Page 43 of Riding the Sugar High

Once Kyle, who’s been silently observing, walks closer, Logan steps away until the door shuts. Only then, I drop to the bench and look into Kyle’s eyes.

“Feeling tense around Sugar Daddy, huh, Sugar High?”

Seriously?! He might not have heard the last thing Logan said, but there’s no way he missed the first part. The police want to question me. Sugar...Daddyis the very last thing on my mind.

“Not in the mood,” I mumble, resting my forehead on my fist.

“Oh, come on. Don’t worry too much,” Kyle says in a cheerful voice. “Trust me, Logan has been through this so many times.” When my worried gaze meets his eyes, he makes apfftnoise. “Nothing ever happens.”

Maybe he’s right, and that’s why Logan didn’t look overly concerned either. Or maybe they’re both crazy, and their carefree attitude will send me to jail. I guess I’ll find out soon enough.

“So? Sugar Daddy?”

With a sigh, I try to focus on Kyle. “What about him?”

“For the love of—” He grabs an apple, winds back, and throws it at me. I manage to weave and duck, avoiding the hit. “Just admit you’re into him!”

“Fine!” I exhale, then peer around to make sure Logan’s gone. “I guess he’s...good-looking. And the bike’s hot. But that’s all.”

“Uh-huh.” He rushes to sit back down, then smacks his hand against the table. “Okay, so here’s what you do.”

“I won’t be doing a single thing, Kyle.”

“Ask him to let you be his backpack.”

I scrunch my brows. “Backpack?”

“Ride behind him.” He smirks. “Bikers call their passengers ‘backpacks.’”

Do they?

“Because you’d hold on to him while pressed against his back? Your arms are the straps?” he hedges, speaking slowly as if to imply I should have understood already.

“Okay, uh...how’s that relevant?”

“Logan won’t let just anyone be his backpack.” He shrugs as if he doesn’t get it. “If he says yes, you’re in. It means he’s attracted to you. And now your bodies are in contact. There are sparks. He does his little trick where he only rides on the back wheel. Adrenaline is firing up.”

Oh my god, this guy’s nuts.

“He brings you to see the stars from someplace nobody else knows or some other dumb crap like that.” He taps a finger on the table. “Guarantee the night endsTop Gun–style, with your arms around his waist. And then...”

I wave him off. “Yes, I get it.”

“Uh-huh. So are you gonna?”

What? Ask him to take me on a ride? No. Hell no. If Kyle is right—and I have more than a doubt about it—then I’d be hitting on him, and I have no plans to be rejected by Logan. Sure, he kissed me that first night, but that was a knee-jerk reaction to panic. Since then, he’s mostly looked annoyed by my presence. And besides, I have a deal to bring home and the police chasing after me.

“You know, as tempting as it sounds,” I say, “I don’t think so. No.”

“Look, I’m not telling you to hit on him. Ask him to take you on a ride, and if he says no, you’ll know he’s not into you, but it won’t be awkward.”

“I’ll think about it,” I lie. I hope it’s convincing, because I need Kyle to drop the topic. I don’t even know why we’re talking about this. There are rules in place—well, one rule—to make sure all he remains to me is a fake boyfriend. “Promise you won’t bring this up with him either way.”

“I swear,” he says as he takes my hand in his and shakes. Then, with a clap, he stands again. “He’s so lucky to have me in his life.”

* * *

“Is peanut butter vegan?”

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