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I laughed, my curls must have been spiked in a dozen directions. My hair was lucky
to see a brush every day, much less any sort of style. "Not exactly," I mimicked him.
Zach grinned but didn't respond.
"How did you know where I live?"
"I broke into your file at school."
"Really?" I wouldn't have thought he had it in him.
"No, not really," he admitted. "They actually have these things called phone books."
"Funny." I kicked a pebble on the sidewalk. "So based on my obvious interest, you
came all the way here expecting me to hop on the back of your bike like some bimbo in
a music video?"
He rubbed his leather-clad hands to together. "That pretty much sums it up."
"You're not so good with taking hints, are you?"
"Hope springs eternal."
"And you're one more overused quote away from the end of this conversation."
"It's not over yet?" He feigned surprise. "I must be doing something right."
I blamed the Indian. I couldn't possibly be expected to look past its gleaming,
humming glory and it just wasn't right to blame a bike for its rider.
"Do you want a ride, or not?" Zachary stopped the bike and glanced at his watch.
"You won't make it to school on time walking."
With a start, I realized that we had made it down the winding driveway and out to
the street. Keys for the Toyota jangled uselessly in my pocket. I didn't relish the uphill
hike back up the driveway.
I refused to let Zach know he knocked me off balance enough that I forgot the step
between walking out of my house and driving the car to school.
"Tell you what." I grabbed the spare helmet hanging by its strap from the backrest.
"How about I give you a ride to school?"
"What "
I stepped off the curb and swung my leg over the body of the motorcycle, forcing
Zach to scoot back or get a size-9 to his face.
My hands slid over the controls. I revved the engine and small shivers ran through
my body at the sound.
"Hang on," I called. "I'm not turning around if you fall off." I released the e-brake and
rolled the throttle.
We were flying. Cold air rushed over my skin as if we forced our way through storm
clouds. I wanted to ride forever.
The bike maneuvered easily through traffic, skirting slower-moving cars and
hugging turns like a glove. I floored it through any open space I could find. Each time I
came especially close to someone's bumper or scared an unwary pedestrian, Zach's
arms tightened around my waist. That made me smile.
It took every bit of my willpower to slow down for the turnoff towards school and pull
into the full parking lot. I slid against the curb in front of the gate and hopped the front
tire onto the sidewalk. Zach stumbled off the bike and barely caught his balance enough
to avoid falling on the pavement.
I tossed him the spare helmet so it hit hard against his chest. Warning bell had
already rung but I might still make it to class on time.
"Hey," Zach called as I started to walk away. "You didn't even park it."
"Don't want to be late," I yelled over my shoulder without turning back. "You can
thank me for the ride later."
Zachary didn't arrive in History until well after roll call. Mr. Biggs met him at the door
with a gentle scolding and extra homework for a week. He glared at me as he took his
seat.
Sam leaned across the aisle. "Making friends quick?"
"I guess the romantic dinner date is canceled."
She chuckled.
"Ms. Douglas. Ms. Wayward," Mr. Biggs said from the chalkboard. "Whenever you
are ready, the rest of us would like to begin class."
"Yes, Mr. Biggs," we echoed in unison.
"Talk at lunch?" Sam asked in a whisper before straightening.
"Sure."
Zachary was conspicuously absent in the hallway after class. He'd rushing out the
door before the bell even finished ringing. I may have just scared him away for good.
Apparently, forcing a guy to ride sidesaddle on his own bike made him lose all interest
in courtship. Go figure.
Sam met me outside of third period English and we walked towards the lunchroom
together. Only seniors were allowed to leave school grounds during lunch so both of us
were stuck with grainy cafeteria food and bad track lighting.
"So, Zachary is a definite dead end, huh?" She asked as we stood in line.
"Most definitely," I responded. "Dead and buried."
"But he's so cute."
I smiled at her wistful expression. "He's all yours."
"Right." She rolled her eyes. "I am not the girl that a guy like that picks out of a
crowd."
"And I am?" My voice was droll. Sam may not have found the right guy to
appreciate her girl-next-door sweetness, but I wasn't exactly drowning in offers either.
"Totally," she said, as if that should be obvious. "You're cool and tough. Guys like
that."
"Not as many as you seem to think."
Sam grinned. "At least we can drown our sorrows in curly fries."
"Definitely."
"There you are, Helena. We've been looking all over for you."
Cynthie and her loyal followers appeared behind us in line, shoving aside a
sophomore who didn't move out of their way fast enough.
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