Page 94 of The Girlfriend's Guide to Dating a Biker
Jake had helped me choose my own helmet the day after he gave me a key to his apartment, and we’d spent a lot of time together on his bike since then. If you’d told me three months ago that I’d be creating a spreadsheet called “Optimal Motorcycle Routes: A Data-Driven Analysis” with columns for “Adrenaline Factor,” “Thigh Squeeze Frequency,” and “Post-Ride Endorphin Levels,” I would have laughed in your face. Yet here I was, with exactly that. The spreadsheet even had a heat map showing the correlation between route duration and my ability to concentrate at work the next day. I’d also created a decision-tree algorithm that factored in weather conditions, traffic patterns, and the likelihood of finding a good coffee stop. Data doesn’t lie, people.
Five minutes later, after a kiss that threatened my ability to think straight for the next couple of hours, Jake was gone, and I found myself alone in his apartment with my laptop open and a new spreadsheet staring back at me.
“THE GIRLFRIEND’S GUIDE TO DATING A BIKER: PHASE 2”
I was just about to start filling it in when Jake’s mum texted me.
Mags:
Love, I’ve been thinking about those scones you made last week. Want my secret recipe for making them extra fluffy? The boys at the club go crazy for them xx
Mags and I had become close since the night she ended up in hospital. She was a tough woman who’d seen some things in her life having grown up in the MC world with a father and brother who were bikers and then marrying one and having kids with him. She was the kind of woman who could tell embarrassing stories about her son while simultaneously letting you know she’d end you if you hurt him. All with a smile that explained exactly where Jake got his dimples from.
But I was sure she knew I would never hurt her son. And so, we exchanged movie and TV show recommendations, spent hours together during her chemotherapy chatting about the books we were reading, and she did her best to help me find my feet in my new life with her son and the club. Also, recipes. She’d started helping me out with baking. It turned out that stress baking was my new preferred way of coping whenever I thought Jake was in danger.
Me
OMG yes, please text it!
Mags
Did you see that I rearranged Jake’s pantry yesterday?
Mags was often here, and while I’d had friends in the past who complained about their boyfriend’s mother interfering in their relationship, I didn’t feel this way. I loved that Mags and Jake were close enough for her to visit often, and I loved that she spent time getting to know me.
Me
No. What did you do?
Mags
I created a baking shelf for your ingredients and brought some things over that I thought you might be able to use. I’m going to email you my mother’s recipes to add to your baking spreadsheet too.
Me
Wow. Thank you.
I was lost for words. Mags might have thought she was just making space for a few things in the pantry, but to me, this was so much more than that. She’d already welcomed me into her son’s life, but this was a whole other type of welcome.
Mags
You’re not just visiting anymore, love. You belong there and you need your own spaces to fill with your things xx
Belong. I felt that word deeply in my chest. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d truly felt I belonged somewhere other than with my own family. In friendships, I usually felt awkward and out of place. Not into the same things as other women. In the tech world, I was always the girl who had to work twice as hard to be taken half as seriously. In dating, I was the quirky one with too many spreadsheets and not enough patience for the games that seemed to be involved with dating.
But here, in this strange new world of bikers and brotherhood, I’d somehow found a place that felt right. A place where my analytical mind was appreciated rather than mocked, where my fierce loyalty was matched rather than exploited, and where my tendency to overthink was met with patience rather than frustration.
As if reading my thoughts, my phone pinged with a text from Madison, one of the Stormgirls I’d become friends with.
Madison
Coffee with the girls next week? We’re planning a girls’ weekend away and want you to come. Plus, Harlow needs help setting up a website for her art. I told her she needs your skills.
I stared at her text for longer than I usually would. I’d never developed friendships through a guy I was dating, and I really liked that I was now. I wasn’t just a part of Jake’s life now; these girls were gently pulling me into their world too, one small, ordinary invitation at a time.
After I replied, agreeing to coffee, I went back to my new spreadsheet and started filling it in, smiling to myself as I created headers and categories, organising this new chapter of my life the only way I knew how. My fingers flew across the keyboard, sorting through memories and observations, creating a roadmap for this uncharted territory.
Under “Biker Dictionary,” I added terms I’d picked up. Under “Clubhouse Etiquette,” I detailed the subtle hierarchies I’d observed. Under “The Old Ladies’ Code,” I listed the unspoken rules Madison and the girls had mentioned.
