Page 37 of The Kissing Booth
With a kick, the bike roared to life and growled beneath me. We hadn’t moved half an inch but my arms squeezed him tight around the waist and I pulled myself as close as I could get. My heart pounded, terrified.
I heard his laugh over the rushing blood in my ears and the menacing growl of the engine.
Then we were off.
I wanted to yell at him, and scream, ‘Slow down! You’re going to kill us!’
Except when I opened my mouth, any sound I might’ve made was snatched by the wind rushing past us. We were hurtling along the roads, slipping through traffic and zipping past lines of cars and trucks.
My hair was whipped out from under the helmet and my blouse was buffeted against me. I couldn’t hear anything except blood rushing in my ears, the roar of the bike, and the wind.
When Noah yanked the bike around and came to a sudden, smooth stop outside my house, I couldn’t move.
My arms were still curled tightly around his toned stomach. My legs were as close to him as I could get them.
Noah slowly peeled my arms away, and that jerked me back to life. I slid off the bike, my legs feeling so wobbly they made Jell-O look steady, and my shaky hands fumbled with the helmet.
Noah undid it for me in one swift motion and pulled it off my head.
‘Your hair’s all static,’ he said, and reached up to ruffle it.
I scowled, and my trembling hands smoothed it out – which was impossible. It felt like a bird’s nest. It’d take me hours to brush all these knots out. The leftover paint I’d missed wouldn’t help much.
‘Oh come on,’ he said, leaning on his bike casually. ‘Don’t tell me you didn’t enjoy that.’
‘I hated it,’ I told him truthfully.
‘You didn’t love the wind in your hair, or the freedom, or the sheer speed of it?’
I shook my head. ‘Not a chance. Ihatedit.’
‘Even cuddling up to me?’ he asked with a cocky smirk. ‘Don’t tell me you didn’t enjoy that.’
‘Noah, that was the scariest thing I’ve ever done in my entire life. I don’t care how hot you are, I hated every second of that.’
‘You think I’m hot?’ His smirk grew wider and I felt my cheeks get warm.
‘Oh, shut up. It’s not like you don’t know you are.’
‘True. But it’s nice to hear you admit it.’
‘You’re such a jerk, you know that? And I’m never getting on that bike ever again in my life.’
‘But I’m a hot jerk, right?’ he teased.
I glowered. ‘Shut up already. Just get my bag out. Please,’ I added.
He rolled his eyes but handed me my bag.
‘Thank you,’ I said curtly, and marched up to the door.
‘Oh, Elle?’
‘What?’ I sighed, turning around to give him an exasperated look.
‘You have a little paint... Just there.’ He brushed the side of his face to demonstrate, a giant smirk on his face. I glared and slammed the front door behind me.
‘Elle? Is that you?’ Dad called. He popped out of the kitchen and did a double take. ‘What happened?’
