Chapter 12
Twelve
On our ascent up the mountains, we approach a spot loaded with parked cars and people huddled in groups.
It’s called Dead Left Cliff. It’s a steep cliff-edge where kids from school like to party and hang out.
I’ve gone a few times when my friends haven’t had better suggestions of how to spend our free time.
I always thought the view was exceptional, but it’s nothing compared to the place Dax took me last night.
Dax’s shoulder bounces with a snigger. He motions to the people gathered by the side of the road. “Bunch of posers,” he yells over the air zipping past us.
“Isn’t it dangerous?” I yell back.
“More like a tourist attraction,” he says, laughing it off.
I tug my clasped hands into his stomach. “You’re not taking me somewhere more dangerous, are you?”
He coughs. “Take it easy with my gut, would ya?”
“Oops, sorry!”
“Anyway, don’t panic. Just a little further, then I’ll pull over.”
The motorcycle swerves around a few more curves and slows by a parking area, which overlooks an embankment. At a complete stop, Dax pats my clasped hands, asking, “You good, Sassy?”
I break my hands apart and peel myself off his back. “Super good.”
He chuckles. “That’s what I like to hear.”
I slide off the bike and take in the view. “Is this another one of your favorite spots?”
Dax throws a leg over the bike, reefing off his helmet. He smooths a hand over his scruffy mop of hair and shakes his head. “Nope. It just seems like a good spot for you to take over.”
“What?” I yelp.
He laughs, patting the handlebars. “Come on, admit it. You want to take the lead and drive me around.”
My heart leaps into my throat, and I remove my helmet. “Umm, no. That’s crazy.”
Dax takes my helmet, hanging it on the opposite end of the handlebars. He then digs into his jacket pocket, sliding out his pack of cigarettes.
“Wait,” I say in a wounded tone. “What about the patches?”
He winces, lowering the cigarette pack. “I dunno. You just kinda threw those at me. I need to work up to the idea.”
I frown, edging toward the motorcycle locker. “Won’t you just try one? They’ll still give you a nicotine hit.”
Dax frowns, eyeing the pack in his hand. “Not exactly the same, though, is it?”
“Please?” I tap my fingers against the top of the locker. “Won’t you try?”
Dax huffs, shoving the packet back in his pocket.
“Yay!” I squeal, clapping my hands.
Dax lifts a hand, halting my joy. “Not so fast. I want to make a deal.”
I swallow hard. “What kind of deal?”
He wiggles his eyebrows, smirking. “I’ll put on a patch if you take the bike for a spin.”
“What kind of deal is that?” I protest. “The patches are an attempt at saving your life. What you’re offering could end mine.”
Dax splutters a laugh. “Don’t be so dramatic. I’ll be right behind you.”
“Isn’t it enough that I ride with you?” I counter. “Believe me, it’s the most daredevil thing I’ve ever done.”
Dax leans an elbow on the handlebars, with one leg crossed behind the other in an irresistible James Dean kinda way. “I’m just asking you to up the ante. Can you understand why it’s difficult for me not to light up? I just don’t think a patch will be enough.”
“But it could be?”
Dax smiles in the most delicious way. “And you might just freaking love steering the bike.”
I look up at the sky, letting out a groan. “Okay, I’ll try.”
I look down as Dax pushes off the motorcycle and steps toward me. His arms wrap around me. “That’s my girl.”
My body shivers again in the good way. I cuddle my arms around him, soaking up his radiating warmth. I exhale a shaky breath and find myself smiling. “I trust you.”
We pull out of the hug, and Dax reaches to grab my helmet. When it’s in his hand, my nerves frazzle and I grab onto his arm. “No, not yet.”
He puts the helmet back and then cups my face. “What’s wrong?”
“I… I can’t.”
Dax’s smile is adorably cute as he holds the sides of my face. “Ness, I won’t leave you. I’ll sit right behind you, holding the handlebars with you. You’ll be safe, I promise. I wouldn’t do anything that puts you in harm. You trust me, right?”
I shiver, not in the good way. “Yes, I do.”
“Then we’ve got this. Okay?”
I nod, not fully committed. “Okay.”
Dax doesn’t reach for the helmet again. Instead, he moves to the locker. He slides off his jacket, flopping it onto the seat. “First, I need to show you I’m in this with you.”
When he takes out the box of nicotine patches, I’m quick to say, “If you think I’m being too pushy, you don’t have to try them. I don’t want you to do it just because I said so.”
He opens up the box, pulls out a patch and peels the sticky side. He slaps it onto his upper arm and winks.
I latch onto his hand and give it a gentle squeeze. “You’re okay with this?”
“Do you want me to throw my cigarettes off the edge of this cliff to prove it?”
“That would be a dramatic gesture. But, no, don’t litter.”
Dax’s shoulders relax, and he leans in close, meeting my lips with a kiss. I caress his cheek, molding my lips against his supple bottom lip, enjoying the taste of a smokeless kiss.
“Mmm,” Dax moans, pulling out of the kiss. “I think I could handle withdrawals without the patches if I have you around twenty-four-seven to kiss.”
My face flushes with hot pink. “Umm, ahh, well… Umm, I don’t think I can promise that level of commitment.”
Dax feigns heartache, clutching his chest and wincing. “Ugh. That cuts me deep.”
I fan my face. “Sorry. I got embarrassed.”
He rubs his neck, his eyes sparkling at me. “That’s too darn cute.”
I exhale hurriedly, looking away with extra nervousness.
“Okay, so what do you say, Vanessa?” he says, redirecting our conversation. “Ready for your first lesson?”
I twirl a piece of hair around my finger, smiling bashfully. “It feels weird when you call me Vanessa.”
“Why? It’s your name, isn’t it?”
“Yeah, but I’m used to you calling me a ridiculous nickname.”
Dax laughs. “Then why are you complaining if you don’t like being called sassy?”
“Because it reminds me that every other guy is boring and predictable. Every reckless and unpredictable thing you do makes my heart flutter.”
He hooks his thumb under my chin, lowering his voice to a gravelly tone. “Then I’d better keep driving you nuts, shouldn’t I?”
I bite into my lip, nodding as his head tilts and eyes fall shut.
His stubble grazes my cheek, making my blood pump hard in my veins.
When his lips find a sensitive spot below my earlobe, my knees weaken.
My hands slide up the material of his T-shirt, and my breathing cuts short when I feel the physique underneath.
I catch my breath, resting a hand on his broad shoulder. “Okay, I think I’m ready.”
He mumbles a laugh, tickling my neck with his warm breath. “Have your nerves gone?”
“Well and truly.”
Dax grabs his jacket and pats the motorcycle seat. “Hop in the driver’s seat.”
I throw a leg over the motorcycle as Dax pulls his leather jacket on. He hands me my helmet, and I slide it on as he snuggles behind me. As I grip the handlebars, my veins light with electricity. Being in front feels a million times different from being on the back.
“It feels heavy,” I say timidly.
He laughs, planting his hands by mine. “You’ll be okay. I’m right here with you.”
“You’re not wearing your helmet.”
“It’s okay. You’ll hear me better without it. Besides, I don’t think we’ll be getting any speed behind us today.”
My stomach flips as he talks me through where the clutch, the brake, and the gears are located. My helmeted head feels as heavy as a bowling ball, and I’m certain it’ll roll off my neck any second now.
“Did you get that?” Dax asks in a light-hearted tone.
I shake my head, overdoing it to counteract the fictional weight I’m carrying.
“Whoa. Watch out. You’ll knock me out doing that. Then you really will have to drive us home.”
I take my hands off the handlebars. “This was a mistake. I shouldn’t be doing this.”
“Hey, hey. Don’t panic,” he says gently, his hands staying fixed to the handlebars. “I promise you’ll be fine. If you just see what it’s like to move the bike, I think you’ll be much more confident riding with me. Maybe you’ll stop squeezing the life out of me.”
“I’m sorry,” I squeak, raising my shoulders to my helmeted ears. “That’s been really annoying you?”
He takes a hand off the handlebars and uses it to turn my face toward his. “Nothing you do is annoying. You’re adorable. I just want you to feel more comfortable when you’re with me. Will you just try it? Just move six feet?”
I relax my shoulders. “How could I say no to that face?”
He gives me a cheesy grin. “Handsome, ain’t it?”
I turn my head to face forward and grip the handlebars once more. “Just six feet?”
“That’ll do it.”
“Okay. How do I do it?”
“On your left, that’s the clutch. Give it a squeeze and pull it in.”
I do as instructed, and Dax pulls his arm around me to reach the center console and turns the ignition key.
“See that green light,” he points out. “That tells you the bike is on and in neutral. See the little red button on the right?”
I reach my thumb out to hover over it. “This one?”
“Yeah. Press it, and that’ll get the ignition going.”
I’m too scared to let go of the handle and stretch my thumb to press the button.
A breathy laugh pours out of Dax. “You can loosen up a bit, you know.”
“Mmm, no, I can’t.”
He taps his right hand over my hand. “This hand is on the throttle. You’ll want to give it a little turn as you ease off the clutch.”
I suck in a hesitant breath as the sweat builds under my clutch-squeezing hand. “I have to do both at once.”
“Only a little bit. You don’t want to completely let go of the clutch as you take off, and you only want to give it a little bit of gas.”
“Eep. I don’t think I can.”
“Hey, I’m right here. I won’t take my hands away.”
I swallow some of my fear. “Okay.”
I very slightly lift my fingers off the clutch, and very gradually turn the throttle. The motorcycle creeps forward inches.
“Yeah, that’s it,” Dax cheers.
I give it a little more gas and then completely take my hands off the clutch. The motorcycle lurches forward and then jerks back, stopping dead.
Dax pushes into my back, and my chest hits the center console. He laughs, keeping one hand on the handlebars as he uses his other to scoop me up.
As I lean back on him, he says, “You stalled it.”
“How did I do that?”
“You let go of the clutch. I said to ease it off.”
“I thought I did. It had started moving.”
He chuckles again. “Okay, my bad. It takes a while to fully ease off. You need some speed behind you. How about you try it again? This time don’t let go.”
I rub my sweaty palms on my thighs and place them back on the handlebars. Dax kicks the kickstand back down and turns the ignition key again. He tells me to hit the red button, and then he kicks the stand back up.
“I can go?” I ask.
An easy laugh plays out of him like music. “Yes, Sassy. Go for it.”
With some renewed confidence, I ease off the clutch, and give it a little gas. We edge forward, wobbling a little until Dax realigns the handlebars for me.
“Nice work. Now, do the opposite to bring us to a stop.”
“Here goes nothing.”
I try bringing the clutch back in, but when I hit the throttle, I turn it too hard, revving us forward again with a jerk.
“Whoa.”
Dax slides his hand over mine, regaining control of the motorcycle and helping me slow it down.
He snorts, kicking out the kickstand. “Almost.”
“What do you mean, almost. It stopped.”
He rubs my arm. “It stalled.”
“Ugh.”
“I love that you care about getting this right.”
My heart flutters. “I like doing things correctly.”
He leans around me, grinning with pride. “You’ll be a motorcycle rider in no time.”
I take my hands off the handlebars and shake out my arms. “It’s hard work, though. Will I have to do weight training for it to feel less heavy?”
“A different bike would help with that. It’s kinda like muscle memory. Once you get used to riding, you don’t even think about it anymore.”
I lean back against him. “Thanks for teaching me. I’d like to try it again, but maybe you should take me back into town. My meeting will be starting soon.”
He turns the key to the off position and then hugs his arms around my middle. “Deal.”