Madison
I had assumedwe were just going for a short ride, but it’s two hours later when he returns me to my car. He pulls to a stop and the rumble beneath my bottom ceases. I don’t get up just yet. For the past hour, I’ve been riding with my cheek pressed tightly against his back. It feels nice and safe and comfortable.
“I didn’t want to come back,” he says to me from over his shoulder. He doesn’t look at me. Something tells me he would look everywhere but at me even if we were facing one another.
“Then why did you?” I lean to the side so I can see his face. He has a fine dusting of hair on his jaw and I want to touch it to see if it’s bristly or soft. I force my hands into my lap.
“I figured you’d be ready to ditch me.” His eyes meet mine and hold them.
“I wasn’t,” I say softly.
A grin tips the corners of his lips. “Good.”
“I’m really excited about Saturday. How should I dress?”
“I was hoping you might wear nothing.”
I freeze. Mainly because I can’t take a deep breath. Air? What’s that?
“I’m just kidding!” he rushes to say, and he raises his hands to cup my face, forcing me to look into his eyes. “I was only joking. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. What you have on now will work. We’re not going anywhere fancy.”
“Okay.” I draw in a breath. “I’m in the A building in the complex. Room 23. Or should I just meet you somewhere?”
“I’ll pick you up.”
I can’t stop smiling. I probably look like the worst sort of ninny. “I’ll see you then.” He unstraps my helmet and I get off his bike. My legs are wobbly as I stand up, and he helps me straighten myself and get steady with a hand beneath my elbow. “I had a lot of fun today.”
“I did too.” He looks almost like it hurts him to admit that.
“I’ll see you Saturday,” I whisper to him.
He nods and I walk away. I pop my trunk so I can get my coat out. It’s getting cold outside. It takes me a minute to arrange my things, get my coat, shake it out, and put it on. I look over and find Bob standing by the fountain talking to some shady-looking men. I’m pretty sure they don’t go to school here.
I open my car door and start to slide in, but I start to think that Bob might want my phone number in case something changes before Saturday. I jot it down really quickly on the back of a receipt and go to give it to him.
I hear one of the men he’s with as I walk closer. “Who was that on your bike?”
He laughs sharply. It’s not like the laughter I heard from him today at all. “Just a girl.”
Just a girl? A girl I have a date with on Saturday, or my name would have been better. But apparently, I am just a girl.
“She got a name?” one of them asks.
“I never can remember their names,” he says. “Too many of them.” He laughs sharply again and lights a cigarette. “That one is no different from the rest. Just something to do.”
My heart sinks all the way down to my toes. I crumple my phone number up and drop it to the ground. At least I won’t have to get dressed up on Saturday.
Maybe I just dodged a bullet.