by Cassie Mae
The slam of the door shakes me from my head, and I blink a few times. I quickly sanitize the seats while Candace preps the new group just outside the entrance. Huh… her voice is a bit off—a little shaky… and high-pitched. I snort when I hear her mispronounce the word “Santa,” calling him “Sinta.”
I flick on the go ahead light when I’ve sprayed the last seat down, and the door on the right opens. A group of varied ages enters one by one, filing in to fill the seats. I don’t pay too much attention, my feet eager to get out of here and make fun of Candace for her squeaky voice, but my brain stutters when I catch a glimpse of a somewhat familiar face.
He’s around my age, so that always catches my attention. It’s not often we get the college kids on the weekends, since we’re packed with the younger generation. But it is the holidays, so families are in town. There’s a flash of recognition in his eyes as they meet mine, and it’s right then that it clicks.
An odd sinking feeling rests in the pit of my stomach. Candace isn’t at the podium but standing just outside, peering over my shoulder as I shut the door behind me.
“Was that your bad boy?” I ask, completely forgetting my hot mic. Her mouth opens with a cute pop, and I laugh as she yanks the mic from my head.
“If I didn’t need you, I’d kill you.”
“Aww, so sweet.” Laughter fills that sinkhole in my gut. Guess I know why she was so squeaky. “You okay?”
She blows out a shaky breath, fear replacing the smile behind her eyes. There’s the Candace I’m more familiar with. What is it about this guy that turns her into a lit fuse?
“Are you doing anything after work?” she blurts.
“You mean besides sleeping?”
“I was hoping to squeeze out another lesson from you.” Her brows knit inward. “I’ll pay you extra.”
That’d be nice, but I don’t need more than she’s giving. She’s overpaying me as it is. “What fear did you want to conquer tonight?”
Her teeth pull at the inside of her lip, and she tugs at the end of her paint-stained ponytail. “Will you take me for a ride on Gertrude?”
Candace
Zach asked me out.
Sort of.
The words “take a ride sometime” were said, and then I blacked out. Thank heavens I have the Zombie Theater prep memorized; my brain started pinging and popping like a broken down car on the freeway.
Pete is pretty quiet through the rest of our shift… either that or it’s me and my pinging brain not hearing anything. He flips the lights off at 9:30, and I grab our coats and hand his over. He doesn’t take his blue Troublemakers shirt off like he usually does.
The theater is the fastest clean up, since there is no food allowed in our area, and I’m strict about it. Tanner, however, is still mopping up in the Wheel Zone as we pass. He gives me a big grin and waves.
“See you tomorrow, Candace.”
“I’m actually off,” I call back to him, and the disappointment on his face matches the sad state of his disheveled black Troublemakers shirt—wrinkled and droopy on his lean frame. I was supposed to work with him twice this past week, but I messed with my schedule.
“You’re gonna break that boy’s heart one day,” Pete teases, pushing the exit door open with his butt and stepping back for me to walk through.
I roll my eyes, nerves gluing my tongue to the roof of my mouth. Tanner may act like he’s into me, but he isn’t. He hardly knows me.
Then again, I like a guy I’ve spoken maybe five sentences to.
Pete and I walk in near silence to the employee parking lot. I say near silence, because he’s humming some random tune. I wonder if he hates silence as much as I hate motorcycles.
I stop dead in my tracks when we get within arm’s reach of his bike.
“Change your mind?” he asks with a smirk.
“Do you have an extra helmet?” I’m not getting on the death machine without one, and I realize that my plans to nip this fear in the bud might be dead on arrival.
“You can use mine.” He holds it out, but I don’t take it.
“What about you?”
“I’ll be okay.”
“You don’t know that.”
“Well, we can borrow a helmet from the Wheel Zone if you’re really worried about it.”
I glance over my shoulder to the doors to Troublemakers and nibble on the inside of my bottom lip. Would those helmets even do anything in a motorcycle accident? I mean, what’s the line in the sand between giving a bird to the rules and being safe?
Safe and sound has gotten me nowhere and given me nothing; that’s why I’m changing isn’t it?
Pete’s hyena laugh pulls me from my head, and I narrow my eyes. “What?”
“Your face.”
“Always laughing at my face.”
“You just seem to be struggling with something there.” He closes the six foot gap between us and gently pulls my Troublemaker’s cap from my head. My ponytail flips out and hits my upper back. “Look, I’ll drive slow and obey all traffic laws.” He slips his helmet onto my head, the weight surprising me. I swear I lose my neck entirely into my shoulders.
“Isn’t wearing a helmet a law?” I counter. Chills run up my spine as he clicks the buckle under my chin and slides it to my size. His fingers lightly brush against my skin.
“Not here.”
I swallow hard, adjusting the helmet and trying to get used to the weight. My fingers shake, and it has absolutely nothing to do with the cold night air and everything to do with the fact I’ll be getting on that monster vehicle.
Pete’s gaze travels over my fidgety hands, and he reaches up, taking them into his. His skin is ice. I hope he’s got gloves.
“Take a breath, Candace.”
I breathe in and blow out a large exhale into his face. He jerks his head back, his eyes closing and nose wrinkling. The messy brown strands of hair wave with the gust.
“Sorry.” I make a face, suppressing my laughter. “Garlic for dinner.”
“Was it good?”
“Super yummy.”
We laugh together, and I laugh a little harder at the fact that we laughed in sync. He drops one of my hands, but keeps the other tucked against his palm. He’s being awfully caring right now… I wonder what’s wrong with him.
“You want a safe word?” he asks. I breathe out another shaky laugh, but I suck it back in when I catch the sincerity in his eyes.
“Wait… are you serious?”
“Absolutely.” He leads me to his bike and lets my hand go. The December air replaces his touch. “The second you say you’re done, I’ll take you back here.”
I lift a brow and jam my hands into my coat pockets. “Why are you being so nice?”
“Motorcycles are level violet.” A wrinkle appears on the bridge of his nose, and my heart thuds a little louder in my ears. “This is a big one, isn’t it?”
“Yes,” I admit. I wasn’t completely sane when I asked for a ride, but I still want to do this. Level violet has only three fears. If I can tackle this one, then in theory, I can tackle all those fears underneath it.
Besides, Zach offered to take me for a ride sometime. I’d rather get all my panic out with Pete. He’s much safer; he won’t go anywhere because he’s totally used to my idiosyncrasies.
“How about Troublemaker?” I suggest, glancing up at the neon lights of our place of work.
“I’ll keep an ear out for it.” The corner of his lip twitches, and a warm blanket of comfort descends on me. Oh, I’m still nervous as heck, but I like that I’m in control of this trial run, even if I’m not driving.
He mounts Gertrude, swinging a leg up and over the thing. Holy gosh, there isn’t much room back there for me, especially with his beefy coat.
“So… just do that?” I ask.
His head flings back, and he laughs at the starry sky. “This is nowhere near as tall or thick as a horse.”
Point taken. I straighten my shoulders and march to the bike, throwin
g my leg over before I lose my nerve.
“E-easy p-easy.” My voice cracks against the two words, my chilled body suddenly fiery hot. My crotch is aligned against his hips. Why in the world did I not think of this before?
He laughs, and no no… he can’t do that. It makes things much worse. The way his body moves sends fire-tipped prickles all across my lower abdomen. A rush of lava floods through my bloodstream, and I forget to breathe for a solid fourteen seconds.
My legs are wide apart. A guy fills the gap. My muscles lock into place and refuse to budge.
I’ve never had a guy here before. Never been this close. Never felt such a rush of warmth and goosebumps all at the same time in such an unexplainable fashion.
And worst of all? I think… I think I like it.
“Did you hear a word I said?” Pete asks, sliding goggles over his eyes.
“Huh?”
He laughs—he really needs to knock that off—and reaches back, tapping my thigh. Why is he doing that? Is that supposed to be reassuring? It’s not. More goosebumps pebble across my skin and through my open legs, centering in on any part of me that’s touching him.
“Can you slide any closer?” he asks.
“Closer?” I squeak. He twists enough for me to catch the smile lines in his cheeks. He puts both hands on my legs, hooking me just under the knees. He pulls the slightest bit, and I slip down the seat like it’s a water slide, crashing into the wave that is Pete at the bottom.
“There,” he says. “Snug as a bug.”
Oh sweet merciful heavens, I’m going to pass out.
“Troublemaker,” I breathe, finally able to get some air into my darn lungs.
“Already?”
“Mmmhmm.” I push my helmeted forehead into the comfort of his coat, begging my heart rate to calm the heck down. “I just… need a minute.”
I will not admit that it’s not the road I’m afraid of. Or the bike underneath us. Or the bitter wind that will inevitably freeze my face off.
It’s the thought of essentially spooning with him for however long he plans to drive me around.
“Anything I can do to help?” He offers, setting a hand on my knee. His finger starts to trace random patterns over the fabric of my pants.
Circle.
Infinity sign.
Triangle.
“That’s working,” I tell him, my heart slowing to a dull thud rather than a buzzing bee. He moves his finger more deliberately.
The letter C.
A.
N.
I blow out a breath into his coat as he spells the rest of my name. My mom and I used to spell on each other’s backs all the time. I’d throw the hem of my shirt over my head, keeping my face covered with the fabric as she traced all sorts of things. I love you was common. Tickle monster was common also, followed by her tickle fingers attacking my neck—my most sensitive spot.
I always wondered how my laughter sounded in her head. She couldn’t hear it, and so when she got her cochlear implant, I worried I might disappoint whatever version she’d imagined. Was my voice too squeaky? Did my laugh sound too grating?
“Doing okay?” Pete asks. Gosh he’s being so patient with me. I should give him a tip or something.
“I think so.” No… I know so. I’m feeling much better—barely even realize I’m still spooning him.
“I’m gonna start the bike, then.” He gives my leg a tap. “Keep away from the exhaust. It’ll hurt like hell if you get too close.”
Now I’m thinking I want my legs wrapped completely around his waist. Exhaust burn? No thank you!
He lifts the kickstand, and I try to keep out of the way, but I’m not sure if I’m doing it right. He slams on the starter thing, and the bike rumbles to life.
“Whoa!” I shout over the engine. If I thought my insides were bunched up before, it’s nothing compared to now. The power of the bike vibrates through the seat, rumbling my butt like a massage chair. An unexpected giggle flies from my mouth, and I slip my arms through Pete’s and clutch onto his waist.
“The curb outta here is a little rough,” Pete calls over the engine. “I’ll take it as easy as I can.”
I nod against him, my arms tightening their hold. I’m going to ride on a motorcycle. Holy wow. I’m going to be so bad-a-word after this.
A giddy squeal escapes me as the bike eases forward. The road beneath us moves almost as slowly as it would if I was on a regular bike. Pete’s taking it real easy on me, and I’m super grateful for it.
We reach the potholes that cover the parking lot exit, and he weaves through them as much as he can, using his foot to balance us.
“You ready for the road?”
No. “Um… okay.”
“Remember your safe word?”
“I got it.”
He gives my knee a reassuring pat before he revs the engine. The vibrations rock through me again, exciting and scaring me in equal measure.
I almost want to tell him to keep his hands on the “wheel,” but the knee pats are helping way more than I thought they would.
“Here we go!” His voice is excited and terrified, too, and I have no time to analyze what’s scaring him before he pulls us onto the road, and the bike speeds to thirty, thirty-five, forty miles per hour.
“Ohmygosh ohmygosh ohmygosh…” I chatter nonsensically behind him. His shoulders move, but I can’t hear his obvious laughter over the wind and the engine.
The world passes by in a blur, my eyes watering despite how much I’m hiding in Pete’s coat. Christmas street lights blend together in beautiful, watery rainbows. I hope it’s imprinted in my memories so I can replicate it in paint.
Another giggle floats up my throat, and with it pops out a small bundle of nerves that gets crushed on the asphalt below us. The cold bites at my face and my knuckles, but I’m so digging the sting. This is better than the paintballs, better than eradicating that spider, better than wearing clothes that show off a little more skin.
The bike slows, and I peek up over Pete’s shoulder to a red light. He eases us to a stop, and I feel his body relax against mine. A shiver goes up my spine.
“You doing all right?” He twists around, and the concern in his light brown irises melts my heart into a bowl of chili on this cold night.
“Yeah,” I say with a breathy laugh.
The corner of his mouth perks up. “Mind if we head to Big Bear Park?”
I shake my head, my grin widening. The park is decked out this time of year—lots of lights and a hot cocoa stand and carolers. It’s Saturday, too, so it’ll still be bustling this late.
The light turns green, and I tighten my hold almost on instinct. I can’t believe I didn’t feel safe with these things; that is the big reason why it’s a violet level. So many bad things can happen, and my imagination doesn’t help.
Motorcycles equaled danger, but holding onto Pete and letting him care for my well-being has never felt safer.
The park is about twenty miles from Troublemakers, and I start calculating the time it’ll take to go back, and then drive home.
I’ll be out past my bedtime. Go me! Another bad girl thing I’ve done today.
My hands are numb by the time Pete pulls us into the park. As I predicted, the place is a buzz. It looks like it’s mostly people on dates or hanging out in groups. I recognize a few people from art school, including Tristan. I want to wave, but I don’t dare move my hands from Pete’s waist until we come to a complete stop.
“I’m gonna find parking ‘round the other side,” he calls to me.
“Okay!”
He takes us to the back entrance to the park—a much quieter place, but that’s mostly because there aren’t as many lights. He stops the bike near one of the only trees with no decorations.
The engine cuts off, but my body is still on vibrate. Another giggle erupts from my body, like I can’t control it.
“Was it as bad as you thought?” Pete asks as I slide from the bike. My legs are still shaking, and
he reaches out to steady me. I gladly take him up on the offer.
“Do I have to admit you were right?”
He laughs. “Nah. I’ll let this one slide.”
“How kind of you.”
My body is a just-opened bottle of champagne. My legs wobble as we make our way to the hot cocoa stand, and more and more giggles burst from me in uncontained bubbles. Pete keeps giving me the side-eye, amusement flickering in his expression. He must be getting a kick out of me, but he’s not teasing me. Yet, anyway.
“Look,” he says after we’ve settled on a bench in the park, hot cocoa giving my hands feeling again. He lifts his wrist, showing me his watch. “It’s 10:31.”
“I know.” I grin big over my cup. “I’m breaking all sorts of rules now.”
“Such a rebel.”
I give him a playful punch to the arm. “Don’t make fun. Don’t you like this bizarro world Candace?”
His grin falters, and he rests his gaze on a few trees adorned in Christmas lights. “I don’t know why you didn’t like this world’s.”
“Seriously?” I snort. Normal Candace wouldn’t have done any of the stuff I did today. Pride rips strong in my chest, though that could be the cocoa.
“Yeah.” He meets my eyes. “She’s always been fun to work with.”
“You are lying straight through those whipped cream covered teeth.”
He licks his lips free from the whipped topping, and I can’t seem to stop grinning from ear to ear. It feels good to conquer something violet level… almost like I aced a test.
Carolers start singing from across the park, their voices a beautiful soundtrack to an already amazing night.
“So…?” Pete nudges, and I furrow my brow.
“What?”
He lets out a sigh. “What’s so wrong about being yourself?”
Oh. I didn’t realize he was actually asking. I stare down at my cocoa cup, running a finger around the rim. “It’s… lonely, I guess.” Not the answer I want to admit, but it’s honest. “Not many people can tolerate someone who is always pointing out flaws or rule-breaking.”
