yourself, Moore.”
He huffs a laugh and motions over his shoulder. “Shall we?”
I quickly shut the door and we walk side by side down the walkway towards the street.
“So, where are we going?”
“Well, that’s for me to know and for you to dot dot dot.”
I stop dead in my tracks. “Did you just quote The Vampire Diaries to me?” I yell at his retreating back.
“Are you coming or not, sunshine?”
I jog after him. “How do you know about that show?”
“I think a lot of people know about that show.”
“Uh, yeah, female people.”
He quirks a brow. “Are you saying I can’t like a show about hunky vampires vying over the same girl multiple lifetimes in a row because I’m not a girl?” Did he just say ‘hunky vampires’ with a straight face?
My mouth opens and closes, words sputtering out of me. “What? No! I’m just… I’m shocked because you’re, well, you. I didn’t think a teenage drama like that would be your kind of thing.”
“It’s not.”
My head jerks back in confusion as we stop outside his garage. “Then how—”
“You used to play that show all the time. Would get so wrapped up in it that I’m sure you wouldn’t have even looked away if a whole damned circus strutted through your living room.”
I fold my arms over my chest. “It’s a comfort show.”
“And mine is New Girl.”
My jaw drops and eyes widen. “What?” I yell.
He gives me a serious look. “If you tell anyone—”
“I want to tell everyone!”
“Sydney,” he growls.
“Okay. Okay. Your secret is safe with me.” I smile up at him.
He sighs. “Go ahead and ask. I know you’re dying to.”
“Why New Girl out of any show? Seriously, I wouldn’t have been able to predict that one.”
He shrugs. “It’s funny.”
I jut my chin forward, waiting for him to say more, but he doesn’t. I purse my lips and nod. “Okay, that’s fair.”
“Why is The Vampire Diaries yours?”
“First off, it’s one of my comfort shows. I have a different one for different moods. This one is my ‘I don’t feel like getting out of bed’ show. A feel good but with lots of drama.”
“What are some of the others?”
I shake my head. “Now, I can’t go giving away all my secrets.”
“They’re safe with me,” he whispers.
My face drops and I reach out, placing my hand on his arm. “I know.”
The corner of his lips twitch. “So you have two options.”
“And those would be?”
“We can take one of the cars, or I was thinking that since it is a bit warmer out tonight, we could take—”
“The bike?” I screech and he laughs.
“I’m guessing that’s your answer then?”
“Hell yes! You never let me get on that thing and I’ve been begging for years.”
He chokes on air but quickly straightens and walks into the garage. My mouth drops open when he walks back towards me and holds out a pink, full face helmet and a pink motorcycle jacket.
“I hope the jacket fits, I had to guess the size.”
“But not the helmet?”
He smirks. “I just got the biggest one they had.” I bark out a laugh and backhand his stomach, swallowing at the tight muscles I know are there.
Shaking my head, I slip my arms into the jacket. My breath catches in my throat when he steps so close, I can feel the heat radiating off of him. When his fingers brush the side of my neck, my pulse skyrockets and my lips part.
I stare up at him as he gently pulls my hair out from under the jacket and zips it up, his thumb lightly tipping my chin up higher. His eyes dance between mine and I sway towards him at the intensity in their dark depths.
“Like I said. Perfect.” His voice is low and rough, almost like he didn’t mean to say the words but they forced their way out anyway.
“Thank you,” I say, barely above a whisper. “I love it.”
He nods, his eyes coasting over my face one last time before he takes a step back and holds up the helmet. “Do you know how to secure one of these?”
“Honeslty, I haven’t worn a helmet like that since Jace’s twelfth birthday when we all went go-karting. And even then, it was all wonky.”
He chuckles. “I remember that day.”
“I wish you didn’t.”
“What? Why?”
“Because I was horrible!”
“You were not that bad.”
“I drove in the wrong direction half the time and ran right into you. I could have killed you!”
His face breaks into a gorgeous smile that he reserves just for me. At least that’s what I tell myself.
“You weren’t going more than a few kilometers an hour. Your parents made sure they topped you off at a low speed before strapping their eight-year-old into it. You couldn’t have harmed me even if you tried.”
I shake my head, smiling. “To answer your original question, I might need a little refresher on how to make sure it won’t fly off my head.”
He huffs a laugh. “Okay, sunshine. Come here.”
I step forward without hesitation and something flashes in his eyes, but it’s gone before I can decipher exactly what it was. He has me hold the helmet and for a moment I’m confused but then he produces a single hair tie and circles around behind me.
“So your hair doesn’t get all wind blown,” he says lowly.
“Oh.” I swallow, suppressing the shivers when his fingers comb through my hair.
He expertly finishes the braid and I can’t help but run my hand over it. “I can’t believe you still remember how to braid hair.”
“How could I forget? For your tenth birthday, all you asked for was this hair jewel machine. Jace came over crying all the time that his fingers would fall off because you wouldn’t stop asking him to braid the color strands into your hair.”
“So you told him that it couldn’t be that bad.”
“And it wasn’t. Until your fishtail braid obsession.”
I throw my head back, laughing. “Oh my god, I totally forgot about that.”
“Well I didn’t. When we weren’t training for our next race or doing school work, me and Jace were watching tutorials on how to do it.”
“Is that why his hair grew out so long that year?”
He shrugs. “Who else were we going to practice on?”
I stare at him with bright eyes. “I can’t believe you guys did all of that for me.”
“We’d do anything for you, Syd. Always.” I tuck my lips and dip my head to hide my growing blush. “Come on, we better leg it so we’re not late.”
After securing my helmet, he tosses on his own and backs his bike out of the garage. I take his offered arm and hop onto the back, my legs on either side of his as we straddle the seat.
“Keep your hands here for when I’m slowing down,” he says through the intercom system in our helmets and presses my hands against the gas tank.
“What about when you speed up?”
His back brushes my chest with his deep inhale and he slowly brings my hands to his abdomen. “You can hold me here any other time, but remember to brace on the tank when I’m braking, okay?”
My hum is cut off with a squeal when the bike roars to life, a laugh bursting out of me with the vibrations it sends through my whole body.
“Ready?” he asks, humor in his voice.
“Abso-fucking-lutely!” I tighten my arms around his waist and resist wiggling in my seat.
Within the first street we zoom down, I’m hooked. Not only to the feel of the bike under me and how close I am to the one man I’ve always wanted but could never have, but to the absolute freedom you feel racing down the open road. It’s almost like I’m flying.
Everything around you is a blur of streaks with the only thing grounding you being the powerful machine beneath you.
It’s intoxicating.
Breathtaking.
Addicting.
And I never want it to end.
Unfortunately, it does, twenty minutes later when he pulls up outside a small art gallery.
He helps me off the bike and sets our helmets on the mirrors. He catches my eye, hesitating a moment before he holds out his hand. With a smile, I entwine my pink-tipped fingers with his and he leads me to the door.
“Where are we?” I ask, glancing around.
“You’ll see.”
He opens the door and I playfully curtsy before striding into the warm, low light of the gallery. My eyes roam over the various art pieces and the couples drifting around the room. I catch some of their stares lingering on us, but ignore the exposed feeling. This is why we are here, right?
Lawson steps up to my side and I look up at him, noting the slight tension in his handsome face. Is he just as nervous as I am?
“This place is owned by some old friends of my mum. One’s an artist and the other is a chef, so they opened this place.”
I look over the space again, noticing a small indoor garden towards the back where tables are lit by candles and twinkling string lights. “Are the artists they work with all local?”
He nods. “And every so often, they have big showcases where curators from around the world come for the chance to discover the next big artist.”
“That’s incredible.”
“I wish I could introduce you to them, but tonight is one of the few nights a year that they actually take off and do something just for them.”
“As they should.” I smirk, looking up at him.
He juts his chin to the side and gently intertwines our fingers. “Let’s start over here. Our reservation isn’t for another thirty minutes or so.”
“Okay,” I whisper and let him guide me.
We spend the next few minutes admiring the artwork and he lets me ramble about what my interpretations are.
It’s something I’ve loved to do since I was a little girl. I’d see a picture or painting or even real life strangers on the street and make up these elaborate stories about what their lives are like and what got them there.
It’s the dreamer in me, I guess.
Other people used to make fun of me for it, but never Lawson. No, he would be right there with me, throwing in one ridiculous plot twist after the other.
Slowly I stopped telling my stories when I was around other people—wanting to keep it as something just for me and him.
He’s never judged me or made me feel silly about the way I want to see the world. And it’s one of the many things that’s made not only my heart, but also my mind feel safe with him.
I have yet to find that with anyone else. And, to be honest… I don’t think I ever will.
“Do you come here often?” I ask as we round the corner for the last wall of artwork.
“Not as often as I’d like, but I try to have dinner with Michelle and Vincent—those are the owners—once a month.”
“That’s amazing.”
“Maybe you can join me next time?”
I stop walking. “You’d want me to?”
“Yeah,” he whispers. “Plus, Michelle has been dying to meet you for forever.”
I smirk. “Talking about me, darkling? Careful or someone might think you’re a bit obsessed.”
He chuckles and shakes his head, but I sense his unease creeping back in as we get to the last few pieces of art. I open my mouth to ask if he’s okay, but the words die on my lips when the first picture comes into view.
I glance along the wall and it’s clear they’re all done by the same person. Each one is a black and white ink sketch of nondescript locations. I take my time with each one, feeling drawn to the stark lines and contrast. Lawson is quiet as I move from one to the next.
By the fourth piece, recognition starts to knock on my subconscious. But it isn’t until I stop at the last one that I realize what’s been screaming at me since the first.
I drop Lawson’s hand and walk closer to the drawing of… me.
I’m dancing around the living room, my hair flying around me as I move. My head is thrown back, my eyes closed and mouth open as I sing along to whatever song I no doubt had blaring through the speakers.
Turning to Lawson, tears sting the back of my eyes and I suck in a breath. He watches me with soft eyes, his hands burrowed into his pockets.
“You did these?” He nods, his gaze shifting over my face. I turn back to the eight pieces hanging in a row. “They’re amazing. You’re amazing.” The last part comes out as a whisper and I walk back to the first drawing, taking them in with fresh eyes.
And then it clicks.
“It’s the story of us.” His low voice sends goosebumps over my skin.
It is.
The curb I first saw him sitting on.
The playground where he beat up the older kid who always made fun of my tutu.
The garage at Miller Racing where I would hang out with him and Jace after school while they trained.
A butterfly that at first looks like it’s flying at night, but I now recognize the stars as the freckles on my shoulder.
And so on, more and more places that I once forgot but will always remember and cherish from this day forward. Moments I never would have thought meant anything but now hold the most important parts of me. Of him.
When I reach the end, I turn around to face him and suck in a breath.
He stands there holding a slim white box with a pink bow wrapped around it.
Picking up the box, I gently open the top. Nestled inside is a rose gold bracelet with various charms glinting in the soft glow of the gallery lights.
Silently, he steps closer and slides his hand over my left forearm. He lifts it up and pulls out the bracelet. I hold my breath as his fingers brush my skin when he secures it around my wrist.
There’s a flash to the side of us but nothing could tear me away from this moment. From him.
I lift it up, getting a closer look at the charms and my chest caves in as a wave of emotions threatens to take me under.
They’re reflections of his drawings with some added in between.
“It’s us. Every moment, big or small, that led us to be here. I know this might not be real, but I want you to know that no matter what, I’m always here for you. I’ve always been here for you,” he whispers.
I drop my hand and look up at him, tears shining in my eyes. “It’s perfect.” You’re perfect.
He smiles softly at me and I dart forward, wrapping my arms around his waist. He holds me to his chest and I close my eyes when I feel his head dip down to rest on top of mine.
“Happy Valentine’s Day, sunshine,” he says into my hair.
I hold him tighter, burrowing my face in his shirt as the weight of tonight falls on my heart. And as the realization that agreeing to this arrangement was either going to make me… or completely shatter me.