Pheromones: A Darren Criss Fanfic

CHAPTER TWELVE

The bartender's shift ended short after our small discussion, and he grabbed his coat and left the bar with me. We started walking slowly down the sidewalk.

"So," I started. "What's your name?" I hated to ask, especially after our in-depth conversation, but I hared not knowing even more.

"Jack."

"Well, Jack. I'm Caroline."

His eyes travelled sideways to me, a small smirk on his face. "I like that name."

I smiled widely. "Well, your name reminds me of Captain Jack Sparrow."

His laugh was obnoxious and enchanting at the same time. My face was probably as red as a tomato as the embarrassment overtook me. I couldn't believe that I had even said that. I wanted to blame it on the alcohol, but I had only had one drink.

"I'll take that as a compliment."

I guess it was a good thing for his to take it as a compliment, but I wasn't even sure if I had meant to say it out loud. All the same, it had happened and I couldn't take it back. Then again, maybe I was glad that I had said it; it had broke the ice a little bit. Not that the ice wasn't already broken after I had spilled my heart out to him over liquor.

After just a few moments of silence, and about a block of walking, we had finally arrived. What we had arrived to, though, was completely unexpected.

We stood in front of a shiny as new Harley. It was slick and black with orange and red flames painted on. It was a nice bike, but a lump formed in my throat. There was no way that I was getting on that thing. I stuttered, "Wh-What's that?"

"That," he took a step closer to me, his arm brushing mine as he admired the bike, "is Gretchen."

I crinkled my nose. "You named your bike Gretchen?"

Jack walked up to the motorcylce and swung a leg over so that he was straddling it. He looked like he was taken straigh out of one of those greaser movies. "She's not just a bike. I practically built her from scratch when I was seventeen."

My eyes were wide and I had my serious face on as I walked towards him, talking slowly. "Is she safe?"

"Of course." He handed me a matte black helmet.

I wasn't too keen on the idea of getting on the back of a motorcycle with some bartender I had only just met while I happened to be drinking. But then an image of Darren popped into my mind. The dark, curly hair, the full lips, the charming smile and multicolored eyes. Perfection. And then I thought about his girlfriend. I didn't know what she looked like or anything about her, but I could clearly picture his arms around her. I knew that I was jealous.

Before I could let the thought linger for too long, I shook it out of my head and swung my leg over the seat.

"You need to hold on. I don't want you falling off the back." He laughed.

"You better be joking." My voice cracked.

From the angle I was at I could see him smirking. "Put the helmet on nice and tight."

I did as he said, fitting the helmet snugly on my head. Before I knew it, we were off. I found myself sliding forward and pressing my body against his back, my arms wrapped tightly around his waist. I closed my eyes tightly, telling myself, "It will be over soon, it will be over soon, it will be over soon."

The bike vibrated beneath me, my whole body shaking. Until suddenly the adrenaline rushing through my blood finally hit me and I had the uncontrollable urge to start laughing. I opened my eyes, but I couldn't see anything. Lights flew past us, but were blurred and unspecific. The wind hit my body from every angle, the ends of my hair flying backwards. It was like being up in the air; it was like flying.

For a moment, I wished that I wasn't wearing the helmet. I wished that I could feel the breeze on my face. I wished that I could press my cheek into the crook of Jack's neck. I wished that I could just allow myself to let go and finally see the world a little differently.

We quickly arrived at a small restaurant with the word "Pace" lined out in the bricks above long, rectangular windows and two beautiful doors.From the outside, it looked as if they had brought a little piece of Italy right here to Los Angeles. Jack parked his bike and we got off. Unfortunately, when I lifted the helmet from my head, all the fresh air rushed into my lungs and I almost fell backwards. Jack wrapped one arm around my waist and rested his other hand on my arm to steady me. I felt weak in the knees. As he lifted me back to my feet, our eyes met. They were soft and he was looking at me in such a way that my heart began to race. I told myself that I was just reacting to almost passing out.

"Shall we go in?" His voice seemed loud in the silence that surrounded us and I couldn't help but flinch.

I nodded. "Yeah."