Chapter 8 Madelina #2
The breath I didn’t realize I was holding rushes out, accompanied by a sudden smile that catches me off guard. “Let’s do this,” I say finally, a mix of excitement and trepidation surging through me. I’ve never ridden on the back of a motorcycle before.
A moped, yes, but I don’t think it’s the same.
Climbing onto his bike, I settle into the seat.
It’s surprisingly comfortable, but the only way to steady my nerves is to wrap my arms around his waist and hold on for dear life.
He glances back at me, tilting his head ever so slightly as he gestures for me to hold on tight.
I secure my arms around him, heart racing.
With a roar, he starts the engine, and we pull onto the road.
True to his word, he doesn’t speed, making the ride exhilarating yet manageable.
The wind whips through my hair, and despite thinking I would hate it, I enjoy the sense of freedom from being on the open road with the wind blowing against my skin.
Before long, we arrive at the first car yard, a sprawling lot teeming with shiny vehicles, and within moments, a salesman approaches us like a hawk eyeing its prey.
I take a cursory glance around, but nothing really catches my interest. As Elliot engages the eager salesman, I see he’s clearly good at haggling, but soon he notices my lack of enthusiasm.
“Could you give us a moment, Harry?” Elliot requests politely, stepping away from the salesman, who nods, retreating to examine new arrivals in the parking lot.
Turning to me, Elliot tilts his head. “What’s wrong?”
I shrug, frustration bubbling to the surface. “Nothing here speaks to me. I need to feel it, you know? Like when you’re dating someone and there’s that spark, or there isn’t. None of these cars spark anything for me.”
Elliot presses his lips together, half-amused. “It’s a car. A hunk of metal.”
“Are you going to help me or not?”
“You want me to help you find a spark?” he questions, eyebrows raised skeptically.
“Yes,” I reply with a hint of irritation in my tone. The heat is doing nothing to help out here, and I’m desperate for a drink of water. “Sabrina was my car, and what we had was something special.”
“You’re a lot of work, you know that?” he huffs, then motions for me to follow him. “Let’s find your damn spark.”
We venture deeper into the yard together, scanning rows of cars for my connection. Heat kisses our skin as our eyes scan the vehicles.
Suddenly, Elliot’s voice cuts through my thoughts. He’s pointing enthusiastically at a vibrant green Mini Cooper being carefully unloaded from the delivery truck. “She’s a real headturner. A solid brand, aesthetically pleasing, and I think she really suits your vibe.”
I chuckle softly. “My vibe?”
“Yes, isn’t that your lingo?” he teases with a grin.
As I step closer to the car, I watch the driver navigate the 18-wheeler’s ramp, carefully guiding the small vehicle down until it finally settles onto the gravel surface of the lot.
“She is adorable, just like me, right?” I say, the words slipping out before I can think twice.
Elliot flashes a playful grin. “Sure, if that’ll ignite the spark you’re looking for.”
I tease him with a lighthearted slap to his arm.
“But in all seriousness, I’m obsessed. The British racing green is such a classic.
I’ve always wanted this color. And the racing stripe?
Who even am I? I’ll tell you who: some famous racing car driver I couldn’t name because I don’t watch Formula One or whatever it’s called. ”
Harry makes his way over, enthusiastically spouting off facts about the Mini.
Elliot performs a quick inspection, asking a slew of thorough questions before requesting a detailed vehicle history report.
I’m grateful Elliot asked the questions because I have no clue what an air filter is.
Once he seems satisfied with every aspect, he gives the nod of approval.
“All clear,” he declares with a satisfied smile.
“She’s absolutely perfect,” I whisper, gliding my fingers over the smooth, polished surface of the car. This isn’t just a car to get me to places—it symbolizes a fresh start, a new chapter in my life. “I’ll take her.”
In no time, Harry is ushering me into his portable office to finalize all the paperwork so I can drive my new car home today. I sign the contract and coordinate the funds transfer, unable to contain my elation.
With the keys in hand, my excitement becomes too much as I leap toward Elliot, wrapping him in a tight hug. “Thank you so much! I think I’ll name her Beatrice.”
Elliot chuckles softly as he embraces me back, his arms warm and welcoming. Something about him feels… comforting, like a hug from a long-lost friend.
“You do realize it’s a bit ridiculous to name your car, right?”
I pull back slightly but stay close, caught in his wistful gaze. “Don’t hurt her feelings. She’s new and deserves a bit of affection. As a thank you, I’d love to take you out to dinner.”
“You’ve said thank you,” he reminds me, cocking his head ever so slightly. “The awkward hug we just had was enough.”
“B-but…” I stammer, trying to search for a way to relay how grateful I am for his help. “What you did today, well, it means a lot to me.”
“Fine.” Elliot exhales dramatically, but then the corners of his mouth tease into a smirk. “But I’m picking the place. Chef’s orders.”
“Of course, Chef,” I answer, clapping with excitement. “It’s a date.”
Instantly, Elliot’s expression transforms, his confident grin faltering as a flicker of confusion crosses his features. Only now does it dawn on me that I carelessly dropped the word date.
Great, my big mouth is frightening the poor little boy.
“Are you freaking out because I said it was a date, even though it’s not really a date? I mean, duh, you’re Eva’s brother,” I babble, my nerves bubbling to the surface.
“No,” Elliot shoots back, his tone quick and resolute. “I wouldn’t date you anyway, even if you offered me a million bucks.”
“Great comeback, genius,” I retort, rolling my eyes. “But seriously, tonight?”
“Tonight,” he confirms, his expression settling back into that familiar mix of amusement and challenge.
It’s not a date—just two friends sharing a meal as a small token of gratitude.
So why, all of a sudden, is my stomach fluttering at the thought?