Page 47 of London, Love, & A Little Something Irish

Nataly

I’m closing my eyes. I can’t look. My fingers dig into Nathan’s jacket. The engine rumbles beneath me, steady and alive. My pulse hammers in my ears.This is terrifying.Andexhilarating. As soon as I hopped onto the back of the bike, the anxiety in me kicked itself up a notch. I did tell him I would take him up on his offer of going on the back of his bike, but I didn’t think he’d actuallysurpriseme. I thought I’d have time to psych myself up, you know? But honestly, this is probably better. No time to think—justgo.

Maybe that’s what I need to do more. Sometimes I just let anxiety talk so loud, and maybe it’s time I don’t let it even have a word in. Just hop on andgo.

So that brings us to now. We’re already halfway down the road from the Warehouse and my breath has caught so many times.

He likes to speed up for the adrenaline. And Ifeelit deep inside me. The adrenaline coursing its way through mybloodstream. But he’s also tentative. I can tell he’s speeding up occasionally for the adrenaline, but in a way that won’t scare me off riding again.

I know this is important to him. So I want to love it. It’ll just maybe take a few more go’s before I fully warm up to it. And also, no telling my mom and dad. I wasn’t kidding when I told him my dad wouldfreak.

But as I sit and grip his muscled torso—yes, I can feel his strength through this bulky leather jacket and can I just say,oof—I start to let go. I haven’t opened my eyes for too long yet. I kind of open and close them. But I’m starting to feel myself calm down and release the tension a bit as we continue to ride. I’m starting to focus on the adrenaline and the feel of the engine beneath me. The man whose torso I’m hugging. The feel of the night air, as the golden hour is turning into a sunset.

We pull up to a traffic light and Nathan grips my leg with his hand. My breath hitches. My fingers tighten over him subconsciously. It’s like he’s just taken a match and lit it on my leg.

He turns his head over to me and talks loudly through his helmet so I can hear him.

“You good?” He asks.

“Yeah, I’m good!” I shout back.

He releases his hand and I instantly miss the feel of his warm hand on my knee.

He grabs the handles and off we go again.

Seeing Nathan driving his motorbike is like seeing his real self come alive. He craves adventure. He craves the feel of this. He’s the complete opposite of me in so many ways. He’s not loud like me.Definitelynot clumsy like me. He’s steady, he’s sure, he’s confident. But he’s also spontaneous. I’m a planner. I like to know what’s coming. But he isfree. He takes life as it comes and does it with no hesitation. I love seeing all of these sides of him. I especially love seeing him come alive driving his bike. And it’s hot. I have a feeling I’ll have no problem beinghis backpack.

We’re going through a tunnel, in which he decides to go a little faster.

“Eeeeep!” is the sound that comes out of me as I cling tighter to him.

I feel more than hear his chuckle underneath my hands.

We’re about 15 minutes away from my dorms and there’s a part of me that’s ready to get off the bike. But another part of me that’s not.

I’ve always grown up sheltered. Bubble wrapped. The world is a menace and terrifying and anything bad can happen at any moment. Taught to think inwhat-ifs—because if I plan for every possibility, I’m safe. Safety was my dad’s highest priority. Safety meant no risks. No risks meant no pain. And maybe, that’s something I’ve learned to think too. That if I’m safe, then I just won’t get broken.

But there’s this other side of me that doesn’t want to be like that. I don’t want fear to rule me. I’m tired of always thinking about the worst case scenario. Why does pain always have to be a bad thing? Every time I’ve experienced pain, it’s only made me stronger and better. It’s given me wisdom and knowledge that I wouldn’t have otherwise. Pain has strengthened my endurance, my patience, my perseverance. Those are onlygoodthings. I haven’t let bitterness steal the good things pain has given me. God hasn’t given me a spirit of fear. I don’t have to fear the future or whatever else comes my way.

It’ll be a little hard to un-learn everything I have about fear in my past and re-learn how to live an adventurous life, leaning on faith. I remember Brian Houston saying, “R-I-S-K is how you spell faith,” and that has forever stuck with me. Life isn’t meant to be lived comfortably. Where I have no need for God. Faith pushes us into the risk-zone. Where we don’t have it all together, where we can’t see the unknown. I’ve always wanted to control the unknown so that the outside variables can’t hurt me.

But that’s just not life. Life will hand me hard moments. It’s inevitable. But God will always work it out for my good. Why notlive life fearlessly? Maybe I’m supposed to be outside of my comfort zone because it forces me to lean on God more. To cling onto hope and faith more than my comfort zone demands.

I’m not ready to fully let go. I’m not fully ready to accept that pain can mainly be good. It doesn’t just happen in a snap. But I think making daily decisions like this—choosing to go on the back of Nathan’s bike—helps me become more of who I want to be. I want to be the person who is carefree. Who’s not always worried about the unknown. But who steps confidently into it.

My grip on Nathan is vice-like. I know it. He knows it. My fingers dig into the thick leather of his jacket, and my pulse is a frantic drum in my ears. The city rushes past in a blur, and I don’t know if it’s because we’re moving fast or because my mind is.

But I force my fingers to loosen. Just a little.

I let out a breath I didn’t even know I was holding and open my eyes.

And suddenly, I see it.

The lights of Canary Wharf glimmer like scattered diamonds. The pastel streaks of the sunset melt into the horizon, and London—this chaotic, wild, untamed city—feels like magic.

Maybe I don’t need to control everything. Maybe I just need totrust.

My body softens against Nathan’s back, and a new sensation rises in me. Something light, something reckless. A laugh, small and breathless, escapes me before I can stop it.

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