Page 21 of Kiss Me, Maybe

I flinch from a new pain coming from my leg, knees buckling, but she gentles her tone as if it was because of her. “Where else does it hurt?”

“My knee.” I only notice the pain now that I’ve been standing on it. When I glance down, I spot the blood dripping in rivulets down my leg. “Ow, geez.” I hunch forward, leaning a hand against the building next to me to take the weight off it.

“Hey, it’s okay.” Gently, she pulls me through the alley we just rode through. “Stay here, okay? I’m gonna return your bike and then we’ll figure out how to get back.”

She uses the flannel to apply pressure to the wound before leaving with one of our bikes.

“We’re going to have to share a seat,” she explains when she returns. “I’ll mostly be standing on the pedals anyway, but we’ll have to be careful with the added weight. Try to keep your body perched forward.”

“This doesn’t sound like a good idea.” I blink up at her. It’snot hard to imagine a second fall doing me in the way the first one almost did. “Me and bikes don’t mix well, if you couldn’t tell.”

“It’ll be a longer walk back, and you can barely stand,” she says. “I’ll ride slow. I’m not gonna let you get hurt again.”

There’s a steely determination in her eyes that tells me arguing with her would be useless. With a nod and a heavy sigh, I do as she says, letting her adjust me on the seat into a more comfortable position. Once I’m seated behind her, she swings a leg over and leans back until the edge of her butt hits the seat.

“Put your arms around my waist.” After a moment of hesitation, I do as she says. “Tighter.” As I wrap my arms tighter around her middle, the warmth of her body seeps into me immediately. The side of my head rests against her back as she propels us forward. Her heartbeat rushes through the ear pressed into her back, steady and sure. A contrast to my erratic heartbeat, though from the fall or her proximity, I can’t say.

The ride back is clear and smooth, not a single bump beneath the wheels. I’m not sure how she’s doing it, but I know I’m safe with this woman. This once, when no one’s watching, I allow myself to breathe in her scent. It’s more grounding than dizzying, almost enough for me to forget the aches and pains in my body.

“Almost there,” she says. I blink against the black fabric of her tank top. Colored brick speeds past, and then the glass and steel of the Tower of the Americas fills my vision up ahead. We bypass it completely, and when I look up, I see she’s taking us straight to the parking garage.

“Did you park here too?” she asks, swinging off the bikebefore coming around to help me out of the seat. Her hands grip my sides, head bent down to make sure she’s putting me down on the right foot.

I shake my head. “Uber.” Downtown parking is a nightmare, but after my crash landing, I’m grateful one of us chose to brave it.

“I live ten minutes from here.” Our faces are so close, I’m eye level with the freckle at the corner of her top lip. It takes all the self-control I can muster not to stare. Even then, I don’t quite succeed. “I can stop by CVS for a first aid kit and bandage you up before I take you home. Does that work for you?”

“What about lunch? I still owe you—well, now I owe you double for saving me…”

“Hey, don’t worry about it.” She shakes her head, smiling slightly down at me. It’s strained at the corners, not her usual flirtatious grin. “Here.” She takes out her key and unlocks her car. “Lie down in the back for now. I need to return the bike and then I’ll be back.”

She opens the door for me, helping me in with more care than necessary and having none of it when I try to wave her off. In her defense, I do it with a wince of my shoulder. Her hands don’t stray far past my waist, but somehow I feel her touch everywhere. I don’t realize I’ve been holding my breath until her touch recedes and she’s turning away from me, her form crossing the parking garage until she disappears behind a corner.

She isn’t gone for very long. Once she returns, she helps me settle into a comfortable position in the front seat, and then we’re off.

Nine

Under different circumstances, I’d already be snooping.

Krystal left me in her living room to grab alcohol wipes from the bathroom when she discovered the first aid kit she bought didn’t have any. My eyes roam over everything in sight—the hanging potted plant by the front door, the TV stand with shelves displaying a small collection of books and DVDs. But it’s the white stand in the corner that takes up the most space. A record player is placed on top of it, while a vinyl collection is housed on the two shelves beneath it. From the looks of it, there isn’t a single inch of free space.

I scoot over the arm of the sofa for a peek at the record still sitting in the player. Selena’sDreaming of You. I nod to myself even as I wonder at the rest of her collection. Who are her favorite artists? What songs does she lose herself in when no one else is around?

“I’m back.” Krystal waves the bottle of rubbing alcohol in the air. “Let’s look at that knee first.”

“I was really hoping you wouldn’t be able to find any.” I letout a groan, already anticipating the stinging pain. I know it’ll be ten times worse than the stinging pain I’m already feeling. Now that I’m thinking clearly again, I’m completely mortified. I can’t believe I crash-landed in the street and she had to come to my rescue. She probably thinks I’m an idiot.Iaman idiot.What was I thinking, riding a bike when the last one I rode still had training wheels on it? And to ruin the flannel she let me borrow too.

“Can’t you just throw a Band-Aid on me and send me home? I’m ashamed of myself enough as it is.”

“No way.” She kneels down on the carpet until she’s eye level with my scraped knee. “I’m nursing you back to health, and I’m doing this right. I’m the reason you crashed in the first place.”

“Ouch.Ow ow ow!” Every muscle in my body tenses as she pours a bit from the bottle directly onto my bloodied skin. She didn’t even warn me first. After a heavy breath, I say, “Don’t blame yourself. I haven’t ridden a bike since I was nine. Even then, it was more of a tricycle.” I wince again, tensing so hard my shoulder starts aching again.

“My flannel didn’t do you any favors either.” She meets my eyes. “I’m sorry about that, Angel. You have no idea how sorry I am.”

“You have nothing to be sorry for,” I tell her, because she hasn’t smiled once since that strained one as she helped me into her car. Even then, I’m convinced it was for my benefit. “You were trying to keep me warm.”

Once my knee is covered with a large, square bandage, she rises to her feet. “Turn for me.”

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