by Laura Ward
“Hey,” she moved to stand in front of me. “How do you think the test went?”
I shrugged. “Pretty good. You?”
She shrugged as well, shooting me a tiny smile. “I knew most of the information. It’s not hard to study when the class is interesting.”
I nodded, my stance relaxing despite myself. “That’s true.” I started to move around her, but she placed a hand on my forearm.
“Would you like to get a cup of coffee?” Her small face looked up at me with apprehension. If I had to guess, asking that question took a lot of nerve.
The right response would be no. The decent thing to do would be to pretend I never met her, never heard her story. But, I had. And I wanted to know more. I wanted the answers that only getting to know her would bring me.
Aveline fidgeted, pulling on her fingers and lifting onto her toes.
“Coffee sounds good.” I watched her face light up instantly.
Shit, fuck, fuck.
We walked into the garage, stopping where her car and my bike were parked.
“Could I ride with you… on your bike?” Her lips twisted as she watched my reaction.
I crossed my arms over my chest. No way. No how. That was a line I would not cross. “I, uh, it’s kind of cold.” I said, my voice firm and strong. Her little pixie face fell and with it some of my resolve.
She studied her feet and avoided eye contact. “Oh sure. It’s just that I saw you on it the other day and it looks amazing. I’ve never been on a bike before, but I’ve always wanted to try it.”
Crap. My bike was my soft spot, for sure. I mean, who wouldn’t want to ride on the back of that machine? She clasped her hands in front of her, fingers folded into a prayer position, and chewed on her bottom lip. Damn, she was cute. But I couldn’t do this. Only girls I hooked up with ever rode behind me. Like it or not, the experience was intimate. Feeling her body behind me would be wrong. So wrong.
Aveline’s shoulders crept higher and she mouthed “please”. I eyed her outfit. Jeans, a thick jacket, and some kind of boots. I think my sisters called them booties. Whatever. It would work.
“Toss your bag in your car and you can hop on with me. I’ll swing back here after coffee and you can grab your car.” I gave in, but I steeled my reaction. She needed no reason to think I even remotely liked this.
“Oh my gosh!” She clapped her hands together, jumping up and down. “Yay!” A part of me wanted to roll my eyes at her exuberance and innocence, but I refrained. At least her emotion seemed genuine.
Aveline opened her trunk and tossed in her bag. She placed her keys in a small purse, crossing the strap over one shoulder and across her body.
At my bike, I secured my bag in the carry-on compartment and swung a leg over to steady the body. “When you’re on behind me, stay with my body on turns. Don’t lean or put your feet down.”
Her eyes were wide, and she looked terrified, but she didn’t change her mind. I handed her a helmet and she snapped it into place.
“Give me your hand.” I held mine out and she slipped her small, cold hand into my grip. “Now swing your leg over and then scoot forward until your front is pressed up against my back.” I waited until she had done just that. “Now wrap your hands tight around my waist. Hold on.”
Her petite frame was plastered to my back and when her arms wrapped around me, her fists clutching my t-shirt under my jacket, I regretted everything about this decision. But it was too late. I turned the key in the ignition and lead the bike back out of the space where I’d parked.
“You ready?” I yelled over my shoulder.
“Yes!” She answered, clutching my shirt a bit tighter.
I took off, the engine roaring, dipping the bike as we rounded the corners leaving the garage. I gunned the engine and we were flying down the road. Riding my bike was the only time in my life that I truly felt free.
Aveline’s body shook behind me and I stilled, worried that she was crying, too scared of this beast of a bike. But then she called out, a loud whoop of joy, and I realized she was laughing.
She felt it too. The freedom that the rush of open-air brought you, right down to your soul. Maybe there was another layer to Aveline hiding behind the designer clothes and fancy bags. And if so, I hoped she let it free. In fact, I needed her to.
* * *
I RODE AROUND a little longer than necessary, but finally pulled in front of a small family run coffee shop. I waited for Aveline to dismount and when I was off, she unsnapped her helmet, handing it to me.
“Oh Lord, I have helmet hair,” she said with a laugh. Her hands moved quickly, unwrapping the bun that secured her hair and I froze as wave after wave of beautiful brown hair cascaded around her shoulders. She used her hands to tame the wild waves. “Sorry, I must look like a mess. That was worth it, though. I loved every second on the back of that bike.”
No amount of inner strength could keep me from smiling at her. I loved that at the very least, we shared that positive thing in common.
“Glad to hear that. C’mon, let’s get some coffee and warm up.” I opened the door and she walked past me, her light, floral scent filling my nostrils.
We placed our orders and found a small round table in the corner.
“I asked you for coffee. You should have let me pay.” Aveline pursed her lips and I held back a chuckle. Her pout was cute too.
Damn, shit, damn.
“I wanted to get the coffee.” I pulled out her chair and the pout morphed right into a grin again.
“Thank you,” she said. As soon as she was seated, she unzipped her coat, slipping it off her shoulders and resting it on the back of the chair.
My eyes widened as I focused on her skin-tight, form-fitting light gray top. Her figure was petite, but she had perfect tits. Exactly how I liked them—round, high, not too big, not too small.
Between the wavy hair, tight top, and love of my bike, I might have been wrong about Aveline not being my type.
I was in some serious trouble.
A server placed our coffees in front of us and we both added sugar and milk, stirring and sipping before talking.
I held onto the mug, using the warmth and familiar aroma to ground me. “What’s your degree in? I forgot to ask you that the other day.”
Aveline set her cup down. “I have a bachelor’s degree in Sign Language Interpretation and Translation.”
I straightened, my forehead wrinkling in surprise. “Wow. That’s different. What made you choose that major?”
Aveline hesitated, taking a sip of coffee before answering. “Sign Language has always interested me, I guess. What about you? What is your associate’s degree in?”
“Business. Not my passion, but I figure in the long run it’ll pay the most.” I sat back, my fingers running up and around the handle of the mug.
When I looked up at Aveline, her lips were turned down. “What’s your passion? If you could do anything what would it be?” Her eyes were searching mine.
I studied the cup in my hands. This was tough to say. I didn’t say shit like this to anyone, always choosing to keep it inside. “For a long time, I would’ve answered ‘play football’. That’s what I did all my life until I graduated high school. I had a full ride to Indiana University to play, too. Right along with my best friends. But that wasn’t in the cards.”
“Why?” Her question was faint. Was she afraid to hear the answer?
“My family can’t make ends meet without me working. If I was away at college, they couldn’t put food on the table. There was no other option.” My voice was gruff. The truth was what it was, but it still hurt to say out loud.
Aveline reached for my hand, but retreated, strumming her fingers on the table. “I’m sorry, Ricky. That must have been hard to give up a college scholarship doing something you love.”
My answering nod was minute.
She thankfully moved on from that line of questioning. “Do you have a big family?”
“Two sisters,
Mom and Dad. What about you?” This was where I wanted the conversation to go. Toward her and her life. Her parents.
She sipped her coffee before answering. “I’m an only child. My parents are professors.”
My eyebrows furrowed at her answer. “If your parents are in education, why did you go to college online? Wouldn’t they want you to experience a traditional school setting?”
She nodded, her fingers tracing her collar bone. “One would think. But they are very, very, protective of me. To an extreme. I was homeschooled my whole life. This is my first school experience outside my home… ever. It’s also why I’ve never had a job before.” She blushed, looking down into her coffee mug and avoiding my gaze.
This time, without thought or planning, my fingers found hers. I reached out, wrapping her small hand in mine. Heat filled my veins, running from my hand up my arm.
“I’m sorry.” I mirrored the words she used to try and ease my discomfort. “That must’ve been hard, spending much of your life secluded, at home.”
Her eyes shined with unshed tears and she squeezed my hand in return. “It was. My life has been… quiet. Part of why I wanted to be a sign language interpreter was to give others the voice they might not have ever had.”
The breath left my lungs in a rush of air. Holy shit. Aveline was different than I thought. Her parents were another story. They were who I could focus my anger and vengeance on, but Aveline really was innocent.
“I think that’s why I loved riding on the back of your bike. I’ve spent a lot of time alone, controlled, trapped. I’ve never felt so free.” She clung to my hand like it was her buoy in a stormy sea.
I cleared my throat before I could answer her. “You asked me what my passion is now. What I would do if I could do anything?”
She nodded, the hand not holding mine, still tracing her collar bone.
“I’d build motorcycles. Like you said, it’s the only time in my life I’ve ever felt free.” The words sounded raw even to me, the confession one that went deeper than she even knew.
But one thing was crystal clear. Aveline was special. I instantly felt protective of her. I’d watch over her while I got what I needed from her parents. That was my top priority.
Right along with taking Aveline for more rides on the back of my bike.
Freedom for both of us.
Chapter Thirteen
Aveline
DRESSING FOR THE day, I took time to pick out a red cashmere sweater, flared jeans, and a ruby necklace Dad gave me last Christmas along with matching earrings.
I’d never had a reason to dress festively before, but this year I was excited to. After a thousand replays of my coffee date, wait—was coffee with Ricky a date? Not a real date per se, but he did drive me there and he paid. I tried to pay, but he insisted and then held my hand at the table. Yes, holding hands definitely crossed out of friend land and into date territory. Didn’t it?
I wasn’t sure what was causing my new obsession with all things angry Latino man, but I did know it was more than his dangerous, sexy looks. That was a part of it. I wasn’t blind, and I did have hormones, so his appearance was certainly noticed.
Oh, and the motorcycle thing? A plus and a check in the sexy column for sure.
But when I gathered the nerve to ask him out, it was after I saw him interact with the homeless man. Tough and gruff Ricky moved to look him in the eye, gave him money I was pretty sure wasn’t easy to part with, and then shook his hand and made an introduction. He treated that man like his equal, and that moved me to my core.
Maybe it was because people often looked at my parents like they must have other disabilities besides hearing loss, speaking slowly and loudly, or looked at them like trying to communicate with them was a waste of time and energy.
Maybe it was that my parents and I had volunteered in soup kitchens outside of our neighborhood for years. When I saw him extend the kindness and offer him directions to a shelter, Ricky reached a part of me deep in my soul that knew we shared a connection of kindness.
Driving to class today, I practiced what I would say. I wanted to take a chance with Ricky that I hadn’t with anyone else. Being vulnerable around a guy like him was never an option. Not until I saw the way he treated that man. If he could be that gentle and that sensitive, maybe he could give someone like me a shot, too.
If I didn’t ask, I’d never know, right?
Right.
Chapter Fourteen
Aveline
“HAPPY VALENTINE’S DAY.” I shuffled down Ricky’s row, settling into the seat next to him, and not even bothering to ask him if he minded. Each of my actions bold and I got a rush of empowerment that kept me going.
Ricky’s head jolted at my words. He squinted, and his lips pressed flat. “What’s that?” He cleared his throat before continuing. “Your voice is quiet, I missed what you said.”
I smiled, opening my laptop and powering it on. “I said, happy Valentine’s Day. It’s today. So…” My words trailed off as my nerves settled in. Why would he feel the need to respond in kind? He probably had a girlfriend, or at least a hot date to ring in a night that celebrated lovers.
God, lovers—the word made my body flush with warmth. My eyes drifted to his jean clad legs extended in front of him. Legs long, muscles so thick that the cut of his quads could be seen under the layer of clothing. His size and strength excited me and summoned protection. Imagining both physical and emotional intimacy with him made my skin pebble with goose bumps.
“Are you cold?” Ricky’s eyes traveled up and down my arms and chest. “You shivered.” Without waiting for my response, he shrugged out of his worn leather jacket, draping it around my shoulders.
My eyes closed as his scent enveloped me. The leather, the hint of cinnamon, the touch of cologne and underlying smell of gas, all mingled together into something incredibly male. I shivered again. My body was reacting to him in a way it never had with anyone ever before. The sight of him, the sound of his voice, and his smell had me picturing things I had only read about.
Things that I wanted to discover very much.
I crossed my legs, tightening the muscles between them to alleviate some of the ache.
“You shivered again. Are you feeling okay?” Ricky’s fingers ghosted across my face, landing briefly on my forehead as he pressed the skin searching for fever.
“I’m fine. Just fine.” My grin wobbled as I pushed my glasses up higher on my nose.
Ricky squinted again as he studied my face. Finally, he relaxed, bringing his hand down to my desktop, his lips curving. “I had no idea about today. Not really my thing. But, uh, happy Valentine’s Day to you too.”
I brought my hand down, right next to where his sat. My fingers twitched, itching to wander over and hold his. The sight of our hands next to each other filled me with curiosity. A case study in opposites one might say. His hands were large, with light brown skin. Mine were small and delicate in comparison and my skin so white it almost appeared translucent under the fluorescent lights of the classroom. His veins thick and protruding. Mine small and blue. Black tattoos marked his skin, my skin was free of any ink. His hands were almost always clenched into fists, always ready for battle it seemed, even in class. Mine rested flat, ready for contact—always used for communication and for touch.
In a silent home like mine, I was raised understanding love through touch. I was held, hugged, kissed, and snuggled. A rub on the shoulder, kiss on the head, or a pat on the back were frequent reminders of our ever-present connection. Sitting here it was difficult not to pass that connection on to Ricky.
The contrast of our hands caused a giggle to burst out of my mouth. Ricky startled, his face crinkled in confusion, lips unable to hold back a small grin.
I gave up the fight. As if I were watching strangers and not moving of my own volition, my hand covered Ricky’s fist, hoping to offer something to him. What? I wasn’t sure. Peace? Companionship? Something more than friendship, for sure.
&n
bsp; I waited for Ricky’s reaction to my bold move. His eyes lightened for a second before he, too, focused on our hands. As he watched, I wondered if he noticed the striking differences like I did. What fascinated me, though, was the myriad of emotion his eyes showed me. First was that gentle softening, flashing a hard look next, followed by them closing for a brief moment, and when they opened again, I saw determination.
“Class, let’s begin today’s discussion with Piaget’s theories on cognitive development, particularly child development.” Dr. Redmond’s voice brought me back to reality and out of my deep personal examination of all things Ricky. We moved away from each other at the same time. My fingers settled on my keyboard, his with a pencil in hand.
For the next hour, I forced my mind to absorb the complex findings of Piaget and not the complex man sitting next to me.
* * *
“DO YOU HAVE any plans?” Ricky’s gravelly voice was not what I expected to hear after Dr. Redmond’s lecture ended.
“In life? Today? Next week?” I giggled, bumping my elbow gently against Ricky’s upper arm. “You’ll have to be more specific.”
Was I… flirting? I mean, I had practiced. In the shower, in front of my mirror, in the car. I always sounded weird. Now? Clearly, I was no expert, but I thought I sounded okay.
Ricky’s eyes widened, and he shook his head. “Good point, there. Sorry, I was talking about right now. Would you like to do something? It’s Valentine’s Day, right?” Ricky moved out from his chair, putting his notebook and pencil in his backpack.
I followed, gathering his leather jacket. Resisting the urge to bury my nose in it, I returned it to him. “Thanks for that. It kept me very warm.”
