Chapter 39
That evening, I’m dressed in warm clothing, per Sam’s instructions, and sitting on my couch waiting for him to arrive. My knee is bouncing so much I’m afraid it’ll come loose from the joint and start walking on its own.
When I feel like I can’t take the nerves any longer, I hear the doorbell. Stopping to look at my reflection in the mirror by the door one last time, I open the door and greet Sam.
“Wait." Seeing the motorcycle jacket in Sam's hand makes me nervous. "You aren’t thinking I’m going to—I don’t think this is a good idea.”
“Yes, I do, in fact, think you’re going to get on my motorcycle with me.” I feel the color drain from my face, and he adds, quietly, gently, “I’ll keep you safe, Kat. I promise.”
I can’t take my eyes off the black motorcycle jacket he’s holding out to me or the one he’s wearing himself.
Finally lifting my eyes to his face, I see he’s looking at my feet. “But you need to change your shoes. You can’t ride with me in those slip-ons.”
“Well, that’s too bad because just this afternoon, I threw away all my other shoes. Darn, I was looking forward to riding with you.” I shrug as if that is the end of the story.
“Nice try.” He steps inside, hangs the jacket he was holding onto a hook by the door, takes his off and hangs it on the same hook, and drags me down the hall to my bedroom.
Sam gently pushes me down onto the bed and walks over to my closet, pulling out shoes he deems suitable. Walking over to my dresser, he asks, “Which drawer has your socks?” I hear his words, but I’m too stunned to process them.
Is he serious about riding a motorcycle? Didn’t he crash last time?
“Kat?” His gentle voice breaks through my fog. “Which drawer are your socks in?”
“The top left.” I watch as he opens the drawer, chooses a pair of socks for me, and shuts the drawer before walking back to where I’m still sitting. He kneels in front of me, and that action shocks me out of my stupor.
“Oh my God, I can put on my own shoes.” He shrugs, handing me the socks, and sits on the bed next to me.
“Didn’t like me kneeling in front of you?” His voice is playful and enticing.
I’m remembering our time in Chicago when he was on his knees in front of me, and my cheeks instantly flush. I can see his big smile from the corner of my eye.
“Sam, I—” It comes out way too breathy. Shaking my head to clear the lust forming, I try again. “I thought the last time you rode a motorcycle was when you had your accident.” I frown at him, my eyebrows pulled together in concern.
“I rode it to my dad’s house the night your parents gave it to me, and I’ve been riding it each time I’ve been home.
I was definitely nervous the first couple of times, but it all came back to me.
” He looks at me with so much sincerity as he adds, “I wouldn’t ask you to do this if I were hesitant at all.
The weather looks great, and we aren’t going too far. Trust me?”
He looks at me with so much hope shining in his eyes. “Yes. I trust you.”
“Then let’s go.” He stands and holds his hand out to me. I slowly take it and let him pull me up.
Before we move, his lips are on mine. His kiss is gentle, but the way his hands grip my waist tells me he's holding back. He breaks away from me too soon. “Shit. I meant to wait until the end of the night before kissing you.”
“I don’t mind the little detour.” I smile wickedly at him and bite my lip.
“Stop biting that lip, or we’re never going to get out of here, and I have special plans for us.” Sam tugs my lip from my teeth, grabs my hand, and walks towards the front door.
He lets go of my hand and puts his jacket back on, zipping it up and snapping the buttons at the top and bottom. Sam grabs the other jacket. “Turn around.” His voice is gentle, the way one speaks to a frightened animal.
I do as he asks. He helps me put on the black motorcycle jacket, then spins me around and zips it up. He zips up the sleeves, making them tight against my wrists, and fastens the snaps on each one.
“Where did you get this?” Testing out the jacket, I find that it's snug, but in a way that still allows me to breathe. I feel the built-in protective pieces throughout.
“I bought it for you this afternoon. Along with the helmet and gloves I have for you downstairs.”
“Wait. You bought these for me?”
“Kat, I used to love riding, and I can’t imagine you being in my life and not having you ride with me. My backpack.” He winks at me.
I don’t remember him wearing a backpack when he came in, but I look around anyway.
“Missing something?”
“Your backpack. But I don’t remember you coming in with one. Where did you set it down?”
He starts to laugh but quickly reins it in when I look at him quizzically. “No, little menace.” Sam lightly tugs on my braid. “The passenger on a motorcycle is a backpack. And tonight, I’m very much looking forward to you being mine.”
I’m still confused when Sam adds, “It’s because you’ll sit a little higher than me and hang on to me. Nice and snug against my back. Like a backpack.” He waggles his eyebrows at me and then pulls me out of the condo and down to the street, where his motorcycle is.
I stare at the two helmets on the seat and wonder where he stored the one for me when he drove over here. He drops my hand again and picks up one of the helmets. He lifts the visor before helping me put it on.
“This should be a pretty close fit. You want it to be snug, and it shouldn’t move when you shake your head.”
He gestures for me to test it, so I shake my head, and the helmet stays in place.
“You shouldn’t feel any pressure points, and you shouldn’t feel like you’re going to bite the inside of your cheek. Does it feel ok?”
“Yeah, it feels a little strange, but it’s comfortable enough.” He helps me fasten the chin strap before stepping back to examine me.
“Good.” Sam hands me a pair of gloves, which I take and put on. He takes out his phone and snaps a quick picture of me, pockets his phone, and then reaches for his own helmet. “You look too cute not to take a pic.” He winks at me before securing his helmet.
Once his helmet and his gloves are on, he straddles the motorcycle, gesturing for me to climb on behind him.
When he sees I’m looking a little confused, Sam points down to a small peg. “Step on this with your left foot and swing your right over. There’s another peg there. You keep your feet on those the entire time, ok? Put your hands on my shoulders for balance as you swing your leg over.”
I nod and climb on behind him.
“When I lean into a turn, you’re gonna lean with me. Try to relax your body against mine, and don’t be afraid to lean into me during the ride or when we stop. Try not to move too quickly.”
A nod is my only response again. I’m too nervous about this to talk.
Sam reaches behind him and grabs ahold of each of my hands, bringing them around his waist. “Snug, like a backpack.” He closes his visor, and I follow his action, closing mine, too. I feel the bike shift under us as he takes the weight of the bike onto his feet, and lifts the kickstand.
I tighten my grip around him while still allowing him room to breathe and feel a pleasant rumble in his chest. Did he just groan?
I’m terrified but also feel hot in all the places our bodies are touching. I turn my head and lean my helmeted head against his back.
“Is this uncomfortable for you?” The sound is muffled with the visor down. The helmet is so bulky that it feels weird to rest it on his back.
“It’s the most comfortable I’ve ever felt.” Sam pats my left hand with his before adding, “Now, hang on.”
I tighten my grip as he starts the motorcycle. Sam’s body shakes with laughter that I wish I could hear over the roar of the engine. He checks over his shoulder to make sure it's all clear and drives off.
The longer I’m behind him, the more my body starts to relax. I’m still holding onto him like my life depends on it, but I’m not as nervous. Each time he stops at a streetlight, he pats my hand or reassuringly rubs my knee. It takes about 20 minutes before I realize where we’re going.
Ethan, Sam, Liv, and I used to come here a lot as teenagers. Liv and I usually sunbathed while Sam and Ethan surfed. Sometimes we would come with a group of other people and have parties along the beach.
If we stayed long enough, I would sit on my beach blanket, face away from the water, knees to my chest, and watch the sun set over the land. Even facing the water, I loved watching the sky change from blue to purple, pink, and orange before darkening to a deep blue and then black.
It was always one of my favorite views. Sometimes Sam and I would sit next to each other. We usually sat there in silence, absorbing the colors and the quiet.
The sunsets at Folly Beach aren’t the same as the ones on the west coast, where the sun sets over the water, causing it to gleam. But I will forever love the view, no matter which coast I’m on.
Sam parks his motorcycle in a designated space and shuts off the engine, sliding the kickstand into place.
Slowly, I extract myself from him and his bike.
I stand there watching him dismount, his body movements smooth, as if this is such a natural part of him.
He removes his helmet as I continue to stare at him.
Sam catches my stare and smiles his big, brilliant smile that shows off the dimple in his left cheek. “Need help getting that off?” He gestures towards the helmet still on my head.
I reach up for the chin strap but struggle to find the end of it.
Sam walks up to me. “Allow me.” He reaches up and unfastens the chin strap, letting me pull the helmet off my head. He takes it from me and locks both helmets on what I realize are designated helmet holders. Handy.
My hand reaches for my braided hair, and I’m glad when it doesn’t feel like it’s a mess. Sam turns back to me and nods toward the beach, where I see a picnic blanket set up with a backpack in the center.
“You set this up and then came to get me?”