Eight
N o. No no no no no—
I rush back to the elevators, Krystal on my heels. I punch the button to go down, and when the doors don’t immediately open, I punch down on it again. And again.
“We’re not gonna make it in time.” The doors slide open, as if to defy me. “What am I gonna do? This the only plan I have.” More than that, the mural was the only plan I had my heart set on. So what if it wasn’t perfect yet? I still had time to figure it out. Now I have nothing.
“It’s okay, we’ll figure it out,” Krystal says, rubbing circles on my back to calm me. But it has almost the opposite effect, clouding my focus, every nerve ending in my body trained on that one spot where she’s touching me.
Now is not the time.
“We can get there faster if we rent the bikes from the BCycle. They had some right outside the lobby.”
“Okay, good idea.” I haven’t ridden in years, but what’s that saying about never forgetting how to ride a bike? “Let’s go.”
The sun is oppressive when we get outside. I take off her flannel, tying it around my waist and promise Krystal to return it to her once we reach the mural. When she comes back with two bikes, we speed off down the street. Or Krystal does at least. I’m having a hard time adjusting my feet on the pedals, heart pounding so hard it’s the only sound filling my ears. Once I get a good footing, I’m able to catch up to Krystal just before she turns down a side street. Her head turns over her shoulder, making sure I’m still behind her.
“You good?” she calls out. I’m still farther behind her than I should be.
“Yeah!” I pedal harder, gaining speed. She makes another turn. I try to follow, but it feels like I’m stuck on something.
What the hell?
As I glance down, the front wheel drops onto the street. Before I lose my balance and topple off, I force myself to stop with my left foot on the pavement. As I’m bringing the bike back onto the sidewalk, a car horn blares behind me, startling me out of my wits. I tip over, the bike falling on top of me until I’m nothing but a jumbled heap on the sidewalk.
Fuck.
A shock of pain ignites my shoulder when I hit the ground, and then again as the bike hits my knee. Someone calls my name, but I’m too disoriented to make out the sound. The bike is lifted off me, and then hands untie the flannel at my waist. I open my eyes as Krystal’s arms circle my waist as she pulls me off the ground and settles me to a standing position. Behind her, there’s a dark ring of water on the side of the building where the mural once was. A trail of purple-tinged water is the only thing left of the painting, droplets running down the brick.
We’re too late—not that we would’ve been able to stop them anyway. Suddenly, this mad dash to the portrait all feels so pointless.
“I shouldn’t have given you this stupid thing.” She’s bent over the bike, and that’s when I notice the sleeve of her flannel caught in the front wheel. That’s what I got stuck on. “Angela, are you okay?”
Her question snaps reason back into my brain. I stretch my arms above my head and wince. White-hot pain stings my left shoulder. She notices immediately and walks around to inspect the injury. “You’re bleeding through your shirt. Goddammit, Angela, you could’ve gotten yourself killed!”
I flinch from a new pain coming from my leg, knees buckling, but she gentles her tone as if it was because of her. “Where else does it hurt?”
“My knee.” I only notice the pain now that I’ve been standing on it. When I glance down, I spot the blood dripping in rivulets down my leg. “Ow, geez.” I hunch forward, leaning a hand against the building next to me to take the weight off it.
“Hey, it’s okay.” Gently, she pulls me through the alley we just rode through. “Stay here, okay? I’m gonna return your bike and then we’ll figure out how to get back.”
She uses the flannel to apply pressure to the wound before leaving with one of our bikes.
“We’re going to have to share a seat,” she explains when she returns. “I’ll mostly be standing on the pedals anyway, but we’ll have to be careful with the added weight. Try to keep your body perched forward.”
“This doesn’t sound like a good idea.” I blink up at her. It’s not hard to imagine a second fall doing me in the way the first one almost did. “Me and bikes don’t mix well, if you couldn’t tell.”
“It’ll be a longer walk back, and you can barely stand,” she says. “I’ll ride slow. I’m not gonna let you get hurt again.”
There’s a steely determination in her eyes that tells me arguing with her would be useless. With a nod and a heavy sigh, I do as she says, letting her adjust me on the seat into a more comfortable position. Once I’m seated behind her, she swings a leg over and leans back until the edge of her butt hits the seat.
“Put your arms around my waist.” After a moment of hesitation, I do as she says. “Tighter.” As I wrap my arms tighter around her middle, the warmth of her body seeps into me immediately. The side of my head rests against her back as she propels us forward. Her heartbeat rushes through the ear pressed into her back, steady and sure. A contrast to my erratic heartbeat, though from the fall or her proximity, I can’t say.
The ride back is clear and smooth, not a single bump beneath the wheels. I’m not sure how she’s doing it, but I know I’m safe with this woman. This once, when no one’s watching, I allow myself to breathe in her scent. It’s more grounding than dizzying, almost enough for me to forget the aches and pains in my body.
“Almost there,” she says. I blink against the black fabric of her tank top. Colored brick speeds past, and then the glass and steel of the Tower of the Americas fills my vision up ahead. We bypass it completely, and when I look up, I see she’s taking us straight to the parking garage.
“Did you park here too?” she asks, swinging off the bike before coming around to help me out of the seat. Her hands grip my sides, head bent down to make sure she’s putting me down on the right foot.
I shake my head. “Uber.” Downtown parking is a nightmare, but after my crash landing, I’m grateful one of us chose to brave it.
“I live ten minutes from here.” Our faces are so close, I’m eye level with the freckle at the corner of her top lip. It takes all the self-control I can muster not to stare. Even then, I don’t quite succeed. “I can stop by CVS for a first aid kit and bandage you up before I take you home. Does that work for you?”
“What about lunch? I still owe you—well, now I owe you double for saving me…”
“Hey, don’t worry about it.” She shakes her head, smiling slightly down at me. It’s strained at the corners, not her usual flirtatious grin. “Here.” She takes out her key and unlocks her car. “Lie down in the back for now. I need to return the bike and then I’ll be back.”
She opens the door for me, helping me in with more care than necessary and having none of it when I try to wave her off. In her defense, I do it with a wince of my shoulder. Her hands don’t stray far past my waist, but somehow I feel her touch everywhere. I don’t realize I’ve been holding my breath until her touch recedes and she’s turning away from me, her form crossing the parking garage until she disappears behind a corner.
She isn’t gone for very long. Once she returns, she helps me settle into a comfortable position in the front seat, and then we’re off.