A Cringy, Cheesy, Cliché

Chapter 8

         Finally outside in the senior parking lot I had to stop myself from walking out to Freddie's car. I texted her to go without me, but it was still nice to have seen their car still there. Even for Freddie I had to imagine it was a weird routine to break. 

         "This way," a deep voice from behind rudely instructs. I didn't even have to look up to know it was my project boyfriend bossing me around. Although I can't say I'm thrilled about this new arrangement, I am curious as to what type of car Silas Black drives.

         "Hadley, I'd like you to meet Cherry."

         "Silas, where is your car." I order more of a statement than a question.

         Silas tosses me a helmet that was seemingly kept from the underseat and hits the kickstand of his bike making it go unsteady. "Who said anything about a car?"

         Cherry is a black Harley with red accents drawn across her sides. A motorcycle with shiny black alloy wheels and a suave driver to pilot it. Yeah nope. I can already see the headlines: "Local Teen Girl Dies in Motorcycle Crash Just to Pass English Class." I just know the Journalism Club of Pacman Prep would go crazy. So obviously, I throw back the helmet at Silas not caring if he caught it or not due to my impeccable throwing skills and march towards Freddie and Dani's parking spot. 

         Only, I see their spot and not the car.

         I can hear the smirk developing in his smug too-handsome-for-this-world face. "I texted Freddie that she can leave once you came over to my 'car'."

         "Or lack thereof," I not-so-quietly mutter.

         "It might look scary but I'll teach you how to safely ride. But first thing first, you're gonna need this back."

         I take the helmet back and fit my skull through.

         "And buckle your chin strap too. Just in case your head falls loose."

         I punch Silas in the stomach sending him into a laughing fit at my pathetic girl strength. "You better have insurance."

         "Just hold onto me tightly and we won't have to worry about insurance coverage, m'kay." Even through the visor his eyes manage to make my heart flutter a little. They don't call Silas a heartthrob for nothing.

         "S-sure. Just drive up to the corner store on 79th and 6th street, my house is down the block."

         Silas turns around from me and revs his handle bar. The sound of the engine is enough to turn my insides and the wind whipping past my body can turn me into sludge. It's when I peek over Silas' shoulder to tell him to slow down I see we're only going 40 mph.

         "How is it?" Silas yells over the wind. "Hadley on a Harley, pretty neat right."

         You know what? It actually is. I feel like a dog hanging its head out the window, only my entire body is out! I'm still scared, but this is a fun feeling of scared. My adrenaline is so high and so are my spirits!

         "It's not bad, but god I really need to learn how to drive!"

         I can't hear very well if Silas is laughing at my joke but before I realize it, we're already turning down the block to my house. Cherry slows down and I lift my visor off, my eyeballs feeling happy to breathe.

         "Which one is it?"

         I point at the green house at the end of cul-de-sac and he parks right next to my mailbox. I swing my legs off, Silas following after and he removes the helmet from my head placing it back under Cherry. 

         "Is my hair messed up?"

         "In the motor world, we call this helmet hair. Nothing a little patting can't do." And that's exactly what he does. He smooths my hair down with his burly man hands. Parting my unruly wheaty-colored hair into even splits.

         "And how's mine?" Silas cranes his neck down for me to examine his buzzed black hair. There's really nothing for me to do with it so I just ruffled his hair and call it a day.

         "Better. You ready to come in?"

         "So long as you didn't lose your keys while you were screaming like a girl, then yeah, please invite me in Miss Davis."

         I try to make sure my face doesn't turn into his bike's name and reach into my school bag for my house keys which are obviously there waving them in his face. We walk up my driveway and I turn the key. Am I really about to have Silas Black in my house? He answers the question for me and opens the door before I can even grab the knob and invites himself in. Well there's that for hospitality.

         "Nice house."

         "Yeah, well after eighteen years it becomes pretty average."

         "You need to come over to my house then one day." Silas finds his way to the kitchen and walks up to the fridge searching for something to eat.

         "You know you take the phrase 'mi casa es su casa' a little too literal?" I cross my arms.

         Silas takes an uncrustable sandwich, unwrapping it and biting into the jam and peanut goodness. "How'd you know I was Hispanic?"

         At this retort I roll my eyes and also treat myself to the same snack I found Silas munching on. PB's and J's never get old...

         "So where are your folks?" Silas sits on a bar stool still munching on his sandwich.

         "Dad's at work. He's a residential electrician. Should be back home soon though," I join Silas at my kitchen island. "He never comes home past 6."

         He nods his head, but his eyes perk up when he realizes something. "And your mom?"

         She could be in Europe for all I know, eating frankfurts, and wearing clogs. She's been out of the picture since I could remember. I never needed a mom when I had a dad that did everything else for me. From attending all my band recitals to helping me get my scholarships in order for college. Dad bought me a book when I was 12 titled "Because of Winn-Dixie" when I asked about mom once. I was experiencing womanhood's affects for the first time and thought for once maybe mom will come and help me. But of course why would she if she never came the previous twelve years? This led to my dad having to give me the talk. It was terrible and embarrassing. I hated him for not calling mom for me and not even putting the effort to find mom. It was a very much needed conversation to have and an even more helpful book to read.

         "Hadley?"

         I didn't mean to zone out but Silas' question really sent me back to inside my head. I'm not gonna trauma dump on him, especially considering that after a few weeks we'll go back to being strangers. So I give him an "away" response hoping he doesn't budge and he doesn't.

         After a long silence of eating our sandwiches and when neither one of us had anymore crust to snack on, Silas asked the question the main purpose of his visit here:

         "So.. math?"