Chapter 19 #2
My gaze drifted to the clock on my laptop.
Keaton still had a few more hours at work.
I thought about texting him, but decided against it.
He was busy working. I didn’t want to be that guy, especially since we were trying to keep whatever was happening between us from becoming obvious.
So I closed the laptop, stood up, and paced my room instead.
Then I spotted the extra helmet sitting on the shelf, and a slow grin spread across my face.
I had an idea.
A little after one-thirty, I grabbed the spare helmet from the closet and the backpack I put a few things in and strapped them to the back of the bike before heading out.
The streets were mostly empty by then, with Sacramento mainly settled except for the bars and the late-night traffic still lingering around Midtown. I parked a little ways down from The Golden Tavern instead of right in front and killed the engine.
Then I waited.
A few people stepped out, laughing loudly and dragging their feet toward the lot. A guy in a Giants cap paused to light a cigarette and looked at my bike for a second before wandering off. A couple of minutes later, the front door opened again, and Keaton came out, holding his keys.
He locked the door, turned around, and paused. For a moment, he simply stared at me. Then his gaze flicked to the bike, the extra helmet, and back to my face. “What are you doing here?”
I pushed off the bike. “Picking you up.”
“At almost two in the morning?”
“You done closing?”
He slipped his keys into his pocket. “Yeah.”
“Sounds like perfect timing then.”
His mouth twitched, but he still seemed somewhat suspicious. “You really brought a second helmet?”
“I did.”
He walked closer. “Where are we going?”
“You’ll see.”
“That’s not an answer.”
“It’s the only one you’re going to get.”
He exhaled a breath that was somewhere between a laugh and a warning. “You’re a pain in the ass.”
I held out the helmet. “Get on the bike, Keaton.”
His eyes stayed on mine for another second before he took it. “This is either a very good idea or a terrible one.”
I grinned and put the backpack on. “Probably both.”
That finally brought a real smile to his face. He tugged on his helmet, zipped his hoodie halfway, and climbed on behind me. The second his hands settled on my waist, every nerve in my body lit up.
I started the bike and pulled onto the street.
At first, he didn’t say anything, just stayed close as we moved through downtown and past the last few places still open. Then I headed toward the river and turned onto Garden Highway, where the road widened, and the city finally began to feel far away.
Keaton moved in closer so I could hear him. “You’re really not going to tell me where we’re going?”
“Nope.”
“You’re enjoying this way too much.”
“Maybe.”
His hands tightened at my waist. “Asshole.”
I laughed and kept going until I found the small turnout by the river where we’d come when we were sneaking around in high school. No one else was parked there, so when I turned off the engine, everything went still around us all at once.
He climbed off first and took off his helmet, running a hand through his hair. “Okay,” he said, scanning the area. “We’ve been here before.”
I took off my helmet and grinned. “That’s kind of why I picked it.”
His eyes narrowed. “So this was on purpose.”
I reached into my small backpack and pulled out a blanket.
He glanced at it. “And you brought a blanket?”
“You want to keep standing in a gravel turnout, or do you want to sit down?”
His mouth twitched. “You’re really committed to this.”
“Yeah.” I shook out the blanket and spread it over a patch of grass a few feet from the bike. “Come here.”
He came over, and I sank down first, stretching my legs out. After a moment, he sat beside me, close enough that our thighs touched. The river flowed past us, dark and steady, and with the road behind us empty, it felt like the whole city had pulled back for a minute.
He faced the water for a second, then turned back to me. “You want to tell me why you really brought me out here at two in the morning?”
I rested back on my hands. “Because I heard you. About not wanting to rush this. About not wanting people clocking it because we hooked up. So I figured I’d do it your way and give us some privacy.”
His eyes lingered on mine for a moment. “I do like you sneaking into my bed, though.”
I chuckled. “Well, that’s not going to change.”
“Good.”
For a second, neither of us said anything. He stayed close, his thigh still pressed to mine, and I loved being able to be this close to him again.
Then I exhaled. “Devon talked to me.”
His expression changed immediately. “He wants you in LA.”
“You knew?”
“He mentioned it yesterday.”
“You could’ve told me.”
“And ruin your dramatic office moment?” He shook his head. “No chance.”
I snorted. “He said he wants us because we earned it.”
“We did.”
For a minute we just sat there, with the river in front of us and the bike cooling off behind us. Then Keaton turned more fully toward me.
“So,” he said, “what else happened today?”
I frowned. “What do you mean?”
“You don’t drive to my work after hours with a spare helmet and a whole secret river setup just because Devon picked you for LA.” He looked at me. “Something else get under your skin.”
I blew out a breath. “I spent part of the evening looking for a job.”
“And?”
“And it sucked.” I rubbed my hand over my jaw. “Security jobs, warehouse work, random retail listings—stuff I could probably do but don’t want to. I stared at the screen for two hours and wanted to throw my laptop across the room.”
“That bad?”
“That bad.”
“What are you looking for?”
“Something that works with training hours.” I glanced down at the blanket. “Something that doesn’t make me miserable five minutes in.”
“That narrows it down.”
“I’m serious.”
“So am I.” He shifted a little closer. “What do you actually want?”
I stared out toward the river. “I don’t know yet. I know what I don’t want.”
“Which is?”
“Anything that feels like I’m just killing time until I can get back to the gym.”
He nodded slowly. “That makes sense.”
“Does it? Because right now it feels like I’m supposed to magically know how to build a life here while I’m trying to get ready for LA and not screw this up with you at the same time.” I chuckled. “That sounded more dramatic out loud than it did in my head.”
“No,” he answered. “It sounded like you’re being honest about how you feel.”
“I am.”
He pulled one knee up and rested his arm on it. “You don’t have to figure all of it out tonight.”
“I know.”
“You really don’t.”
I stared at him. “You always this reasonable after midnight?”
“No. I’m just not trying to bullshit you.” He reached over and hooked a finger into the sleeve of my jacket. “You’ve been back, what, a few weeks?”
“Something like that.”
“And during that time, you moved into a house with strangers—and me—were thrown into training here, worked your way back into fighting shape, and got picked for a fight in LA.” He tilted his head. “Maybe give yourself a minute before you decide you’re failing at life.”
I moved closer until our legs pressed together and took his hand. “You know, for a guy I came out here to make out with, you’re kind of talking a lot.”
“Then kiss me.”
I leaned in and did just that. It started slowly, gentle enough that I could feel him smile into it for half a second before he kissed me back properly. His hand moved to my face, fingers warm on my jaw, and the rest of the noise in my head disappeared instantly.
When I pulled back, he was still close enough that our noses nearly touched. “I missed this,” I said.
His thumb moved against my jaw. “You had me twice this morning.”
“You know that’s not what I meant.”
“I know.”
I kissed him again because he was making it impossible not to, and this time he let go of my hand just long enough to slide both of his hands to my waist and pull me closer.
The blanket shifted under us. I caught myself with one hand and ended up half over him, which only made him laugh against my mouth.
“You’re real smooth,” he teased.
“Shut up.”
We stayed like that for a minute, his hands still on me, my knee between his. Then Keaton let out a breath and rested his head lightly against my shoulder.
I slid an arm around him and held him there. “You tired?” I asked.
“Yeah.”
“Bad shift?”
“Long shift. Not bad, though.”
I rubbed my hand over his back. “You hungry?”
He tipped his head back enough to look at me. “Did you bring food too?”
I grimaced. “No. I thought the blanket was enough before you started calling this a date.”
“It is a date.”
I barked out a laugh. “You just wanted to say that.”
“A little.”
I shook my head, still smiling. “I can grab some burgers on the way back after I drop you off at your car.”
“Perfect.” His hand slid to the front of my shirt. “But I like this part first.”
He kissed me again, slower this time—calmer, not frantic, not desperate—just warm and intimate, enough to make me forget once more that we weren’t alone in the world, just hidden from it for a moment.
When we broke apart, he kept his forehead against mine. “You can’t start picking me up from work every night.”
“Why not?”
“Because I’ll get used to it.”
I glanced at him for a moment, then gently touched his face. “Maybe that wouldn’t be the worst thing.”
“Maybe.”
We sat there a bit before I stood up and offered my hand. “Come on.”
He took it, let me help him up off the blanket, then watched as I shook it out and folded it. He put on the helmet and climbed behind me, and when his arms wrapped around my waist again, it felt even better than the first time.