Page 35 of Fire Me Up
The way she emphasized “adventure” made me want to disappear through the floor. I pushed past, stepping into the hallway and pulling the door closed behind me.
“Sorry about that,” I said. “My sisters think they’re hilarious.”
Dylan laughed, the sound making my stomach flip. “They are. And they care about you.” He glanced down at the carrier. “Hey, Bacon. Ready for a ride?”
Bacon meowed in response, and Dylan tapped the mesh window with his fingertip.
“So,” I said, struggling to sound casual. “What’s the plan for today?”
Dylan’s eyes met mine, and the spark there made my breath catch. “I thought we’d try something different. If you’re up for it.”
Different. My mind raced with possibilities, each more explicit than the last. Was this a date? Another lesson? Did it matter, as long as I got to be with him?
“I’m up for anything,” I said, and meant it.
The spring air hit my face as we stepped outside, a welcome relief. Dylan walked ahead toward the curb where his motorcycle waited, and I forced myself not to stare at the way his jeans hugged his ass.
I failed miserably.
At least I had the excuse of carrying Bacon’s backpack—something to focus on besides the urge to slide my hand into Dylan’s back pocket.
“So I was thinking we’d go for a hike,” Dylan said, stopping beside his Yamaha. “There’s this trail up in the foothills with an amazing view. Not too many people this time of year.”
I blinked, trying to process. “A hike? Is that, uh I cleared my throat, heat creeping up my neck. “Is that part of the lessons? Or just as friends?”
The moment it left my mouth, I wanted to punch myself. Could I sound any more desperate?
“I mean,” I backpedaled quickly, “either way is fine. I like hiking. And friendship. And… other stuff.”
Jesus Christ, just shut up already.
Dylan’s lips quirked in that half-smile that made my knees weak. “It’s whatever you want it to be, Gael.” He stepped closer, voice dropping. “I figured you might want to try something with all the straights around. Like holding hands while we hike. Just so you won’t be nervous when you have a real boyfriend.”
My brain stuttered over “real boyfriend” like it hit a pothole. The implication that Dylan wasn’t—or couldn’t be—sent a sharp ache through my chest. But he wanted to hold my hand. In public. With people around.
That was good, right?
“That sounds good. Very educational.”
Dylan laughed, the sound warming me from the inside out. “I try.” He gestured toward his motorcycle, and I noticed for the first time that something was different.
Attached to the right side of his Yamaha was a sleek blue sidecar that hadn’t been there before. Not one of those vintage rounded things—modern and sporty, matching the lines of the bike. But what really caught my attention was the small rack mounted at the back of the sidecar, clearly designed to hold Bacon’s carrier securely.
“You…” I swallowed hard, something huge and overwhelming swelling in my chest. “You added a sidecar? For us?”
Dylan shrugged, but I caught the hint of color in his cheeks. “This is a different bike. See? It’s a 2004.”
“Yeah, I have no idea what that means.”
“I bought this bike with the sidecar last year. Usually only use it for camping gear. But I figured it would be safer than having you try to balance the cat while riding pillion.”
I stared, at a loss for words. He’d thought about our safety, about Bacon’s comfort. He’d modified his setup for us. This wasn’t how someone acted who only wanted casual lessons.
“The rack is new, though,” he admitted, running his hand over the custom-fitted attachment near the footwell. “But it was easy to make. Just some basic welding.” He hesitated, then added with a self-deprecating grin, “ADHD brain got stuck on ‘make it perfect for Gael and Bacon,’ and, uh… I kinda went down a rabbit hole last night.”
“Just some basic welding,” I echoed, my heart doing somersaults. If Dylan Kim kept being this thoughtful, I was going to need cardiac intervention. “For my cat.”
“I mean, he has that leash. He likes hikes, right? Come on, let’s get you guys settled.” Dylan reached into a saddlebag and pulled out a helmet, handing it to me. “This should fit. It’s adjustable.”
