Chapter 44
44
RHYS
I kill the motor of my bike and push open the kick stop after pulling into a parking space at the Fleming Museum of Art in Burlington.
Then, I do the unusual part of my parking routine—I pull my helmet off.
I’ve never worn a helmet while riding before. It’s not that I’m reckless or careless or anything; I just never gave it too much thought. I liked the feeling of the wind whipping through my hair and streaking past my face. In my mind, giving up that feeling wasn’t worth the precaution.
Until a couple weeks ago, Maddie looked up at me with those damn eyes of hers and told me, I really wish you’d wear a helmet when you ride .
I bought my first helmet that day, and I’ve worn it every time I’ve been on my bike since.
Maddie and I are meeting here for a sneaky date in the middle of the week. She took the bus down while I rode my bike, because there’s no way I’m letting her get on this thing. Motorcycles are dangerous, and she means too much to me to put at risk.
Honestly, I’ve been thinking about getting a car just so I could drive us around. It would make getting the two of us out from under the eye of her brother or other people we know easier.
Images of us having date nights at nice restaurants, or doing cute things like going to farmer’s markets or apple picking dance through my brain, and my cheeks warm with a smile.
Man, I’m really getting sappy these days. And I don’t have any intention of checking those tendencies where Maddie Larsen is concerned.
I leave my helmet on my seat and walk into the museum. My pulse stutters when my eyes sweep the lobby and find her sitting down on one of the benches as she waits for me.
My jaw muscles arc, and I pull in a sharp breath through my nose at the sight of what she has on.
She wears a dark green skirt with black leggings that have sparks firing in my brain. The way the black fabric goes thin and shows the light complexion of her skin on her bent knees while she sits is something I know I’m going to be recalling dozens of times as I fist myself in the shower.
Above it, she has a pale yellow sweater, and she wears her hair in a tight bun. It’s taking every ounce of self-control I can summon not to scoop her up and march her to the nearest closet.
She spots me, and an excited expression comes alive on her face. Seeing her excited to see me makes my heart leap in my chest. It’s a high better than any drug.
She stands up to greet me as I stroll over. “Enjoy your bus ride down?” I ask.
“Very much, in fact,” she answers, a wry undercurrent beneath her chipper tone. “I got some reading done. A romance book that Summer recommended me. It gave me some …” her eyes glimmer, “ideas.”
Blood rushes to my cock. “Fuck,” I sigh low so only she can hear. “Don’t tell me that right now. I’ve heard it’s gauche to walk around an art museum with a tent in your pants.”
I take advantage of us being in another town and unlikely to run into anyone we know by wrapping her hand in mine as we walk through the galleries. We always have to be careful about being physical with each other back in Cedar Shade, but here I’m taking full liberties.
Draping my arm on her shoulders, wrapping my arm around her waist and tugging her close, letting my hand surreptitiously graze across the curve of her ass, dropping a kiss to the top of her head, all the things I dream about being able to do when we’re near each other, whenever I want, without having to worry about who’s looking.
It’s been a couple weeks since we slept together, and things have been … perfect.
I still haven’t gathered up the courage to broach the subject of what exactly we are yet, and where we’re going. Things are so good right now, I don’t want to upset this perfect balance we’re in, where I get to enjoy being with Maddie in ways I’ve always dreamed about, without running the risk of damaging my friendship with Lane.
But I know this balance isn’t permanent. It’s built on a flimsy foundation that’s bound to crumble before long.
Next week is Thanksgiving break. Maddie and I are going to be in our hometown, the place we met, the place we grew up, the place we became friends, the place we made so many memories. That’s going to be the right time to have that conversation.
A cold shard of worry scrapes against my ribs. What if Maddie doesn’t want more than just a good time? What of her knowing that I do is her signal that it’s time to shut this chapter closed and go back to just being friends. Would that even be possible?
But I can’t put it off forever. If that’s how this thing between me and her is destined to end, then the longer I put it off, the worse it’s going to be.
Maddie leans against me and sighs wistfully as we gaze at one of the paintings. “Can you imagine how it feels to create a piece of art that people actually travel and pay money to see?”
I nuzzle the top of her head with a grin. “You’ll find out soon enough.”
She makes a noise in her throat that’s part acknowledgment, part disagreement.
“You’ll see,” I add, lacing my fingers into hers and pulling her into the next room.
I can’t wait to watch her prove all her doubts wrong.
When we leave the museum to eat an early dinner at a Burlington restaurant, we keep playing with our feet under the table and rubbing our shins against each other. In moments like this, I allow myself to believe that there’s no way she doesn’t want more than we have now, that there’s no way she doesn’t want all that I want.
In a week, I’ll be sure. For better or for worse.
That thought drives me to kiss her harder and deeper than usual at the bus stop as her bus back to Cedar Shade pulls up.
On my motorcycle, as I drive home, I savor the way her taste tingles on my mouth, and hope that after next week, it doesn’t become only a memory.