Ineffable

32 | NOT A MARSHMALLOW

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Noah

I stop the bike in front of her house and hear her soft yawn, against my arm. Bella is definitely tired but is too stubborn to admit that.

During the ride, sometimes she talked and told me that she was not tired but the rest of the time, I had to stop her from dozing off, not wanting her to fall from the bike. So, I kept my left hand behind and on her back, firmly, as I drove slower than I usually do.

I cannot see her from the mirror but I know her cheeks and the edges of the helmet are pressed against my back while her arms circle my waist. I turn my head not so much that I wake her up but enough to see her hairline.

"Bella?"

She hums.

"Wake up."

"Don't want to," She mumbles. "You smell nice and you are soft."

I stop myself from scowling. "I am not soft."

"You are a marshmallow," She argues back, hugging me tightly. "Can you carry me?"

"No. You have legs."

"Of course, I have legs," Then, the volume of her voice lowers. "I am human."

"Are you sure?" When I get a small mumble about cupcakes in answer, I know she is starting to sleep. I groan, "Bella."

"Okay, okay, I am awake," She says, straightening up, and I take off my hand from her back. We both look at each other from the mirror. She narrows her eyes and I frown.

"What?" I ask her.

She replies, "You are confusing."

"I am not."

As she gets off the bike, she says, "Sometimes, you make it seem like chivalry exists but then, you remind me that you are still that bad boy I met in the washroom."

"Boys' room, specifically." I chuckle. She takes off the helmet from her head and gives it to me, looking back at her home.

After keeping the helmet in front of my seat, I look at her. She stands at the same spot, looking back at me—expecting something. She crosses her arms over her chest and I wait because I am no mind reader.

Until her glare stings me hard. "What?"

"Aren't you gonna walk me to the door?" She asks.

Taken aback, I ask, "Do you want me to?"

"No," She pauses and looks away from me. "Maybe."

Only it is then, I understand. I understand her glances towards her home. I understand the action of her picking at the skin on her palm. I understand that she is nervous.

She wasn't just tired, she also wanted to delay the process.

I park the bike on the pavement and get off of it. When I stand in front of her, I take her hand in mine.

She looks at me, surprised by the action, but I do not say anything. I give a small squeeze to her hand as we start walking towards the door.

Bella glances at me. "I haven't seen you smoke."

"I don't need to—or even want to."

She tilts her head. "Why?"

At first, I don't have anything to say—nothing at all. But I tell her, "I do not know why or how I stopped doing that. But it is for better, anyway."