Your Loyal Servant

(11) He's Popular?

My ass hurt.

As it turned out, riding tandem like this hurt more than I'd expected. With the bumps and turns and rocks, they took their toll on an ass on such a small seat. And it wasn't meant to be a seat; now I knew why—it was not comfortable.

Freaky glanced over his shoulder at me for the tenth time, eyes misted with worry. He suggested, "I'm sure the ride would be a lot easier if you put your arms around me."

I sent him a hard glare, and my grip tightened. I informed him through clenched teeth, "That's not the issue here."

He released a disappointed sigh. "It wouldn't be so hard on your backside," he pointed out, voice quiet, "but if you wish to sit like that, then I will not argue otherwise."

We continued to ride in silence, and it was awkward. After all, my bike wasn't meant to be ridden by two people at the same time. But he was determined to take me there, because he was convinced it was too much work for me.

But it must've been difficult for him. Not only did he have to pedal himself up hills, but he had added weight to worry about as well. It surprised me that he wasn't out of breath or even struggling in the slightest—he must've been stronger than he appeared.

He rode over a bump, and I came crashing down onto the seat again. I groaned in pain, trying to suppress the involuntary sound that escaped. Unfortunately, he heard and glanced at me once more.

His lips pursed and his jaw set in concern. He suggested another alternative: "Perhaps you could try sitting in the basket. I'm sure it wouldn't be quite as unforgiving as sitting there."

I snorted. "You kidding me? There is no way I'm sitting in the basket. I will not be Little Miss Daisy. Besides, I'm wearing a skirt," I reminded him, looking to the street.

The cars drove by, their drivers and passengers oblivious to the pain I was experiencing. They had no idea I had a servant who didn't look like it but was actually a stubborn ass, and he forced me to ride tandem to school.

Okay, maybe he didn't force me. It was partly my fault for getting myself in this predicament, because I liked the idea of being lazy. And, hey, he offered—I would've been branded a fool had I let the opportunity go. But now it was biting me in the ass. Oh, why did I have to be so lazy?

He bowed his head and kept his mouth shut. He had given me my options, and now that I had kicked them to the curb, he knew it was pointless to bicker further.

Soon, the top of the school came into view, and that was my cue.

I announced, "I'm getting off here."

He glanced at me, hesitant. "Are you sure?" he questioned. "There is still quite a large distance to travel before you reach the school grounds."

"Positive," I assured him, nodding once.

When he stopped the bike, I hopped to the ground, stretching and groaning—sweet relief on my buttocks. I grabbed my bag from the basket, saluted to The Freak, and then went on my way.

He started pedaling, almost as though he were trying to keep pace with me. But when I sent him a glare that suggested he'd better get going if he didn't want to get hit, he sighed and sped past me.

Well, he didn't lie—the school was definitely a ways away. But I finally made it ten minutes later to find my bike chained to the rack and Apple and Selma waiting beside it.