Page 45 of Love is Blind

“Anyone ever tell you you’re a wiseass?”

“Why, yes, it’s one of my finer qualities.” She slaps my hand playfully. “You’re stalling.”

I’m really not, though. I’m just kind of fascinated by her and also by the fact I’m actually engaging in this game of twenty questions.

Shaking my head at the absurdity of it all, I finally reply.

“Most of the guys crash there.”

She doesn’t fire off another question right away which makes me think we’re done with our little game. A fine time for me to say goodbye and hit the road.

See you around, Birdie.

“So did you always know you wanted to be a biker?”

I spoke too soon.

“Like, on career day did you raise your hand and tell your whole class when you grow up you are going to be the vice president of the Satan’s Knights?”

I almost laugh but the comment about me being the vice president of the club prevents that from happening. I never shared that information with her.

“Definitely not—how do you know I’m the VP?”

She shrugs a shoulder.

“Emmy mentioned it when you went to the bathroom.”

That doesn’t surprise me. However, someone should warn Ink that his girl has loose lips.

Birdie frowns and asks, “Is it not public knowledge?”

“No, it is,” I reply. “I just didn’t remember telling you.”

And just like that her smile is back and so are the questions.

“Okay, well, if it wasn’t a life-long dream of yours, how did you get involved with the club?”

I liked it better when she was asking me about colors and shit.

“You’re awfully nosey, you know that?”

“And you’re awfully evasive.”

“It’s one of my finer qualities,” I mock. Her eyebrows shoot up and surprise coats her features as she flashes me a big grin, one I feel deep in my gut. It’s that peace. It will fuck you harder than you thought imaginable. “What?” I ask hoarsely. “Why do you look like a kid on a Christmas morning.”

“Because I’m pretty sure you just cracked a joke,” she says, giving my arm a slap. “I didn’t think you had it in you, Casper.”

Yeah, that makes two of us.

Deciding I’m better off answering the original question than exploring why I felt lighthearted enough to crack a joke, I tell her how I stole Leftie’s bike.

“I paid my penance washing bikes for five years after that. When I turned eighteen, I became a prospect and the rest is history.”

“A prospect,” she says thoughtfully. “Is that like a biker in training?”

This girl.

This beautiful wild and inquisitive girl.

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