by Lauren Runow
The sight of three men, standing tall with their hands behind their backs, wearing white masks, startles me. A trickle of unease sneaks its way back up my spine by the way their smooth masks wrap around their faces gives them the appearance of soulless attitudes. For a quick second, I question what’s really going on.
One man holds his hand out to me, not saying a word but waiting for me to reach for it in return.
I look at the other two, standing like statues on either side of him. When I don’t move, he raises his hand, pointing to something up high.
The same computer voice plays, “Change begins with us.”
His hand reaches for me, again.
“You must choose wisely,” the voice plays over the speakers.
I should run, screaming for help. It's not every day masked men approach you in a darkened club with strobe lights and intense music playing. Yet, there’s something about the way his head is tilted just slightly and his hand is curved that almost seems welcoming.
Timidly, I walk to him and place my hand in his. He quickly pulls me into his hard, muscular chest and says, “Good choice. The night has just begun.”
Before I know what’s happening, I’m whisked away through the back doors of the club where three motorcycles sit, waiting patiently for us to hop on.
When I'm handed a full-face helmet, I pause, momentarily scared to hop on the back. I've never ridden a motorcycle, and now, this mystery man is asking me to ride with him and put all my faith in the hands of a complete stranger.
I chuckle to myself at the thought of my mom handing me over to a prince she doesn’t know for marriage. To me, there's no difference, and if she’ll blindly want to do that, then I guess I have no reason not to, either.
Taking the helmet from him, I slip it over my head, smashing my recently curled hair but not giving a shit. This is my first night of true freedom, and I'm going to enjoy every minute without a care in the world.
He grabs a helmet that’s not a full face like mine; it’s more of what people refer to as a brain bucket. It’s then that I realize he has a black hat on backward, hiding his hair and covering the back of his neck, so I can’t see any skin peeking through.
I straddle the bike as my hands wrap around his waist.
Chills run up my spine when he grabs both of my hands, pulling them in tighter, saying, “Hold on. There's no such thing as maybe here.”
We arrive at an abandoned airfield twenty minutes outside of town. The ride was peaceful. He didn't pull any fast maneuvers or try to scare me, which helped put me at ease. As time passed, my death grip loosened, and a few times he let go of one handlebar intertwining his fingers with mine. It was a sweet gesture, turning our ride into something a bit more romantic. He'd remove it to downshift or turn at a fork in the road, but after a few minutes, his hand returned.
The summer air felt amazing on my skin, and I must admit, a tinge of regret ran through my body when we parked, and he motioned for me to get off.
After removing my helmet, I see utter darkness surrounding us once the bike’s headlights are switched off.
My guy reaches his hand out to mine. “Follow me.”
“What are we doing here? Is this some plot to murder me without witnesses?” I ask jokingly.
“If I was going to murder you, do you think I would have shut down the club and only invited you inside? Don't you think it'd be a dead giveaway who did it?”
My pulse races at the deepness of his voice and I have to focus to remember what I’m doing here. “No clue. Do the club owners even know who you are? For the right amount of cash, I’ve heard anyone will look the other way,” I deadpan, tilting my head to the side.
“Well, don't worry.” He wraps his hands around my waist, bringing me into him. My breath catches when I breathe in his intoxicating scent. “They do know who I am, and no, I'm not going to harm you. I wanted to show you something.”
“Here? This place has been abandoned for years.”
He leans in to whisper in my ear, “Not tonight.”
“Oh really? And you know this how?”
“Because I do,” he says, walking away from me and pulling my hand toward him.
His friends follow, staying silent as we make our way to the end of the broken and dilapidated runway, showing more weeds than asphalt. It's not until we quit moving that I notice one friend carrying something. He stops, opening it wide and laying a sheet down to cover the ground.
“For you,” my guy says. Holding out his hand, he motions for me to sit down.
I look at each of the men, curious about their intentions, but throwing caution to the wind, I take my place on the sheet. His friends sit directly on the ground a little way away from the sheet while he cuddles up next to me.
I watch as he pulls his phone from his back pocket, checking the time. A photo of who I could only imagine is him, skydiving and holding up rock-star fingers to the camera of someone obviously jumping next to him, catches my attention.
The photo makes me laugh to myself. He’s a little wild, and I like it.
“Just a few more minutes,” he says, placing his phone to the side and lying down.
I join the stranger on my back. At least I think he's a stranger. I still have no clue who this guy is, but there is something eerily familiar about him that I can’t put my finger on.
The longer the evening goes on, the more I don’t want to know. Tonight’s been exactly what I need, and I don’t want to burst this little bubble of excitement.
The only thing I do know is I’m enjoying a surprisingly comfortable silence, which is both refreshing and unusual.
Bright lights appear in the sky from a distance, and his hand slips into mine when he turns his head to me. “Get ready,” he proclaims.
As they approach his grip on my hand tightens.
My heart pounds as blood surges through my veins. Rushes of thrill and fear race through me as I turn toward him. My face says it all, and he lets out the sexiest laugh I've ever heard.
“Come here,” he says pulling me into his chest and wrapping his arms around me.
The protection he offers soothes me to my toes, and suddenly, my heart is pounding for a different reason. I tilt my head up toward him when the loudest sound I've ever heard takes over my world, and the ground starts to shake in response.
Suddenly, lights surround us along with the force of a wind stronger than anything I’ve ever felt. I turn into him, tightening my hold on his chest but not able to take my stare away from what's approaching.
Shouts of joy burst from his two friends, and just when I think I can't handle it anymore, a huge plane takes off from seemingly directly above us, causing the wind to triple in strength.
I can't help but scream with the most intense feeling of relief, amazement, and pure awe as I stare at the underbelly of a 747 lifting off the ground and back into the air.
The guys holler around me, celebrating our experience as I clutch my hand to my chest, still struggling to catch my breath. “What in the world?” I ask when I can finally speak.
“They were practicing touch and go’s,” he says, like that’s the only thing I’m questioning.
“Out here?” I ask in disbelief.
“Well...that might have been because of me,” he says nonchalantly.
“You? How did you—”
“Let's go. There's still more in store for tonight.”
I try to get up with shaky knees. His hand reaches out and lifts me straight into him.
“Are you up for more?” he asks with a sex-laced voice that makes my insides tingle.
“Who are you?” I search his eyes, but it’s so dark I can barely see the color.
“You’ll find out soon enough.”
“Then tell me, what’s all of this about?”
Nothing but a smile appears through his mask, and something tells me to stop asking questions and just play along. This could be the night of my life.
9
Everly
The song works its way up to the male singer yelling, “There's no such thing as maybe,” and now I know what he meant by that statement when I first hopped on.
He nods to his friends, and they speed off, both guys pulling a wheelie but thankfully mine keeps the tires on the ground.
We ride away from the airstrip to the opposite side of town. Once on a country road, the three of them play, racing around each other. One stands on his bike as it speeds down the road, while the other flips it forward doing a front wheelie stop before spinning it around in the middle of the street in front of us.
My guy slams on the breaks; narrowly avoiding him before yanking on the throttle, and in one swift movement pulls the bike up on its back wheel. I yelp in fear, holding on for dear life, and when the front touches back down, an adrenaline rush I've never felt runs through my veins as I shriek in joy. I'm so high on life that I pull him in tighter to me, asking him to do it again.
He nods in acknowledgment, letting go of one handlebar to grip my hand, pulling my arms even tighter around him. When he lets go of my hand, I hold on to his for a second too long, moving lower on his waist, and I swear something hard and long catches my attention.
His gruff laughter confirms my thoughts, but before I can say anything, he pulls the front tires off the ground and up in the air. Freedom, excitement, and exhilaration don't even come close to explaining the thrill of the experience.
The twinkling lights of the stadium just outside of town come into view, and they all make the left turn to head that direction simultaneously. Only a few of the parking lot lights are on, but otherwise, the place is empty.
They pull directly up to the fence that leads onto the field. The engines go silent, and we climb off the bikes. I go to remove my helmet, but he stops me before I can, turning me, so my back is to the stadium and handing me a mask similar to theirs.
“This place has cameras. Are you ready to be one of us?” he asks, his face showing no emotion through the mask, but his voice full of devilry.
The thin, white, almost foam-like mask lies flimsily in his hands. I glance down at it and then back at him in question. He starts to pull off the back, demonstrating how it works. I remove my helmet before taking it from him, peeling the rest away before he helps me position it on my face. His hands softly press around the edges of the foam, making sure it's secure. With every touch he gets closer, moving slower while we stand in silence.
My breath hitches when he stops, leaning in slightly like he's going to press his lips to mine but stops short, saying, “May I kiss you?”
“I, I don't, but… " I stutter, so damn flustered and unsure of how to respond. "W-who are you?” I blurt out.
“Does it really matter who I am?” he questions silkily before finally making his move, encasing me in his strong, powerful arms for a brief moment, before opening his mouth, sweeping his tongue with mine, and pulling me in even closer.
My body ignites in his arms, and my knees go weak from his touch.
He pulls away before I'm ready, whispering in my ear, “Now that we've felt sparks fly, let's go watch them.”
I shake my head in confusion but am unable to say anything before I'm whisked away. Meeting back up with the other two guys, who have removed the locks on the gate, we’re able to open them enough to get by.
One of them carries the backpack I noticed tied to his motorcycle while we all walk toward the center of the field. My guy reaches for my hand while saying to the other, “Joey, lights.”
He nods his response and runs off toward a building, slipping out of sight in the darkness surrounding us. I expect to be able to see more but instead, the few lights creeping in from the parking lot, go out.
With nothing other than the stars to guide our way, I look up, noticing how intense they shine out here, away from the city without anything to overshadow their strength.
With my hand in his, we move in silence to the middle of the field. Once there, the one with the backpack sets it on the ground and starts unloading sticks of some sort. Taking his time, he lines up one after another, evenly spacing them.
“What are those?” I ask, stepping forward to get a better view.
“Fireworks. Are you ready?” he asks, leaning down to whisper in my ear. “To watch the sparks fly?”
My heart flutters, and my breath hitches from his closeness.
“Light it up!” he yells to his friend once he pulls away.
In no time, a fuse is lit, and within seconds, crackling sounds echo around me before flares shoot up about ten feet in the air, illuminating the space around us for a few seconds.
Joey walks back to join us and produces a portable speaker from his backpack. “Did someone say light it up?” he asks while scrolling through his phone.
“Hell yeah!” the other one yells as he ignites the end of another firecracker. “Light up the sky!” he sings in tune with the song that Joey played as another burst of color explodes only a few feet above us.
I turn to my guy. “Are you all obsessed with Thousand Foot Krutch or what?” I ask, referencing our soundtrack for the night.
He leans down, swooping me in his arms and holding me close. It's dark all around us, but the moon shines off his white mask, reminding me I still have no clue who he is. But right here, right now, I would not change this moment for the world.
“Just about as obsessed as I am with a girl who sits on top of rocks at The Ridge,” he says, studying me.
I flinch, taken aback by his comment. I put my hand up to his chest, putting some space between us. “Wait, you watch me?” I'm not sure if I should be flattered or freaked out.
It doesn't seem to faze him. “Why do you think you're here right now? I wouldn't have gone through all this trouble if I wasn't intrigued by you.”
“Intrigued?” I ask, not sure what he meant by the comment.
“Yes. You always appeared so deep in thought, so free. I was curious what you thought about. Who you are.”
I pause as I take in his statements. Even Jeannine thinks it’s odd I sit there by myself as long as I do. At this moment, I get the sensation that someone finally gets me. He understands my need to be alone to clear my thoughts. But I still don’t understand. “So you brought me here to see who I was?”
“No, I brought you here to see if my intuition was right about you.”
“Intuition?”
“I needed to know if you would be down for anything. I got this vibe that you were bored with life and desired more.”
I lean back in, digging where this conversation is going. I'm sick of the same boring guys I've been dating with no adventure in their lives. So far, this has been the most interesting night I've had in a long time, if not ever.
“And you can give that to me?” I ask, wrapping my arms around his neck.
“With the right person by my side, the possibilities are endless.”
I arch a brow. “So you think I'm the right person?”
“That's yet to be determined, but the fact that you're here is a huge first step.”
We stare at each other in silence for a long, heated moment, and I find myself leaning toward him, suddenly desperate to feel his lips on mine again. But the moment is shattered when the boom of a firework shoots up, high in the sky in a long stream before exploding around us.
Both of us look up in surprise. He holds onto my shoulders, moving me slightly to the side so he can address his friend.
“What the fuck, Joey?” he growls, approaching him.
“Shit, I thought these were all shorter ones. I swear I didn't know we had any big ones like
that,” he states, holding up his hands in surrender.
His body language screams tension, but not at his friend, more the situation in general. He turns to his other friend. “Thoughts?”
“We should bail. The lights going out were risky enough.”
He doesn't reply, just nods, grabbing my hand as he heads out of the stadium. The other two quickly pack up the rest of the fireworks and are by our side by the time we get to the motorcycles.
Everyone's quiet, only moving with extreme purpose. Each of them oozes a sense of masculinity and authority I've never experienced. The trepidation of possibly getting caught sends chills down my spine, making my heart race. I hold on tightly when the tires squeal, and we speed down the road.
Everly
We turn onto the road from the parking lot only to be greeted by police beams filling the view in front of us and blocking our way out.
My guy yells out, “Hold on!”
I squeeze tightly as he flips the bike around, speeding through the parking lot, back to the stadium and weaving through the walkways. They regroup at the high peak of the paths.
“What's the plan?” Joey asks.
We all turn to see police cars waiting at the base of the walkways as well as the entrance. They turn to see the back of the stadium still void of police cars.
“The fence, right there. You still got the bolt cutters?” my guy asks.
“Yup,” Joey says, patting the backpack.
“Good. Go.” He tilts his head toward the gate while kicking the bike back into gear, and we all take off at top speed.
They get there seconds before we do and jump off, one pulling the gate open while the other cuts the lock to one side, opening it just enough for us to squeeze by.
He nods his thank you before twisting the throttle and speeding away.
With freedom in sight, the other two join us on either side. We exit through the last bunch of huge pillars that line the road, but before we can make our getaway, police cars come at us from every angle, circling us, so there's no escape.
