If I Had A Heart

Chapter 9

Regine gulped, frantically searching her mind for a decent excuse that wouldn't make her sound like a total buzzkill in front of him.

It wasn't that she didn't want a ride on the back his motorcycle, feeling deprived of his touch after being denied their usual meeting in the Pink Room that night –– thanks a lot Jerry –– but something was still preventing her from taking him up on his offer. Perhaps it was precisely because the act of wrapping her arms around his toned abdomen was almost too appealing to her, leaving her increasingly afraid and anxious to even look at him in the eye now. Not only that, but the familiar comfort of her bed was calling her name, where she was safe and alone, undisturbed in her own little world. Protected.

And yet...

The expression on his face as he looked at her now could only be described as pure sin incarnate, almost daring her to accept his offer. This boy was going to be the death of her, she swore inwardly.

"I don't have a helmet," she stated dumbly, matching his stance by crossing her arms and glancing at the Triumph parked behind him, its opaque blackness and threatening size practically screaming 'danger.'

He shook his head, the silver of his earring catching her eye under the dim yellow light above him. "Don't need one."

Regine was still not convinced and it must have shown on her face because he placed his hand over his heart and smiled with oversaturated sweetness. "You got nothing to worry about, Regine. I promise."

She chewed on her lip as she deliberated. Who knew if she'd ever get this opportunity again, his offer expiring after her second rejection once and for all. He seemed to be over his weird moodiness from their talk in the dressing room, but she wasn't sure she wanted to push his buttons anymore that night. Thinking back to their discussion on the Ferris wheel, Regine had mulled over all of the missed opportunities she had let fly by her over the years because of her apprehensiveness, always overthinking everything until eventually convincing herself out of trying anything new. Her body ached, muscles feeling sluggish and weak, the ever present dull pain in her neck making it difficult for her to turn her head even just a few inches. She doubted her present physical state would be strong enough to defend against another run-in with Jerry, no matter how angry she was at him. Pure will alone would not be enough to overpower a spurned, volatile man who wanted to hurt her. It would probably be good for her to relax on David's bike rather than embark alone on her journey home on foot, more responsible.

Yeah, that was it.

"You know what? Why the hell not," she resolved, closing the distance between them with a few steps in his direction. "Just don't go all Evel Knieval on me, alright?"

He pivoted, swinging one leg over the shining black bike and grasping one of the handlebars to balance himself.

"Wouldn't dream of it," he mocked, holding his hand out for her. "C'mere."

Still a little wary, she reached out to meet him with shaking fingers, feeling him draw her closer to where he was seated. Using their intertwined fingers to steady herself, she copied his movement and swung her leg over the side, placing herself behind him and thanking the gods she had decided to wear her black skinny jeans and heavy blazer that night. Hesitant to touch him at first, she kept her arms at her sides, awkwardly sitting there until she heard him clear his throat in front of her.

This shouldn't have been as nerve-wracking as it was, the memory of her hands roaming up and down David's body in the Pink Room reminding her that this was not foreign territory here. For some reason, it just felt more real in this moment, touching him intimately – out in the open and for free no less. He wasn't paying her to ride on his motorcycle, all of this being on her own free will, intimidating her to the point that she had to stifle the need to run away like the scared weakling she was. Knowing he wouldn't start the engine until she was in position, her hands reluctantly found their way to the sides his body, gently pressing against his leather jacket covered waist, fingers nowhere near close enough to meet around his middle. Taking this as progress, David wasted no time starting the engine, making it roar to life as he glanced down at her small hands, letting the bike warm up before taking off.