OK here's the next part :D
So I took a while thinking of ideas and I took the one I liked most :))
______________________________________________________
______________________________________________________
I was about to climb on to the motorcycle when Mr. Miller pulled my arm back. "What?" I asked.
"What do you mean 'What'?" He pulled me into the garage and made me stand against the left wall.
I shifted my foot from side to side nervously. "What are you doing?"
"Getting you some safety gear," he grunted, pulling out a huge box from the corner of the room. From the way a cloud of dust engulfed it, I could tell it had been under that shelf for a long time.
As the cloud surrounded him, Mr. Miller coughed out, his face becoming red and nose puffy. I stepped towards him, he was leaned over with his hands on his knees. "Are you okay?" I asked nervously.
He grinned up at me, still coughing, and put up a hand, nodding vigorously. He stood and dug into his pocket for something. He then pulled it out and turned away from me, guarding it from my sight.
"What's that?" I asked, as he took a deep breath. It sounded vaguely familiar, life a huge puff of...air. "Oh my God," I giggled, coming in front of him to see what it was. "You have asthma?" I remembered that sound from anywhere, Hayden had asthma.
"No," he said, blushing and insistently hiding the inhaler behind his back.
I laughed and jumped to get it. He kept pulling it back behind him and above him, so I leaned in and kissed him dead on the lips. He froze and stared at me wide-eyed, breath catching in his throat. I rolled my eyes and pulled the inhaler toward me. It was white with a little red top and cap.
He put his head down and mumbled into his chest.
"It's cute," I reassured him, giving him a peck on the cheek.
He coughed, grabbed it back and stuffed it into his pocket, mumbling, "It's embarrassing." He turned back to the box and dug inside it for something. He pulled out a huge, and by huge I mean gigantic, leather jacket that looked like it belonged to Barney.
Then, when I thought it couldn't get any worse, he pulled out two huge gloves, and a pair of dusty sunglasses. When I stuck my hand out for them reluctantly, he pulled the dusty coat over my shoulders. Even though it was ugly and frankly made for a giant, I couldn't help but blush as he zipped it up and carefully pulled up the collar. He was about to pull on the gloves when I pushed them back. "Why do I have to wear THIS?" I asked, pulling at the huge garment.
"So you won't get hurt," he explained, stepping behind me. Grabbing my hands from behind me, he rested his head on my shoulder and pulled at the gloves, moving them gently over my hands and fingers. I didn't know why, but it send warm tingles all the way down my spine. I jumped, the way you do when you suddenly get excited and bumped against him. He grunted and I felt something harden behind me.
He coughed and pulled away from me quickly, throwing the glasses to me. I put them on, after rubbing them against my coat. As he led the way out of the garage, closing the door behind him and putting on a pair of Armani shades himself, I walked up to the motorcycle. I looked in the side mirrors and nearly jumped at the creepy hobo-like image I saw in them.
I looked like a moron, with a huge jacket many sizes too big, basketball shorts that nearly reached my ankles, gloves that hung off me like a scarecrow's, a helmet clasped around my straight hair, and a large pair of glasses that looked like they belonged to the Beatles.
