Rays of Hope

Ride or Ride

Ria's POV

"Get ready for the ride of your life."

"You're not going to go too fast, right?" I ask, eyeing Silas's bike with a mix of excitement and nervousness.

He spins me around gently and collects my hair in his hands. "You're safe with me."

"Funny how that doesn't answer my question."

"I'm not going to push my bike to the limit with you on the back."

"I don't like the idea of you pushing it to the limit at all."

"I don't anymore. Not like I used to."

I pause, feeling his fingers deftly working through my hair. "Are you... braiding my hair?"

"It'll get tangled if I don't. Perks of having many younger sisters, I guess."

"If you need a hair tie—" I start.

"Got one." He slips the black hair tie off his wrist and wraps it around the end of the braid. Then he takes the helmet off his bike seat and carefully pushes it over my head.

He bought me a riding jacket and gloves so I wouldn't have to keep wearing his. His eyes meet mine as he tilts my head and adjusts the buckle under my chin. "Promise me you won't let me die?"

He tugs the bottom of my helmet until it clinks against his. "If you feel unsafe or scared at any time, you can tell me to slow down and I will. But I promise, I will always be careful with your life in my hands."

I nod, feeling reassured. "Okay."

He turns to his bike, gesturing to the electronic screen between the handlebars. "So, once you turn the key and everything lights up, you're going to hit the kill switch over here. This is what turns the bike on and off. And then this button underneath ignites the engine."

I lean over to glance down at everything he showed me. "Can I start it?"

"Go for it, princess."

I reach out and go through the steps he just showed me, and then the bike roars to life. Silas mounts the bike and lifts the kickstand before holding out his hand for me. I step onto the peg and swing my leg over to the other side, sliding my hands around his waist.

"I'm going to teach you how to be a good backpack."

"A backpack?"

"That's what it's called when someone rides as a passenger because you're clinging to me like a backpack. So, you don't want to lean too much against me, especially when I'm stopping. You can brace one hand against the gas tank here." He takes one of my hands and plants it in front of him. "When I lean into a turn, we won't fall over. Just go with the motion of the bike. And when I tap you like this," he reaches his hand back and taps my knee, "you hold on tight."

"Got it," I say, he heard me through the speakers in the helmets.

We pull out of the driveway and onto the main road. Silas takes his time, weaving in and out of traffic.

"How are you doing back there?" he asks several minutes into the ride.

"Good. You can go a little faster if you want."

He chuckles, and then twists the throttle to accelerate.

With my arms wrapped around Silas, it's like I've unlocked a new level of peace. His body pressed against mine, holding onto him for security, trusting him to protect me.

It's intimate. It means something.

When we reach our destination about twenty minutes later, Silas slows down and pulls off the road to park. We stand and stretch, hanging our helmets off each handle.