Chapter 24 #3
“That was you and your friends?” I say, narrowing my eyes in disbelief. “You were chasing me.”
He grins, leaning back in the booth.
“Hell yeah, we were. You blew past us like we were standing still. I’d never seen someone handle a bike like that. It was impressive.”
I can’t help smiling at the pride in his voice.
“Impressive, huh? You guys didn’t stand a chance.”
He laughs, lighting up his face in an unfairly charming way.
“No, we didn’t. And believe me, we tried. You leaned into the curve, your gloved fingers caressing the concrete, and my idiot buddy was so impressed, he tried the same thing but scraped up his fingers.”
“Let me guess, he wasn’t wearing a glove.”
“Nope, he wasn’t, but that’s just Emilio for ya. He’s the biggest idiot of us all. Don’t worry, you’ll never meet that guy.”
He finally picks up his burger, diving into it with a relaxed sense of ease as if everything has been resolved. It’s easy to see how good he would be for me. He doesn’t take things too seriously and quickly lets things drop or pass, not wanting to dwell on them.
In contrast, I agonize over and scrutinize every little thing. He’s right that this is not only about trust but also about losing control over things beyond my reach. He has friends, and they share in each other’s lives. If I accept him, then I must accept that as well.
“They were pretty impressed with you, even Dominic. And nothing impresses that guy.”
He grabs the ketchup, squirts a massive glob onto his plate, and drags some french fries through.
“Well, that and you’re Doctor Rossi’s daughter. He’s into chemistry and science, so I’m sure he’d love to meet your dad sometime.”
This conversation veers off course, yet that seems to be how it is with him and me. Concerns and worries fall by the wayside when we are together.
I watch him, the tension in my chest warring with the flicker of hope his words spark. Trust doesn’t come easy, not after what’s happened, but something in his eyes pulls at me and makes me want to believe that maybe, just maybe, we can figure this out.
“So, what do you say, Iz? Can we get past this and go back to being complicated?”
His hand moves toward mine, an invitation and an olive branch.
“Are you really graduating after my class?”
“Things got kind of messed up with my accident, but yeah, then onto grad school, but here in town. So you’re not getting rid of me. You’ll just have me exclusively in run-down roadside dives until December, and then we’re free to be together anywhere in public if that’s what you’re getting at.”
I wasn’t.
I appreciate his willingness to keep us quiet rather than a secret since a couple of other people already know. My worries, which tried to rally once more, are finally quiet in my head.
“Okay.”
He stares at me, leaning in and tilting his ear toward me to point out how lowly I said it.
“You’ve got to do better than that, especially after the grilling you’ve given me. Not to mention making me sweat it out for days.”
My mouth opens to defend how many tears I shed over him, but then he winks.
“I’m kidding. If you say okay, then we’re okay.”
He smacks the back of his hand on the table, insisting on mine, and I oblige. When our palms connect, the heat from his runs up my arm and through my body.
“That’s my girl. Now Iz, promise me after finishing this rank food, we will celebrate properly by letting me fuck you across your new bike.”
I blink at him in disbelief.
“Excuse me?”
He squeezes my hand and releases it. A smug grin spreads across his face.
“My new bike? What are you talking about?”
He shifts from his side of the booth to mine, draping his arm along the back, our bodies pressed together.
“It’s not the pink you like, but we can wrap it if you want. I do like the white and red, though, so maybe a new color for our new beginning? I was going to get you a new helmet, but I couldn’t find one with the ponytail, and again, what color?”
He shrugs as if he didn’t just drop a bomb on me.
“You bought me a bike?” My voice pitches higher than I’d like, drawing the waitress’s attention. “Are you out of your mind? I can’t accept that.”
He drags his half-eaten plate of food in front of him and casually drags a fry through the ketchup before answering.
“It’s not a big deal. It’s only what? Twenty grand? Twenty-two tops.”
I gape at him, stunned into silence.
Twenty grand?
That’s not a big deal?!?!
“Absolutely not.” I shake my head and pull away to stare at him. “I can’t—”
“Yeah, you can. How will we ride together if you don’t have a bike?”
His tone is firm but not pushy. His dark eyes lock on mine with the unwavering confidence that has always infuriated and fascinated me.
“I mean, when you’re not backpacking. I want to go on long rides, grab a cabin in the woods, and repeat Sunday. I want every weekend to be Sunday, Izzy. Months of Sundays, aside from that big blow-up, you get what I’m saying.”
I’m so flabbergasted by how big and expensive this gift is that I just can’t get my mind around him dropping that kind of money on me.
“Diego . . . I’ll pay you back. In increments and—”
“No, Isabella. This is my gift to you. I want to do it. I was there when you wrecked yours. I want to be the one to make this right. You’ll have to give up control on this because I’m not compromising.”
“But it’s twenty thousand dollars. Twenty, like what comes after nineteen! That’s more than—”
“Remember that first day you accused me of wasting my parents’ money by not taking your class seriously?
Well, you’re right. They are loaded. Have way more money than they need and I need, combined.
But I have my own money, racing money, and I have this guy who manages it, grows it, and all that Wall Street shit.
Trust me, Izzy. It’s not that much. It’s half a month of earnings. ”
My brain can’t compute the casual way he brushes off twenty grand like it’s pocket change. Meanwhile, I’m still debating if I should splurge on the good coffee or stick to my budget-friendly instant stuff.
He sees the hesitation written all over my face and leans in slightly.
“Izzy, let me do this for you. No strings. No expectations. Just let me.”
I exhale sharply, shaking my head.
“It’s not about strings. It’s about . . . you don’t just buy people motorcycles.”
His lips curve into a smirk, and damn it, he knows he’s winning.
“You do when you have more money than sense. And when you want to ride every weekend with a certain stubborn woman who refuses to admit she wants the same thing.”
I glare at him, but it’s weak at best. Because he’s right. I do want that. The long rides. The endless Sundays. The freedom I haven’t felt since my old bike was totaled.
Still, I hesitate.
“What if something happens to it? What if I wreck it again?”
His smirk fades, replaced by something steadier, more serious.
“Then we’ll fix it. Or replace it. It’s just a bike, Izzy. What matters is that you’re on the road with me, where you belong.”
The sincerity in his voice melts the last of my resistance, and I sigh, dropping my gaze to the table. He jostles me back into the side of his body, taking another bite of his alleged rank burger.
My mind spits out visions of us riding through the fall foliage and open roads, enjoying the trip and each other.
It’s everything.
Freedom, adrenaline, and control.
And now, it’s us.
“Now finish that wack-ass chicken, Izzy. I got a bike to christen with my girl.”
“Yes, Teach.”