7. Chapter Seven
Chapter Seven
W ith her hand in mine, I lead her out the main door and into the silence of the night. The cool breeze refreshes my skin after being in the hot, stuffy bar.
“Better?” I ask, watching her face carefully. Whatever happened with her ex caused some emotional trauma.
“A thousand times. Thank you for being so understanding.” She glances down at our joined hands and slowly slides hers from mine. “Des, I don’t want you to get the wrong idea about me...” She hikes up her purse strap on her shoulder. “It’s just difficult to figure out where to start. It’s like opening an old wound that’s finally scabbing over.”
“Then please don’t feel pressured to explain until you’re ready. There isn’t any rush.”
Which is a half-truth. To be honest, I’m desperate to know anything about her. I can’t explain why this woman is so different from the others I’ve met. Instead of her attention pushing me away, it draws me in, comforting, like I’ve known her for years instead of days.
But my gut tells me that Maya will be worth the wait.
“Are you hungry? There’s a food truck over by the park,” I say.
She smiles halfway that says she’s still unsure. “I am a little hungry.”
“Well, I had a meeting during lunch, and now I’m starving. Mind if we head over there?”
Maya nods, her usual glow returning to her tan cheeks.
We cross Main Street and head down a side street to the grassy field where most community events take place. Normally the lush grass is covered with Rocosa residents, spread out on blankets or tossing frisbees. But since it’s after dark on a school night, there are only a few food truck patrons eating at the picnic tables.
As we walk, my brain registers the little things about Maya, jotting them down in my mental fact file. The way the streetlights highlight the caramel strands in her curly hair. The way she chews on her lower lip when she thinks. The way her shoulder bumps mine every few steps like she’s fighting the pull between us too. The way she always has a new pair of book earrings dangling from her tiny earlobes.
“How many book earrings do you have?” I ask, forgetting to filter.
“Oh.” Her fingers play with one of the books as she laughs. “A lot. I make them myself of all my favorite books. These are my six-star reads.”
“Six? I thought ratings only went to five?”
“That’s why these are special. If you see me wearing a book, it’s because I adored it.”
“You still never answered how many earrings you have.” I narrow my eyes and lean in. “Spill it.”
“I mean, why not? You must already think I’m a mess anyway.”
That stops me short.
“Maya, I don’t think that about you. I hope I’m not giving you that impression. I’m not really good in this department, so if I?—?”
“What department?” She squints at me.
“Dating, I guess.” I rub the back of my neck. Is this a date? This feels more real than when I was with Farrah.
Apparently I said the wrong word because she leaps away as if I demanded her wallet at gunpoint.
“Oh, no, no.” She holds up her hands, warding me off. “I’m not interested in dating.”
Well... this isn’t the reaction I was expecting.
“Please don’t be upset with me. It isn’t your fault. It’s me—1000 percent me. I guess I need to rip the wound open anyway. Remember Felipe?” She takes a deep breath, trying to compose herself and failing. “After years of dating, to the point that I thought last Christmas he might actually pop the question, I caught him making out with his co-worker.”
“Maya—?”
She holds up a hand, rushing to continue. “The worst part is that he blamed me. Said it was my fault for his infidelity. All the books I’d read created some unrealistic version of love that he could never live up to. Then he said it felt like a chore to be with me and how our relationship wasn’t exciting anymore. He even pointed out the fact I’d gained some extra weight and he wasn’t attracted to me?—?”
I cup her jaw, startling her into silence, and tilt her face upward so she could see me, to stare deep in my eyes and I know what I’m about to say is the honest-to-God truth.
“He lied.”
Her brown eyes widen, and I’m lost in the liquid pools.
“He did?”
“Oh, yeah.”
My thumb brushes across her jaw like it has a mind of its own. She shivers, her eyes closing for a moment, but she slides from my grasp and takes a shaky breath.
“Just to be clear, I don’t want to be with him anymore. But I also don’t like all the reminders that come with hearing his voice all the time. It’s why I made a New Year’s resolution to not date anyone for a year so I could allow both my heart and mind to heal.”
Tears glisten on her cheeks. Yes, she might be over that man, but the negativity he left behind has grown like weeds, strangling her self-confidence and self-worth.
“I understand.”
“And I’m sorry if I made it seem like I was interested in something besides friendship. Because I do like hanging out with you, Des. I’d hate for this to put a wrench into the start of our new friendship.”
I throw an arm around her shoulders and forcibly swallow my lump of disappointment. “It didn’t. You have nothing to worry about.”
“Really?” She leans into me for a side hug, and I try not to notice how perfectly she fits. “You always know what to say. I’m beginning to think I was meant to break down on the mountain so I could meet you.”
“Me too.”
The awkward tension that was buzzing between us like a persistent mosquito is missing for the rest of the evening. We scarf down buffalo burgers and spicy sweet potato fries under the Colorado stars, swapping life stories between bites. It’s the most I’ve ever spoken outside the classroom.
Most of Maya’s stories revolve around her big family, how she loves them but feels smothered at the same time. I rest my chin on my fist as she describes the first book she fell in love with and confesses that she never returned it to her school library. She pulls out her phone and shyly shows me her social media page where thousands of people follow her, interested in her book recommendations.
My jaw drops a little at the reel of her library. It’s a floor-to-ceiling bookshelf that fills her entire guest room. She wasn’t kidding when she said she was a bookaholic.
I feel almost boring compared to her exciting life. So I start with my basics, how I grew up in Rocosa and, whereas she has an enormous family, mine consists of Reese, who sometimes has massive mood swings like what she witnessed earlier due to her addiction. At her melancholy expression, I quickly pivot to how I knew I always wanted to be a teacher because numbers come so easily to me.
“So you’re like a genius or something?”
“I don’t know if I would say that. I’m just good with numbers.” I shift on the bench, my neck heating the longer she stares.
“What’s 10,393 times 234?”
Numbers appear in my mind, multiplying effortlessly in a calming way. Barely a few seconds pass before I answer with confidence. “2,431,962.”
“ No way. Did you make that up? That can’t be right.”
“Check for yourself.”
Maya whips out her phone and punches the numbers into an app. The results jolt her from her seat. “ What? You’re a freaking human calculator. How did you do that?”
“I didn’t have a TV or a lot of toys growing up. Numbers were entertaining and consistent for me. I like things that are reliable.” I clear my throat when her brown eyes soften. “It was also a special game between my granny and me. She would randomly quiz me with a problem, similar to what you did. Yours was relatively easy with only two numbers.”
“I bet that’s a fun party trick.”
I bark a laugh. “Uh, no. It’s not really a ‘skill’ others appreciate, especially kids. Though it did help me get stuffed into a locker once.”
“Oof. That’s why I like reading so much. It helps me escape the meanness of the world. All right, smarty-pants, try this one: 3,285 divided by the square root of 93 times zero.”
There’s no hesitation. “Zero. I thought you were going to make it harder?”
“Well, I thought the zero would trip you up. Let me try another.”
She nibbles on her lower lip, trying her best to think of an equation to stump me. But she doesn’t know I am already stumped, not with the numbers but with her. How does she keep finding her way into my thoughts? I’ve typed up thirty-five text messages and immediately deleted them before I hit send. Words have never come easy to me, especially when feelings are involved. But she makes me want to leave my comfort zone. To learn more about her and memorize her features until I know them as easily as math facts.
Does this mean I like her? Or am I just curious? Or is it both? As desperate as I am for answers, I also sense Maya’s hesitation. If I come on too strong, she’ll bolt in the other direction. For now, my curiosity must wait.
After a few more equations, which I pass with flying colors, I snatch my victory fry from her plate with a smug smile and brand the sweet lilt of her laugh into my memory.
When the food truck closes up, I’m shocked at how late it’s gotten. The overhead string lights blink off, and we realize we are the only customers left in the picnic area.
She grabs her purse and chuckles in the moonlight. “I guess that’s our signal to go home.”
But for once, I don’t want to retreat. I want to stay and binge every season of Maya’s life like some Netflix addict. But I remind myself to take it nice and slow. Strange how I usually offer this advice to everyone else, but this is the first time I’ve had to say it to myself.
Then I suddenly grin at the excuse to get her back on my bike. It’s a minute ride back to Julia’s cabin and way too short a drive for my taste. We ride the entire way with my hand resting over hers. For her reassurance, of course.
She hops off the motorcycle, still talking a mile a minute about the recent book she read about a merman falling in love with a girl. After five minutes she lost me, but hearing the enthusiasm in her words makes me want to read the book myself just so I can see her face light up when I mention it again.
I reach out to unlatch Maya’s helmet strap, and everything slows as I lift it over her head like one of those cliché clips from the movies. Creamy moonbeams wash over her features, haloing her curls, and I don’t realize I’ve grabbed a ringlet until it’s between my fingers.
She laughs, a twinkle of it glimmering in her eyes. “I’m sure it’s a rat’s nest after the ride.”
“It’s beautiful,” I say, unable to stop myself.
“You’re sweet.” We stand there a second too long, neither of us moving away. “Goodnight, Des.”
I let the curl slip from my fingers and remind myself this is not a date.
“Goodnight, Maya,” I return, and I drive home before I do something neither of us are ready for.
Before I fall asleep, a text chimes on my phone with an apology from Reese. I ignore it and curl back under the covers, letting my not-a-date with Maya play on a loop in my head until I finally doze off.
I ’m here and yet I’m not. My senses notice the details around me. The warm sun cooking me through my leather at the same time the wind brushes my skin with its icy fingers to cool me down. Bright green leaves mix with the darker hues of the pines, painting a blur of color in my peripheral as I drive by. Clear blue skies stretch out in the distance, not a cloud in sight.
It’s a perfect day for a ride, but I don’t even see it.
Instead, my mind is dissecting the conversation with Maya. What is going on between us? Are we friends? Or something more? Not that a relationship is an option. Normally that’s my line, to say I don’t date. So, I should’ve been happy we are on the same page.
But when Maya says it? I frown as another punch of disappointment hits my gut.
I’m at a loss of what to do—or even what I want.
The rumble of the engines is soothing white noise and helps me focus internally. It’s one of those rare days where the whole group is out on a ride together, including their significant others. Only Jude, Chantelle’s fiancé, is busy today.
The wind rushes over me as I take a tight curve, following behind Cai’s motorcycle. Talullah holds on to him with a death grip, squeezing him to the point I’m surprised he’s able to take a full breath. Chris and Roxy lead the pack, with Thor and Clover close behind. Chantelle’s right beside them, her dark braids flapping behind her like tentacles.
Their voices flow into my speakers, all our helmets synchronized. They’re laughing, talking over one another. The sound of it is comforting despite how rambunctious they can get, especially when we are all together like this. Some days, like today, I just don’t feel like talking and let their banter wrap around me like a weighted blanket—even if most of the discussion is about wedding plans.
I miss this. I miss them.
I wasn’t lying to Maya yesterday when I said this is more than a biker group. They are more than friends. They are the ones who saved me when I was at my lowest.
When Granny died, something inside me broke too. Even numbers didn’t compute. Reese turned to alcohol, and I folded inside myself, shutting off the world until there was only darkness. I lost my teaching position at Dartmouth College, spiraling until the day I bumped into Chris and he invited me to go riding with him and his friends one evening.
It changed my life.
And just like it had years ago, the longer we ride, the more the tight vise around my chest eases. It’s better—and cheaper—than therapy.
But still, one name ping-pongs in my thoughts: Maya .
“Des? You still there?” Chris asks through our synced helmets and jolts me to the present.
Thor’s head dips closer to his side mirror. “I see him. What’s wrong, Teach?”
The silence that follows his question makes my insides twist. I know everyone is waiting for me to speak.
“Nothing,” I say.
There’s another weight of silence before Cai sighs. “Is this about the date I set you up with? I thought you said we were good.”
The whole group erupts in chatter, talking over one another through the headsets.
“Date?” Quickly peeking over her shoulder, Chantelle shrieks with excitement and nearly shatters my eardrums. It’s so loud it muffles Chris’s and Thor’s responses.
“It’s not a big deal,” Cai interjects, trying to defuse the bomb he set off.
Talullah shakes her helmet at him. “Why didn’t you say anything?”
“I’m shocked Des noticed someone flirting with him.” Thor’s deep laugh vibrates in my helmet, and the others join in.
Clover groans, silencing him. “Leave him be. Not everyone is a big flirt like you.”
“Maybe if you all give him a chance to speak, he’d tell us.” Roxy glances back at me before we all lean into the next curve.
“My wife makes an excellent point.” Chris reaches behind him to rest a hand on her knee.
The waiting silence returns, making me cringe.
Eventually, I give in. “There’s nothing to say other than it didn’t work out. If I find someone, I’ll let you know.”
“Would you?” Holt says from beside me, our bikes parallel. His good eye drills into me, saying more than words can.
He wants to know about Maya. Heck, I don’t even know the answer to that.
“Holt knows something,” Thor accuses. “I know that tone.”
They all start up their chatter again, begging me for details.
“I didn’t say anything.” Holt throws a hand in the air.
“You might as well just tell them the whole story so they will leave you alone,” Cai says, blowing out a breath. “In Des’s defense, I suckered him into this date?—?”
“No, I did,” Talullah cuts in, holding tight to her fiancé’s waist. “She was an old work friend. I had no idea she didn’t like motorcycles.”
The collective groan that ripples through the headset makes my eyes water. Loud noises have always bothered me, which is why for most rides I put in earplugs to combat the noise.
“Good riddance,” Chris says, and the others agree.
“She was nice,” I add, not wanting to hurt Talullah’s feelings. “Just not for me.”
“Is there anything I can use in my next book?”
I chuckle at Chantelle’s hopeful question. Book. My mind changes topics in a finger snap. I forgot Chantelle writes bestsellers under the name Evie Chandler. If readers are obsessed with her books... perhaps a certain librarian would be too.
“Hey, do you have any new book releases?”
“Um, nothing official. I have early release copies of book three in my series. Does Reese want a copy?”
I debate how honest I want to be. If I bring up Maya, that will only start the questions again, and I’m not sure I’m ready to talk about a relationship that even I don’t understand.
“Um . . .”
Holt shoots me a glance, knowing I’m in a tough spot.
“Hey, hey!” Thor says, pointing at us in his mirror. “None of that silent talk you guys do. You have to share it with the rest of the class.”
Clover pops the back of his helmet. “Maybe if you were nicer, he would.”
“I’m nothing but nice, love,” he purrs.
“ Gross .” Chris speeds up like he could leave us behind.
“I’m with you.” Chantelle agrees, matching his speed.
“You want to race, boss?” Thor revs his engine and takes off after them, despite Clover squealing at their quick acceleration.
I, on the other hand, downshift in the hopes of taking a side road back to Rocosa. My mind is still stuck on a certain brunette with wavy curls.
“Are you sure we’re good?” Cai asks.
“Of course. I haven’t thought about Farrah since the date. I just have a lot on my mind. You know the first week of school is exhausting.”
“I bet. Are we still on for Madden later? I want to beat you with a clear conscience.”
Talullah tilts her helmet back and groans.
“You have yet to beat me. Even Talullah plays better than you.”
“Dang straight I do,” she says. “I’ve been practicing. It helps improve my muscle strength.”
“All right, in three hours it’s game on, Des. I won’t go easy on you.”
“No crying when you lose again,” I joke.
They both wave before he hits the throttle and zooms around the curve of the mountain. Static sounds in my ears as our connection ends.
“Keeping secrets, Des?” Holt asks, tsk-tsking playfully. “Didn’t expect that from you. Tell Maya I said hi.” Chuckling, he takes off to catch up with the others.
I turn down a back road and head to the library, grinning like an idiot.
Is it so wrong that I want to keep her to myself for a little bit?