Page 58 of Battered Moves

After a moment of silence, he opens the door and looks at me.

“I’m sorry about the cupcakes and balloons,” I say, feeling guilty. “I didn’t know that you don’t like celebrating your birthday. I just wanted to do something nice for you because you mean so much to me.” I look down at the floor. “You don’t have to lock yourself in your room. I can just go home if you prefer. I won’t be offended. I’m sorry.”

It’s quiet for a moment before he finally speaks.

“No, I’m sorry, Liv. I didn’t mean to make you feel this way. You want to come in?” He opens the door a bit more for me to step in, and the lump in my throat gets smaller as I smile.

“Sure,” I reply.

Chase’s room is very neutral, without much personal stuff that I recognize. There aren’t any pictures or souvenirs, just a bed with dark red bedding, a TV on the wall, and a desk with a laptop on it. On the left side, under the window, there’s a bookshelf filled with books. Some are even stacked beside it because there’s no more room.

“Am I allowed to snoop? I didn’t the last time I was in here, even if I wanted to badly,” I ask, and his smile becomes a little more real.

“Have at it.”

I walk over to the bookshelf and read the titles. Most of them are fantasy, and I recognize the copy ofThe Hobbitthat River read to me. I turn and make my way to the desk, noticing a bike part and a polishing cloth lying on it.

“I’m no expert, but wouldn’t it be better if that thing was on the bike?” I ask, trying to lighten the mood. I’m pleased when he huffs a laugh.

“The bike can still drive without it. It’s just not as silent anymore,” he explains.

“And that’s a good thing?” I ask, genuinely not understanding. He laughs again, looking at the floor and shaking his head.

“You’re fucking adorable, you know that?” he asks. I blush and make my way to his bed, sitting on the edge.

“How long have you been riding a bike?” I ask him.

“Since I was sixteen,” he replies.That’s quite a long time, considering he’s turning twenty-four today.

“Did you always have the Harley?” I inquire further. He sits beside me and takes my hand in his.

“No, I just got her last year. Fixed her up a bit,” he says with a smile.

“You did a really good job,” I say.

“You think so?” he asks with a smirk.

“Yes, I mean I have absolutely no comparison, but from my expert view, it looks pretty good,” I joke, and he smiles before kissing my temple.

“I mean, you already sat on it once. If that doesn’t make you an expert, I don’t know what does,” he says playfully.

“Hey, it was twice. I mean, we drove back again too,” I remind him, and he chuckles.

“Of course. I should take you for a ride more often,” he says, squeezing my hand. When I grimace, he asks, “What? I thought you liked it last time?” He starts stroking the back of my hand with his thumb.

“I more than liked it. I loved it,” I say.

“So, what’s the problem?” he asks.

“I may have overstepped,” I say, biting my lip. He furrows his brows in confusion, and I continue, “Considering the situation, I would say I definitely overstepped.”

“Liv, I don’t think it’s as bad as you think it is. What did you do?” he asks in concern.

Fuck it, he’ll find out anyway, and he may as well know how much I fucked up today.

“As part of your birthday present, I treated myself to a new helmet and leather jacket. I read on the internet that all backpacks have their own gear,” I say. He looks at me with wide eyes and then bursts out laughing.

“You were browsing biker forums?” he teases.

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