Head Over Wheels (Spicy Young Romance)

by January Valentine

  The bum bum beat, blasting from the living room, jarred me back to reality.

  "Oh God, Em!" I wanted to scream, but she'd never notice above the racket.

  Grumbling, yawning, I rolled out of bed, stuck my feet into fuzzy slippers and pulled the door open. When I entered the living room, what I found was no surprise: Emma bouncing around the floor as if made of rubber, working her butt off, or rather, on.

  "Why are you exercising?" I stood in my sleep-ravaged Hello Kitty's, rubbing crud from my eyes as I watched her work everything she owned.

  "Why not?" she panted.

  "We're bike-a-thon-ing today. Have you forgotten the event that was your bright idea in the first place? Shit. The last thing I feel like doing today is sitting on that hard, skinny seat. Even with this padding." I twisted at the waist, smacking a curved palm against one of my basketball butt cheeks. "Do they make crotch guards?"

  "I got you a gel seat." She let out a burst of air, followed by a moan.

  "How about training wheels? I haven't been on a bike since I was a kid," I mumbled. Unlike Emma, an energetic morning person, I was often cranky. "I'm nervous. I think I'm gonna make an ass of myself."

  The music stopped and Emma stood beside me in the tidy kitchen. "Don't worry. I'll catch you if you fall." She chuckled. "It's a perfect day for cycling. Is Pete coming?"

  "Seriously? At this hour, he's probably sleeping off last night. And besides, he told me he's got wheels that don't need peddling." Thinking of him posing on his Harley, I smiled. He was such a teddy bear. Still, the bike made him look rough and tumble, which of course he could easily be with anyone who crossed him.

  Emma poured two glasses of orange juice. When I went to the freezer to grab a box of microwave waffles, she slapped my hand. "I'll handle breakfast. You get dressed." Before leaving the room, I watched as she reached for a carton of eggs and a loaf of whole grain bread. "Make sure you're covered from head to toe." She giggled, her hips still swaying. "I don't want to be patching you up tonight, listening to you spout off profanity in Spanish."

  I stood my ground, staring, but not really seeing Em.

  "Will you get dressed so we're not late?" She cracked two eggs that sizzled the moment they hit the frying pan. "What time did you get in, anyway?"

  "After midnight. Can't you tell by my tude?"

  "You're always this way."

  The toast popped as I retreated from the room, and Emma's stern gaze, but heard her call out, "How was the movie?"

  "I don't know," my voice was muffled by my closet. "I was with Pete, remember?"

  The aroma of breakfast lit a fire under me as I dressed."Who gives a shit about a few scrapes and bruises," I grumbled on my way from my bedroom. "So what if I look like an ass. It's for a good cause. Kids and illness should never be synonymous." The image of sick children made my heart sink. I thought of Poughkeepsie, my mom and dad and healthy siblings, especially my youngest sister who enjoyed rolling around the floor with her birthday terrier she'd named Poncho.

  My cell chimed.

  Pete: Hey Kit Kat What's up?

  Me: Hey Mounting my bike

  Pete: Sounds interesting Shoot over a pic

  Me: In this Martian helmet? Fat chance

  Pete: May stop by later Gotta see this

  Me: Rescue me I'll dump the cycle and hop on the Harley

  Pete: You'll be fine

  Me: Right

  Emma and I rode our bikes through city streets, bringing us uptown and into the park entrance, the starting point of the event. Emma was right. The day turned out to be perfect for outdoor activities. A cool breeze made the bright sun tolerable. And the humidity was low, thank goodness, because coated in sweaty spandex might prove as bad as holding a pee on a packed train car. That was how I normally traveled to the suburbs – the Hudson Line, minus the pee, of course. Who even needed an auto in the city? If things worked out today, I might even join the scores of NYC cyclist commuters.

  In single file, other cyclists joined us, and we merged into a colorful procession. Riding turned out to be a simpler task than I'd thought it would be, still, my equilibrium was less than perfectly balanced. I enjoyed the glide of the spinning wheels, and guiding the bike around pot holes, but a half hour in, my calves and thighs began to feel the rhythmic pump of my peddling feet. That's when the trail finally smoothed, opening up into the picturesque park that resembled a blooming orchard on rolling fields. I rode beside Emma, who proved to be a pro at just about everything.

  "Weee," I squealed, gaining the confidence to scoot in front of her. She laughed when my front wheel began to wobble as it sideswiped a rock in its path and I eased off the pedal to coast beside her.

  "Careful, Jewel. And look out. Seems to be a traffic jam ahead. With so many bikes, concentration is essential. None of your classic clowning today." She twisted her head for an instant, shooting me a phony scowl.

  Two mountain bikes rested against trees, as far off the trail as shrubbery permitted. Masses of others pedaled past them. Emma and I appeared to be the only rubberneckers, gawking out of general curiosity, then stalled by the striking bodies of the two hot cyclists with the best butts I'd ever seen. Or was it the padding? Either way, these guys were impossible to ignore.

  Without the need for words, Emma and I were in tune. We rolled up on our bikes a safe distance behind theirs and hopped off, prepared to offer our help, should they need it.

  "Holy shit." I tried to be as inconspicuous as possible while trying to fit my words between Emma's blue helmet and one of her ears. "It's him," I whispered. My sneakers sinking into spongy grass, I took a quick step back.

  We whipped off our helmets simultaneously and set them on our bikes, ogling college Joe who lifted his buddy's rear wheel off the grass while the guy reattached the chain that hung loose at ground level.

  "What did you say?" Emma whispered back.

  My lips pressed to her ear. "College Joe. You know, the memory bank guy from Kelly's? Damn, I sent you his pic!"

  "I'm not looking at his face." She grinned. "Are you gonna just stand there or do something already?"

  "What would you like me to do?" I demanded. All I needed was for him to turn and see Em and me arguing. Why did things turn catastrophic whenever he was around? I looked toward heaven. "Grandma, is it you again?"

  "What are you talking about?" Em cocked an ear.

  "Nothing." My whisper came out harsh. "We can't just stand here, Em. Think of something, will you? Because I just spaced, and we look like two idiots posing here like this, mumbling to each other."

  At that, we burst into stifled laughter, and things began to fall into place. We balanced our bikes against bordering trees, discreetly discussing exactly how to approach the opportunity.

  "I can't believe this is happening." My heart bounced in my chest. "There's no way I'm gonna blow this chance. I managed to slow the rapid beats, but my stomach fluttered. "I feel like I have to take a ..."

  "Don't." Emma held a hand over her mouth. "The look on your face is killing me."

  "Thanks, friend."

  "Well, pull yourself together, girl. I've never seen you this way."

  "That's because I've never been this way, wise-ass."

  "Don't get flippant, biatch."

  During our entire exchange we lurked behind them, arms folded over our chests, looking like petite imitations of Pete when he leaned casually on his Harley. Only I wasn't casual. I was practically frantic. "How can I pull this off?"

  He'd appeared interested at Kelly's coffee house, where from across a crowded room, my confidence level had soared. But we were now in the wide open park. Nothing around us but cyclists, sprouting foliage, and clear blue skies. I took a quick survey of the surrounding area. No blonde bimbo. Yes! Okay, Jewel. You've got one shot at this.

  "First of all, stay cool." Emma looked comically bug-eyed.

  "I'm trying." I grit my teeth. "Don't you know it's a scientific fact that people get angrier when you tell them to chill? So
give me some good advice instead, before I explode."

  Emma laughed at my exasperation. "Just do your thing, girl. I know you've got it in you."

  "Do I shake my booty? This guy seems pretty intellectual ..."

  "Hell, all guys like asses. Get going before it's too late." She gave me one of her lightweight shoves.

  I jabbed her arm and lifted a brow, making a mental note: do not suck on the inside of your cheek, or worse, chew on either one of your lips. "Here goes. Wish me luck."

  "Good luck already."

  Taking a deep breath, faking cool and casual, I moseyed toward him. He must have sensed my approach, because he turned before I arrived at his side.

  Still holding the bike off the ground he did a double-take, then quickly recovered from his state of shock. My heart thumped a few times, and my swallow went so deep it almost reached my stomach, which threatened to growl. Concerned about another banana peel incident, I became overly aware of the terrain, and kept checking my feet, but each time I surfaced, his eyes were aimed at me.

  I saw his head hitch left, hook right, even swing around behind him. Then I was the target again. He had the most talkative eyes I'd ever seen: come on, baby ― keep your distance ― move it, will you? ― hold it right there. Hell, his eyes wouldn't have let me take another direction if I'd wanted to.

  His lips finally decided to spring into a grin. And there they were, up close and unfathomable ... those elusive eyes, trained on me as though I were a late flight. My legs could have buckled, but I was too stubborn to let them. And I refused to send out any butterfly messages.

  "Hey there," he said. The voice. I finally heard the voice without the interference of chattering customers. And just as I'd imagined: indulgent, saturating, a perfect match for the guy who'd left me speechless in Kelly's a few days earlier. But today I was determined to chew his ear off. Well ... at least be able to respond to him.

  "Hey. Need help?" As if ... Like he'd really need my help.

  "Sure. Whatcha got in mind?" The way his biceps tightened, bulging through his shirt when his arms strained, was mind-blowing. And just looking was blowing my mind. Dear Lord, I'll be good for the rest of my life. Help, please ...

  "Mocha latte, right?" One side of his grin grew more than the other, then he moved his attention from me to his friend who was wrapping the chain around the crank. "Let me know when you're ready. Need it higher?"

  "Nah. It'll only take a minute," the friend replied, shooting a glance at me.

  As if inspecting, I moved closer to the disabled bike, and Joe's side. "Broken chain, huh?" So dumb. It's obvious, you nitwit.

  "Didn't snap." He faced me again, this time his eyes slipping from my smile to the skin-tight spandex I wore. "Just loosened up a bit."

  I sensed his approval, but there was so much more going on behind his stare. I brushed my fingers through my helmet-headed hair attempting to fluff it into some sort of feminine aura. God, could this get any worse? "Oh. That's good. Can you fix it?" If not, my ride's just around the corner ... Ha.

  "Sure. He needs to catch the teeth, then backpedal to lock it in place. No big deal." I shared his gaze with the tire. "So you're part of the event, huh?" He angled his head, one eye closed to block out the sun, the other squinting at me.

  "Um, yeah. You too?"

  More approval. “Yep. Enjoying the day. How about you?”

  “Oh yeah, I just love these events.”

  Perspiration glistened on his forehead and his neck when he turned. He must have finger-brushed his hair again, because it fell in disarray. He looked overheated. Why not? We'd all be feeling the heat soon. And breaking down wasn't the best way to begin a cycling event.

  "Would you like a bottle of water? I have some ..." I motioned to my bike, and Emma, who hadn't moved from beneath the cover of an elm branch.

  “Sure. We should be finished here in a few minutes. I could use a break. We've been riding since sunrise."

  "Sunrise?" I gulped. "Either you wanted to get an early start ... or we're very late."

  He laughed. "I rode my bike down from Westchester. We hit some trails before heading over here."

  "Sounds very energetic."

  "Exhausting, you mean."

  "So, you bike a lot?"

  "Every chance I get, which isn't often enough. How about you?"

  "Me?" Think quick, Jewel.

  "Nah. You'd rather be cruising in your Porsche. Am I right?"

  "Yeah, sure. That's me. Touring Manhattan in my 911."

  He laughed again. "Kidding aside. Cycling's amazing. Fresh air. Great for the body. Perfect for getting as close to nature as possible."

  "Like taking long walks after dinner, I guess. Good for digestion and all." I shrugged. How dumb do you sound? Talking about bodily functions? Next you'll be telling him you sometimes pass gas when you do sit-ups.

  "Even better, since you can go further on a bike. Do more sightseeing. I'd ride cross country if I had the time."

  "I'll take the Porsche." My lips squeezed together, showing off my dimples."Now, if you were talking beaches ... then I'd be more likely to go further."

  "So you like the beach, huh?"

  "Who doesn't?"

  I turned my gaze to Emma, who looked stunned, her stare glued to the squatting guy fumbling with the chain.

  Her expression told me she was enjoying more than the nature blooming around us. Something else radiated across her face. Let me guess. He's so hot you're intimidated? Never happen ...With a flip of my wrist I waved her on, nodding encouragingly while acting as nonchalant as humanly possible.

  Emma, exquisitely statuesque, finally managed a tight head-shake. Cracking a grin, she mouthed something.

  "No way," I mouthed back after making certain the guys weren't in a position to intercept our miming conversation.

  Yes way. The arch of her lips widened. She appeared to be thawing out.

  TRAFFIC JAM… WOW

  In the distance a clear stream poured over rocks, around curves, disappearing behind a knoll. I longed to strip off my spandex, douse every inch of my body with cool water. By that point in our journey, I'd have been heading home for an ice-cold shower had it not been for college Joe.

  His charcoal shirt deepened the gray in his eyes, highlighting the blue. I'd been right. Chameleon eyes, changing tone with the colors he wore. He really was a gorgeous specimen: tall and powerfully built, with tousled hair, tanned skin, straight nose and full lips.

  Shifting from foot to foot, I watched him, feeling like a gravel on a sidewalk, trying to drum up interesting conversation. “It’s starting to get pretty hot,” I said as I gripped the bottom hem of my clinging T-shirt. I shook it away from my body, not intending to show off any part of my D cups, or skin. But from his angle, he might have caught a slice of my bare midriff.

  "Sure is." Smiling, his gaze moved from my stomach to my face, and his lashes fanned those smoldering eyes, drawing me too close for comfort. "Yeah ... " he nodded, "I remember you from Kelly's," slipped easily through his lips, and I almost fainted on the spot. "Who could forget someone like ... a fellow mocha latte drinker." Then his expression grew guarded, and he turned away, fidgeting with the tire before lowering it to the ground. I thought he flushed, but it could have been the rising heat of the day.

  He had to be used to girls flocking to his side on a daily basis. Daily? How about hourly? What was with the shy act? If that's what it was ... Or could it be disinterest? I felt so inadequate, my stomach clenched. He was like the 18K gold necklace I longed for, something I might be able to caress, but never call my own. Why was I even bothering? Then I heard my dad's words, with the utmost affection and pride, telling me, "Jewelia, you're a scrapper. A survivor." What the hell? I was here. Why not? I might as well live up to my name and make him proud ... but the thoughts brewing in my head made me cringe. Don't listen, Dad ...

  His friend stood and stretched his back, then brushed off his hands. "I think it'll hold." His attention turned to me, his eyes ta
king the same path Joe's had taken not more than five minutes earlier. "Hey," he said. "How's it going?" As he spoke he flexed the muscles of his neck, creating a flirty head-jerk. I couldn't help but notice how Joe observed his every move, kind of calculating, but remained silent.

  "Hey. I'm Jewelia." What made me more comfortable with friend? I held out my hand. Ready to do Emma the biggest favor of her life, and let him know he wasn't my choice, I bopped my head in her direction. "That's Emma up there, holding up that tree."

  He chuckled and his eyes followed mine. Apparently Emma had been watching, because the smile I'd left her with lingered, but now her brow lifted. I gave her the eye, hoping she'd hurry over before the opportunity died, along with my hopes.

  "How are you doing, Jewelia? I'm Bill." He released his bike and gripped my hand. His attention, suddenly captured by Em, seemed to tighten his expression, along with his fingers that almost crushed mine. Am I missing something here?

  "I'm great," I replied, although I seemed to be the last thing on his mind.

  College Joe stood at his side, still taking it all in, then dropped himself into the conversation. "I'm Indigo." He took a step forward and reached for my hand. I scrutinized his gaze, imagining him to be thinking: "Where have you been all my life?"

  The concept, and physical contact, jolted me. I had to keep the phew from puffing though my lips, and hoped my palm didn't feel clammy. "Nice to meet you." My voice was as light as the breath I was holding.

  "Jewelia ..." Surrounded by his deep voice, I'd just been airbrushed by my own name. "Jewelia ..." he deliberated, "very pretty." Did he have to repeat it? My legs almost buckled. The purse of his lips made it sound prettier than ever.

  "Indigo ... unusual." I must have appeared confused, because he immediately pointed out with a grin, "My name is James Ballou ... properly pronounced, blue, which obviously morphed into Indigo," he let out the cutest combination of a humph and chuckle, "and it stuck. My friends rarely call me James."

  "Then I'll be sure to call you Indigo. My friends call me Jewel." Lost in his eyes, the flirt slipped easily through my lips.