Page 69 of A Shore Fling
“I think I’ve passed beginner status,” she says, placing her hands on the back handlebars.
“Let’s do this,” I say, pushing off.
We fall into rhythm almost instantly. Her pedaling syncs with mine, and we move along smoothly. It’s nothing like our first ride. There’s no nervous laughter or hesitation on her part.
Halfway down the street, she drags in a deep breath and then exhales a contented sigh. “The air is so fresh and cleansing.”
“What’s the New York City air smell like?” I ask.
“Exhaust, piss, and weed,” she says, laughing.
“I’ve never been.”
“You should come visit,” she suggests.
“After your glowing endorsement? Maybe not.”
“Well, it’s not all bad. I live there.”
“That’s true.” But even so, I can’t see myself visiting. Seeing her in her world would only remind me of how much I don’t belong.
We fall silent for the remainder of the ride. Nina continues pedaling like a champ, her uncertainty gone. I can feel the difference on every turn we take. She’s no longer fighting against the bike’s movements out of fear. Instead, she’s remaining loose and going with the flow.
When we pull into her driveway, I hop off and hold the frame steady so she can climb down. She places a hand on my shoulder for balance, and I catch myself wishing she didn’t let go so quickly.
“I did much better this time,” she says, glowing with pride.
“You did great,” I say, handing her the lobster pin she purchased. I grab the rest of the things from the basket and set them inside the truck’s cab. Lowering the tailgate, I lay the bike on the tarp in the bed and then closed the tailgate.
I walk beside her to the front porch and climb the stairs behind her. At the top she pivots around, facing me. “This night has been perfect.”
“Yeah,” I agree. “It has been.”
She shifts her weight from one foot to the other. “So... we’re just going to pretend like we didn’t have a moment earlier?”
“Which moment? The queso orgasm or the part where I said you make me feel happy?”
She rolls her eyes, but she’s smiling. “Both. But especially the latter.”
“I’m not pretending, Nina.”
“Me either.” She drops her chin slightly, then looks back up. “You make this feel easy.”
“Because it is.”
She nods slowly, like she’s weighing something. “I don’t usually let things be easy.”
“I’ve noticed,” I say gently.
She lets out a quiet laugh. “It’s not intentional. I’m just used to being in control. Planning. Structuring. Working toward something.”
“And this?” I ask.
“This doesn’t feel like something to plan.” She meets my eyes. “That scares me a little.”
“Me too.” As soon as my admission lands between us, I reach for her hand and thread my fingers through hers.
She watches our joined hands for a beat, then lifts her eyes to mine. “Do you want to come in?”
