Page 47 of Trustfall

Just a little neighborly outing. Those are the only details I can give you, though. It’s this thing where I take you somewhere and you don’t know where it is until we get there.

Emory: You mean a surprise?

Guess so. If you need to slap a fancy label on it.

She sends a rolling eyeball emoji followed by one word:Okay. I quickly type out that I’ll be there in ten and dry my hair off with the towel. I pull on a pair of dark jeans and a white tee, then grab my leather jacket and gloves. I rummage around the closet, looking for my extra helmet and another leather jacket. As much as I can’t wait to get Emory on the back of my bike, I need to make sure she’s fully protected. I finally find my extra helmet shoved in the back.

As I take it out, I notice a business card on the closet floor next to my laundry hamper. It’s for one of the nurse managers at the psychiatric unit where my dad is. My mom gave it to me weeks ago, and it must have fallen out of the pocket of my jeans when I threw them in the hamper. She said if I didn’t want to visit him, I could always call, but I had to go through the nurse manager. Clearly, I didn’t take her suggestion. I place the card on my nightstand. Maybe if it’s there, the guilt will eat away at me enough every time I look at it that I’ll eventually make the call. I grab my extra jacket and head to the fridge, pulling out the cheese, crackers, and fruit I picked up last night and loading them into my backpack, along with a picnic blanket. I fill two water bottles, grab the helmets, and head out.

Emory opens her door wearing a long, flowy white and blue dress and tan sandals. Her hair is tied back in French braids, and her full lips glisten with subtle gloss. She’s always beautiful, but damn, she looks breathtaking right now. Unfortunately, she also looks like she’s going to a beach party. I guess I should have given her some information about what we were doing. I finish my slow and very obvious perusal of her body and take a step inside. She eyes me up and down right back, and I love how shameless she is about her attraction to me.

“What is that?” she asks, pointing to the leather jacket in my hand.

“A jacket.”

“Oh”

I chuckle. “It may be a little big, but I want that soft skin to be protected on my bike.”

“Your bike? I…I’ve never been on one before.”

“Do you want to?”

Her eyes light up with excitement, reminding me of the Emory I knew in high school. She’s still in there. That wild-eyed girl filled with wonder and fascination. The thrill-seeker who always insisted on tagging along with Nate and me to the amusement park and rode the biggest, scariest roller coasters. It makes me downright homicidal to think that some asshole took that from her, but the fact that I still see glimpses of that girl gives me hope that she’s still in there.

“Yes,” she says excitedly. Then she looks down. “I’m not exactly dressed for it, am I?”

“Nope.”

“And you’re still not going to tell me where we are going?”

“Nope,” I repeat. “Just change into comfortable pants, a T-shirt, and sneakers.”

“Got it. I’ll be right back.”

She disappears down the hallway, and I notice Allie sitting on the couch with her laptop, grumbling and cursing to herself. Not touching that with a ten-foot pole. Instead, I pretend to check something on my phone until Emory returns. She rounds the corner, now wearing black leggings and a heather grey t-shirt. She slips on white sneakers, and I hand her the extra jacket. It’s way too big for her, but at least it will protect her from the elements and road burn if we get into a crash. She shrugs it on and frowns.

“This is like five sizes too big. I look ridiculous,” she complains as she gestures to the jacket hanging well below her hips.

“You don’t look ridiculous. You look like mine,” I say, checking her out from head to toe. The mere sight of her in my jacket does things to me. Can I not spend five minutes in this girl’s company without popping a boner?

She blushes at my words but doesn’t respond as she grabs a small black purse, positioning it across her chest like a messenger bag. “Anything else I’ll need?” she asks.

“Nope. I have everything covered,” I say as I open the door and gesture for her to go out. When we get outside, I secure the helmet on her head before putting on my own gear.

“Do you mind wearing the backpack?” I ask.

“No problem,” she says, and I fix the straps on her shoulders.

“Good, because I can’t wear two,” I say, winking at her.

She blushes as I help her on the back of my bike before hopping on myself. She doesn’t move to hold me, so I gently take her arms and position them around my waist. “Don’t let go. Even if we’re stopped. Understand?”

“Yes, sir,” she says as she salutes me. I roll my eyes, but fuck if I don’t get another semi from hearing her call me ‘sir.’ I start the engine, and the bike roars to life.

I’ve had this bike for about five years now, and I have never had a woman on the back of it. I gave Nate a ride a few times when he came to visit, but I’ve never felt the need or desire to have anyone else ride with me. Until now. I sneak a quick glance behind me as soon as we get onto the main road. I can’t see her expression through the helmet, but I can see her braids snaking out beneath it, her hands clasped tightly around my waist.

We cruise along the winding back roads for a while, and then I turn towards the highway. I merge onto the road, feeling her hands to ensure they are still secure around me. As I accelerate, the world blurs around us, and I feel Emory’s breathing pick up. She’s a little scared. Or maybe exhilarated. The warmth from her body bleeds into me, her hold tightening ever so slightly. I reach back and rub her leg for a second, just to let her know she’s safe. Her breathing slows as she relaxes a little. A few exits later, we leave the highway and veer off onto a back road. We pull into a parking lot right next to the trailhead, and I kill the engine.

---