Page 23 of The Overdue Kiss

He closes his eyes for a few seconds, gathering his patience. “I specifically saidgroup. It’s a chill meetup where we get together and just ride. We are scattered between here and Denver, but we try to fit in at least one ride a week. But to me, it’s more than just a group. Chris, Holt, Cai, Thor, and Chantelle...” He stops for a minute, and just before I think that might be it, he finishes with, “They are more than my friends—they’re like family. What about you? Any hobbies or interests?”

“I don’t really do anything outside of work and books. There’s a social media thing I do, book related of course, but I don’t need to leave my apartment.”

“Well, if you loved riding with me the other day, you’d probably enjoy cruising with us. You can be my backpack?—‍”

“Yourwhat?” I ask, snorting with laughter.

“Backpack.” Des tries to be serious and fails. “I promise, that’s the term for it. Since you’re hanging on my back. You know...” He waves his hands around, mimicking the straps of a backpack.

The fact that he is trying so hard to explain only fuels my laughter. Tears well in my eyes, and I lean toward him and brace a hand on his arm so I don’t fall out of my chair.

“Oh my goodness, I’ve never heard that term before. I love it.”

“It’s a real thing.”

“I’d love to be your backpack.”

“Nah. You laughed at me. You lost your chance.” He crosses his arms in a mock pout.

“I thought you were messing with me. Remember, I know nothing about bikes—motorcycles.”

“What’s so funny?” Reese slides into the empty seat across from us, black smudges under her chin. “What did I miss?”

“Des asked me to be his backpack,” I say, waiting for her to join in the laughter.

Her eyes widen, the silver hue the same as her brother’s. “Oooh, really? That’s a compliment. He rarely lets me ride with him unless I force him.”

A pink tinge spreads across Des’s cheeks. “It’s not a big deal.”

She leans in and whispers behind her hand to me. “It is. That’s like girlfriend status.”

“Reese,” Des scolds.

A moment of silent conversation passes between them, probably developed by a lifetime of sibling arguments.

Leaning back in her chair, she throws her hands up in surrender. “I’m just explaining how monumental it is to be ‘chosen’ as a backpack.”

“Well, stop.”

“Fiiine... joy killer. Are you guys drinking water all night? You look ready for a refill, Maya. I’m going to get something fruity.”

Des tenses, his eyes meeting hers in silent accusation.

“Don’t look at me like that. Nonalcoholic. Give me a break, bro,” Reese snaps. The chair screeches as she pushes back from the table and storms off to the bar.

Awkward silence fills the space between Des and me, and I unconsciously pick at the straw wrappers still left on the table.

He clears his throat. “I guess I should explain her outburst.”

“It’s fine. I completely understand family arguments. If there is something you two need to discuss, I don’t want to get in the middle. I can give you both some space.”

“Maya, no.” His hand covers mine, warm and comforting, just as it had been when we were on his bike. He holds my gaze, summoning those butterflies again. “That’s not what I want at all. Our family drama isn’t exactly a secret. Reese is six months sober, probably the longest that she’s ever been since our granny passed away four years ago.”

I flip my hand over, returning the comforting hold. “I’m so sorry, Des... I know that it’s hard to lose those closest to you. It doesn’t matter how many years pass, sometimes it can still feel like yesterday.” I give his hand a squeeze.

“She was more of a mother than a grandmother to me. She raised me and Reese while my mom was drunk and out doing who-knows-what. Granny was the one I could depend on. The one who baked all my birthday cakes, bandaged my skinned knees, and bought me my dirt bike. She didn’t talk a lot because she didn’t need to. Her actions spoke enough.”

“You know, it sounds like you two have a lot in common.”

---