It Would've Been You

IX

"𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐋𝐎𝐎𝐊 𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐑𝐈𝐁𝐋𝐄," I say, sounding more spiteful than I should've. She looks exhausted, and stressed, like she hasn't slept in a while. I'm almost tempted to ask her what's wrong.

"Thank you for stating the obvious, asshole."

I smile.

"So, who ruined your day?" I ask, leaning back on the couch.

She doesn't respond.

I didn't expect anything more, she never speaks to me unless necessary, and her eyes haven't shifted from the floor since she sat here. We've finalized the plans for our project. And now, we're sitting in my living room.

The house maiden walks into the room, handing Morgan a glass of water. This is the first time I've seen her smile at anyone.

She looks pretty when she does — in an awkward way.

Like she rarely finds anything to smile about, and the concept is new to her. Her mouth twitches a little, trying to find the expression that makes her look the most genuine.

When the lady leaves, I study Morgan's face again.

"You don't have to stare." Her words bring me back to my senses.

"Are you always like this?" I shift my position.

Once again, she doesn't bother to answer my question.

I don't know why I'm trying to get through to her. She doesn't want a thing to do with me. But I'd rather speak than sit and watch someone sulk for the next hour. She needs someone to talk to. Anyone could see the loneliness in her eyes.

"Can I take you somewhere?" I ask.

She looks me in the eyes, and I'm a bit relieved.

"Where?"

"Somewhere." I stand up, shoving my hands in my pockets.

"Ever been on a motorcycle before?"

This past week, I've been riding for hours straight. I find an empty parking lot, or building where I can sit alone and smoke until I lose track of time and end up watching the sunrise.

It isn't helping, of course.

But when I'm on my bike, recklessly swerving through cars, my head is clear. For a moment, at least.

"I promise, it's nothing weird," I add when her body language returns to its closed-off state. She doesn't make an effort to move from the couch.

I'm going to hate myself for this.

"Please?"

She stares at me blankly.

"I'm supposed to trust you?" Morgan crosses her arms.

She shouldn't. She doesn't have a reason to. But what does she think I'm going to do, try to have sex with her?

I won't get on my knees and beg her to follow me. I grab my keys on the coffee table and turn to leave the room. "Suit yourself," I mutter.

I don't expect her to stay in the house for long. I lean against my motorcycle, waiting patiently for her to come outside. Not even a minute goes by before I see the door opening, and the maiden waving her goodbye.

She walks down the driveway, hardly paying any attention to me, or the helmet I'm extending to her.

"You don't wear any gear?"

"Where's the thrill in that?"

"Most bike crashes are deadly." She says, like this is new information to me.