Page 48 of Dash

Burned lasagna.

Everything disappears into the silence of the ride.

Dash moves with confidence, his hand resting on my thigh when the road is open, shifting back to the handlebars when the road becomes narrower and difficult to manoeuvre.

I understand why the guys like bikes so much. It feels like flying without wings. It feels like freedom with no chains. Thereis air in my lungs, hope in my chest, and every ounce of tension is leached out of me.

I’m not sure where we’re going, but we ride until the urban sprawl becomes open roads. I don’t care that my bum is dead or that I can no longer feel my legs. Sitting behind him like this is everything.

As he takes a corner, a stone building comes into view. It looks old, as if it was chiselled into the landscape itself, surrounded by heather and bracken.

The car park is half empty, so he picks a spot close to the door.

I wait until he taps my leg, telling me I can climb off the bike. This time I manage to get off the bike and undo the chinstrap before he swings off and removes his own helmet.

I smooth down my hair, certain I look like a tangled mess while he secures both of our helmets to the back of the bike. Then I forget about how I look when his eyes soften on me, like I’m the whole fucking sky above his head.

No one has ever looked at me like that. It makes my chest ache.

When he holds out his hand to me, I hesitate, but only for a beat. I’m not used to this, but fuck, I want to be. I want to take this leap with him. I want him to be mine.

Does he think I’m a mess?

If he does he’s not showing it and I’m not going to point it out either.

His palm is rough and warm against mine, and there’s a giddy happiness swelling inside me. If I let it, it would burst out of my mouth, so I clamp my teeth together.

“Hope you’re hungry,” he says over his shoulder to me, his fingers still locked around mine. “They do a really good burger here.”

“I wonder if they do lasagna,” I quip, which gets me a snorted laugh. “Too soon?”

“No, babe.” His thumb sweeps over my hand as he leads me into the small pub.

I blink against the changing lighting as we step inside. I can smell something delicious in the air, and the hum of voices is soothing.

The few patrons sitting with dogs at their feet look in our direction, but don’t stare, despite the kutte on his back. I’ve noticed people always watch whenever the boys have their vests on, so he must come here enough that no one cares.

My suspicions are confirmed when he lifts his chin at the guy behind the bar, as if he knows him.

The table he picks is in a large bay window overlooking the rolling hills outside. My eyes are immediately drawn to the view and the wildness of it. Bracken and heather covers as far as the eye can see.

Dash doesn’t sit opposite me as I expect, but next to me, as if he can’t bear to be too far away.

My stomach flutters, especially when his hand instantly finds my thigh under the table.

His thumb sweeps back and forth, comforting.

He doesn’t let go of me as he reaches for menu, sliding in front of me. I stare at the prices and try not to freak the fuck out. It’s expensive. I thought it would be pub prices.

Mentally, I’m juggling my accounts, trying to figure out if I can move some things around, but I can’t afford this.

Maybe I can pick up some extra shifts… take some of the money from my rent and hope I can replace it before it’s due.

“Babe? You’re looking at that thing like it holds the secrets of the universe.”

“Yeah,” I grimace, “the thing is… I really want to treat you to lunch, dinner whatever mealtime this is, but I also need to payrent this week and money is already tight. Like tight enough that I’m debating feet pics. I spent the last I had on the lasagna stuff and…”

Stop talking, Dayna. I’m contemplating yeeting myself out of the window, or maybe sewing my mouth shut when he leans into my space.

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