Page 2 of Trip
At the sound of glass breaking, time speeds up again. I waste no time going into damage control mode, stuttering apologies as I grab a napkin dispenser from the nearest empty table. I brace myself to be yelled at by this handsome, definitely grumpy man as I continue to apologize.
“I’m so sorry,” I say, soaking up the water on the table and knocking the ice to the ground with the remnants of the cup. “I–this has never happened before. I’ve been here all day and I’m exhausted. I know it’s not an excuse, though. I’m so sorry.”
“Julia,” he says, his deep voice calming the growing anxiety and guilt in my gut. When I look away from the mess I’ve made, there’s no anger in his face. In fact, he’s smiling, really smiling this time, and it makes me a little weak in the knees. “Don’t worry about it.”
“But I spilled it all over you,” I say weakly.
Trip looks down at himself, and I follow his gaze. In truth, the mess from the water isn’t that big. There are a few spots on his shirt and a patch on his outer thigh, but somehow, he managed to avoid a bulk of the mess.
“Well, the good news is I’m not made of sugar, so I won’t melt,” he says with a shrug. Then, he returns his attention to my face, still burning bright red. “If I don’t dry off during my meal, this is nothing a few minutes on my bike won’t fix.”
“Oh,” I say, my body feeling immediately lighter at his easy acceptance of the situation. “You have a bike, huh?” I ask lamely.
He’s so much kinder, so much more patient than I would have initially thought. Though, maybe he’s just like that with waitstaff. A traitorous part of my brain suggests he might not act like this with anyone but me.
It’s too early to be thinking that. But I can’t deny that’s what I’d want.
“That I do. Tell me, Julia,” he says, smirking like he knows the effect him saying my name has on me, “have you ever ridden on a motorcycle before?”
“I haven’t,” I admit, going back to sopping up the water I spilled. Not wanting to end the conversation, I add, “Not that I don’t want to. The opportunity’s just never come up.”
Trip makes a humming noise that comes from deep in his chest. Then, he says, “Well, I think I’m just the kind of guy that can fix that.”
“Huh?” I ask, looking away from my work, blinking rapidly as I try to work out what he means.
“You said you wanted to ride a motorcycle,” he replies, clearly pleased with the effect he’s having on me. God, I’m so obvious. “I rode here on one. How about you let me take you out on a little joyride after your shift?”
“I–”
“Sorry,” he says, that handsome smile of his growing even wider. “I phrased that as a question. What I meant to say is that I’m going to take you on a ride after your shift ends. When would that be?”
“You’re– um,” I say, swallowing around the flutter of excitement in my throat. “You’re my last table today.”
“That’s perfect,” he replies as he grabs the napkin container from me, taking a few and cleaning up the last of my mess. “It’s a date.”
“Yeah,” I say, my heart pounding against my ribs. “It’s a date.”
Chapter 2
Trip
Normally, when I sit down for a meal, I eat fast. It’s an old habit from childhood that I never grew out of. I’ve never seen the point of savoring food. It’s there to provide fuel, nothing more, nothing less. Anyone who tells you otherwise is lying.
Today, though… Today I’m taking my time. Sure, I’m tempted to scarf this burger and fries down and get out of here with Julia, but that would mean I don’t get to look at her.
And god damn, do I like looking at her.
Her shiny, black hair is pulled into a low ponytail and probably hangs right at her shoulders when she wears it down. And those eyes… They’re bluer than the damn sky on a clear day. For the most part, she keeps them on her tasks at hand, but every once in a while they land on me, and I have the urge to stand up and march over to where she’s standing to kiss her silly.
I’m not sure what about her inspires this kind of reaction in me. Maybe it’s the quiet confidence she exudes. Maybe it’s the way it seems to falter whenever I speak to her.
Taking another bite of my nearly-finished burger, I watch her bend over to pick up a fallen menu from the floor. Her ass is fantastic, too. Fuck. Everything about her is.
If we’re being honest, I prefer my own company. over other people’s. I’m easily annoyed, have a short temper, and typically limit my social interactions to the essential MCmeetings. For some reason though, I find myself wanting to spend time with Julia.
She stops by my table a few minutes later, a smile on her face and a jacket slung over her shoulders, saying, “I just wanted to let you know your meal’s on the house tonight.”
“Rock put you up to this?” I ask, knowing damn well my fellow MC member practically refuses to let anyone from the Riders of Retribution pay for their meals. It feels like charity, and it rubs me the wrong way.
