Chapter Twenty-Two
Lexi
“You sure you don’t want to ride with us?” Finn asks me for what must be the millionth time after school on Wednesday.
“Sorry, guys, but I’ve fallen in love with Brock’s bike and I don’t think I could ever go back to just a plain old van.”
They all frown at one another, then Theo shrugs. “Guess we can’t blame her. The ladies love men on bikes.”
“You mean, they love to ride behind men on bikes,” Finn corrects.
Theo’s brows scrunch. “Isn’t that what I just said?”
“Brock can hitch a ride with us every day, too,” Gael suggests. “No more bike. Problem solved.”
“Never,” Brock says at the same exact time I say, “No way.”
“Well, the queen has spoken.” Dean raises his shoulders. “We must obey her command. Just let us know when you want to ride with us lowly peasants again.”
“Haha.”
We wish each other goodbye, and they head to one end of the student parking lot while Brock and I make our way to the other end. There are only a handful of bikes here, but I can easily spot Brock’s.
“Do you have a lot of homework today?” Brock asks when we stand before it. “Maybe we can hang out and watch that new teen superhero movie that came out.”
I raise my brows. “Did Brock Hastings just offer to watch a superhero movie?”
He laughs. “I don’t hate superhero movies. I’m willing to give another one a shot, since the last one sucked so bad.”
That’s so tempting, but unfortunately…
“I have a super hard psychology test on Friday,” I say with a scowl. “I need to study, study, study.”
“Oh. Well, school should always come first.”
I scoff as I put on my helmet and do the clasp. “Only because I want to get good grades so I could get into a good marine biology program.”
Once we’re both secured on the bike and I’m squeezing his waist, we zoom off. He takes a longer route than usual to my house just so I can enjoy the ride. His Uncle Zack did that for his aunt, and it makes me feel very special that he’s doing the same for me.
But the more you enjoy something, the faster it comes to an end. We reach my house way too soon.
“Thanks,” I say as I dismount and take off my helmet. “I would invite you in for a quick snack or something, but I really need to study.”
He waves his hand. “That’s okay. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Bye. Have a good night, Brock.”
“Thanks. You, too.” He’s about to rev the engine, but then he glances at me. “Hey, do you want to see something cool?”
“Sure.”
“Okay, step back. I don’t want you to get hurt.”
I gape at him. “What? Are you going to do something dangerous?”
“No, not at all. But just in case, I don’t want you anywhere near here.”
I have no idea what he has planned, but I climb up the stairs leading to my house. Once Brock is sure I’m safely away from the bike, he revs the engine and circles around the perimeter, gaining speed with each passing second.
“Woohoo!” I cheer. “Nice, Brock!”
My words filling him with encouragement, he goes even faster.
“Wait, Brock, slow down—”
“Want to see something even cooler?” he calls.
“No, I think you should slow down—”
He raises his left hand off the handlebar, slowly and hesitantly at first. Then he stretches his arm as far as he can.
“One hand, Lexi!” he says.
“That’s really cool. But I think you should hold on with both hands,” I call back.
“I’m handling it just fine—”
The bike veers sideways and then topples over. Right on top of him.
“Brock!” I race down the stairs and jet over to him. I heave the bike off him as he pushes it away. Darn, the thing is heavy. But we manage to get it off him.
“Brock, are you okay?” I drop down to my knees and help him sit up. He pulls off his helmet. His face is red, but I don’t see any blood. “Do you think you broke any bones? Can you stand?”
“No, I didn’t break any bones. I’m okay, thanks.”
“Not dangerous, my butt. You scared the crap out of me.” I shove his shoulder. “Don’t you ever do anything like that again.”
When I slide my hand into his to help him up, I feel something wet. Brock hisses out in pain. My hand breaks away from his, and that’s when I see the blood all over his hand and shirt.
“You’re bleeding?! Where?”
He raises his left hand and gapes at it. There’s a large gash right in the center of his palm, and blood is pouring out and dripping all over his clothes and the ground.
“Should I call an ambulance?” I frantically search my pockets for my phone. Where the heck is it when I need it most?
“No, I don’t need an ambulance.” He puts his hand on me, accidentally getting blood on my hand. He quickly yanks it away. “Sorry.”
“Are you sure you don’t want to go to the hospital? You’re losing a lot of blood.”
He looks down at his hand with a haunted look. “This isn’t that much blood. Believe me.”
I just stare at him, not sure what to say. He’s obviously thinking about Andy’s accident.
He shakes his head. “I mean, it looks like a scratch.”
I give him a face. “That’s more than a scratch.”
“Maybe, but it’s not deep enough for stitches. Do you have a first aid kit at your house?”
“My mom’s a nurse, so that would be a duh.”
He laughs lightly. “Right. Duh.”
“I still think you should go to the hospital,” I mutter as I heave his arm around my shoulder and get him up.
“I’m thankful that you care, but the last thing I need is people thinking I tried to hurt myself.”
I guess I hadn’t considered that. His parents would totally freak if he went to the hospital. But what if he really needs to go? I want to do the right thing.
“We’ll make a deal,” I tell him. “I know a thing or two about first aid. I’ll help clean the wound, and if I think you need to go to the hospital, you’re going to the hospital.”
He groans, squeezing his eyes shut. Then he reluctantly nods.
I help him into the house and to the bathroom, sitting him down on the closed toilet. Then I reach for the first aid kit.
“Have you ever done that before?” I ask as I open it and rummage through the items. “Ride your bike with only one hand?”
With a sigh, he shakes his head.
“I don’t want to lecture you like I’m your parent or teacher, but that was so dangerous, Brock. You could have really hurt yourself.”
“I know. It was stupid. I was just…”
I pause and glance at him. “You were just what?”
He shakes his head. “Nothing. It was just stupid.”
I get started on cleaning the wound. I’m standing very close to him, mere centimeters, and I feel his soft breath on my skin. And the heat radiating off his body. When I gently wipe the blood away, tingles travel down my spine.
Brock hisses. “Darn, that hurts.”
“Sorry.”
“No, not your fault. Like I said, I was an idiot.”
“You were.” I thump his forehead with the heel of my palm.
“I deserve it.”
“You can say that again,” I say as I thump him again.
“I deserve it,” he repeats.
Once all the blood is gone, I sigh in relief. The cut isn’t deep at all and I don’t think he needs to go to the hospital. I finish off with putting on a bandage across his palm.
“You think it’ll leave a scar?” he asks.
I roll my eyes. “Boys.”
Even though his hand is covered in dry blood, he takes my hand in his, which is also covered in his blood. “Lexi, I’m really sorry for scaring you. I wasn’t thinking.”
I want to yell at him that he should know better than anyone about vehicle safety. Things could have been so much worse and I could have experienced what he did four years ago. But the last thing he needs is for me to reprimand him like I’m his mom. I can tell from the freaked look on his face that he understands how badly he messed up.
“Just promise you won’t do it again?” I whisper.
He nods with a sincere expression. “I swear. And to prove it to you, I’ll ground myself and not ride my bike for a whole month.”
“Whoa, don’t exaggerate. Why should your bike suffer? And more importantly—me.”
That makes him chuckle in surprise.
“But seriously, Brock.” I grab the back of his neck and look closely into his eyes. “Never again. Please,” I beg.
His eyes are wide with even more sincerity. “I promise.” He curses under his breath. “I promised my grandparents I would be responsible. I’m such an idiot.”
“Look, we all make mistakes,” I say. “We should be thankful you weren’t hurt more severely. Let’s learn from this and move on. Okay?”
He nods as he stands and closes me in his arms, resting his chin on top of my head. “Definitely.”
He helps me clean up. Once we’re done with the bathroom, we wash away the blood on the street before my house because I don’t want my mom or the neighbors or random passersby to think someone in my house committed a murder. Thankfully, no one passes as we do it. Because I have no idea how we would explain it.
“Why do I feel like we’re covering up a crime scene?” he asks.
I know I shouldn’t, but I laugh. “I was thinking the same thing.”
Brock chuckles.
With a groan, I shove his shoulder. “This isn’t funny.”
“It kind of is. Come on, we’ll look back at this in a few months and laugh. Not the part where I almost got hurt badly,” he clarifies. “But the washing away my blood.”
I shake my head as I try to hide my smile. “Why do I always have fun with you even when I’m not supposed to?”
He raises his shoulders. “It’s a gift?” He glances down at his bloody clothes. “I should get home and clean my clothes before my parents come home. Lexi, I’m sorry again for scaring you. I’ll never, ever, do it again.”
I bend forward and lay a sweet kiss on his cheek. “I forgive you.”