The Truth Is... (Korra/OC and a Korrasami Fan Fic)

Chapter 1

“Why would I ever let you try to drive my motorcycle? You’re terrible at driving a car!” I shout.

“I just haven’t got the hang of it! Come on, Rolo! Just this once?” Korra pleads.

“My name isn’t Rolo.”

“I’ll stop calling you Rolo if you let me try.”

“We’re both going to die, but if it’ll get you to stop calling me that then whatever.”

“Yay! Thanks!”

Korra hugs me and jumps onto the motorcycle. I sigh and run a hand down my face before sitting behind her. She turns her head around so that I can tell her what to do. Our faces are only an inch apart and I hope she doesn’t notice that I’m blushing right now. Thankfully her excitement about getting to drive the motorcycle seems to not allow her to notice that my face is turning as red as my shirt.

“Okay, that trigger in front of your left hand is the clutch. Go ahead and squeeze it.” I instruct.

“Nothing happened.” Korra frowns.

“Nothing is supposed to happen. The throttle is where your right hand is. Roll your hand back towards me. That noise is the engine preparing itself for an early demise.”

“Hey!”

Korra turns around and slaps my shoulder. I laugh before telling her to turn around. She turns around and puts both hands on the handle bars. One clutching the clutch and one hovering over the throttle. We both take a deep breath before I tell her what to do next.

“Don’t do anything yet, just listen. What you’re going to do next is gently release the clutch while rolling back on the throttle. Don’t do it too quickly or we’re going to end up inside that building in about five seconds. Which reminds me that we don’t have helmets, so try not to hit anything too solid? Going off of the pier would be a comfortable fall, well as comfortable as anything else.” I say.

“Your doubt is really helping me here. As if I’m not nervous enough.” Korra turns around to pout at me.

Unfortunately she let go of the clutch but not the throttle. The bike lurches forward and Korra quickly lets go of the throttle. We jerk to a stop and go tumbling over the handle bars. I wrap my arms around Korra as we lurch forward and manage to twist in mid-air so that she doesn’t face plant on the pavement. We skid about ten feet before my shoulder hits a stop sign and stops our momentum. Neither of us moves for a second.

“Are you okay?!” Korra asks as she rolls off of me and helps me sit up.

“I think so. A little road rash maybe.” I groan as pain shoots across my back.

“Take off your shirt.”

“What?”

“Not like that. I need to see if you’re hurt.”