Page 22 of Falcon

Chapter 6

Faith

My room looks like a clothing store exploded in it. A multi-fabric, multicolored bomb. I’ve changed clothes at least fifteen times, unsure of what to wear. I don’t want to seem like I’m trying too hard, because Lord knows I’m not, but I don’t want to be a slob either. It’s nice to be told you look nice sometimes.

I stand in front of the mirror and finally settle on denim shorts and a black, off-the-shoulder top. I’ve kept my hair easy, just leaving it in loose waves, and my makeup is minimal with just some mascara and some gloss. I slip my feet into a pair of black Doc Martens and gather my things to put in my purse.

Extra gloss? Check.

Hand sanitizer? Check.

Gum? Check.

Pepper spray? Double check. You can never be too careful. Ever.

Slipping the crossbody bag on, I spray the finishing touch of perfume on to my neck when my doorbell sounds.

I check the time on my phone. He’s right on time. Great. He’s easy on the eyes, sweet, and punctual.

With a final check to make sure I have everything, I leave my bedroom and make my way to the door, pulling it open.

My stomach falls to my feet and my heart jumps into my throat.

If I thought he was scrumptious before, the man before me is downright delectable.

He’s wearing dark washed blue jeans and a crisp white button-down. The sleeves are rolled up to his elbows, once again showing off his beautiful ink, and his short hair is styled messily. Like he just woke up like this, but it’s perfect.

“Wow, Faith. You look…wow.”

“Thank you. You clean up pretty nicely yourself.” I clear my throat. “So should we go?”

“Yes, but you’ll need something first.” He turns to pick up something from the steps and holds it out to me.

“Um…what?”

I stare at the pale purple motorcycle helmet he is offering me like it has thorns.

“You’re going to need this if we are going to go anywhere.” He gives it another little wiggle.

“You want me to go on the bike with you?” I reach out and take the helmet with both hands. “And why do you have a purple helmet?”

“Well, yes, I’d love to take you for a ride on my bike, and as for the helmet, I went out earlier today and got one for you. I only have the one for me, so I figured you’d need one.”

“Purple?”

“I saw the color of your flowers on your tattoo, on the porch that day. I thought if you liked the color enough to have it on your body forever, it was a safe choice.”

I look down at the front of my right thigh to my one and only tattoo. A pale purple orchid.

I got it five years ago as a reminder to be strong. To never live in the past and to be free of anything that could hold me down.

And the fact he used it as inspiration makes me tingle from head to toe.

“I’ve never ridden a motorcycle before.”

“Lucky for you. I’m a pro.”

He offers me his hand and with only a small hesitation, I take it.

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