just rides. Paying attention to where he's going. Taking turns, going straight, making his own path in some cases.
And then we stop.
He cuts the engine and turns his head a little, not far enough so I can see his face, just enough to let me know he's talking to me.
"Gotta push the bike from here, I think. Too many trees. No one's been out this way in almost ten years."
"Where are we?"
He turns around all the way now, making the bike go off balance, and I slip to the side and fall off in slow motion, just like that little girl on her pony yesterday.
"You speak English?" He gazes down at me with an incredulous look on his face as I sit in the mud for the second time today. I didn't really mean to speak English, it just slipped out. "And you're American."
My one leg is still sorta stuck on the bike, while the other is painfully twisted underneath me. "Can you help me up? Or what?"
He lowers the stand and my jeans are pulled a little with the change in position. I'm stuck on something and when I jerk my leg to free it, I hear a rip.
Crap.
He studies my captor, a bit of bent metal at the back of the seat, and then he frees my pant leg and offers his hand for the second time today.
I take it. Again.
"I think you owe me an explanation."
"Do I?" I ask him coyly. He's not amused but he doesn't push it either, just shrugs and points towards nothing as far as I can tell.
"It's just right over there."
He doesn't wait for me to follow, or even look back to check and see if I am. It's like he knows I'll follow and that puts me off a little. Makes me want to not follow. But of course I will. What else am I gonna do? He bought me some time, the least I can do it try to enjoy it.
I study him from behind, not his butt, although that is quite nice. I study his back, the way it moves under his t-shirt, the way his biceps and back change in small subtle ways as the muscles work when he pushes the bike over a log, and how he looks back at me with a smile after he gets it over—his bright blue eyes twinkling along with the golden hair that lines his cheeks. He's still unshaven. The days of not shaving make him really look bad in all the right ways.
His shirt is a mess and I look down at my own clothes. The front of me is not so bad, but, I twist to see my own butt, I'm covered in mud from behind. When I turn back, he's watching me.
"What?"
"My brothers came and told me you were back yesterday, so the first thing I did was go down to Sean's work and see if it was true."
He continues pushing the bike, but stops talking and waits, like he wants me to say something.
"OK."
"He confirmed it," he continues, "and since that second I've thought of nothing else but you."
He stops to look back at me. Not just stops talking to look back, I mean he stops. Stops pushing the bike. It takes me a second to realize we're stopped. And by that time I'm right up next to him.
"I had this whole plan of how I was gonna talk to you using a translate app on my phone." He laughs and dimples emerge as he takes me in. His whole face lights up with his thoughts, and then he pulls out his phone and speaks into it very softly. He reaches out and before I can even decide if I'd like him to touch me or not, he's right there, his body pushing against me. He puts his hand on my shoulder so he can pull me even closer, so close that there is almost no space between us. And then holds the phone up to my ear as it repeats his words in Italian.
I have to take a deep breath because he said, I never stopped looking for you, Fee. And he doesn't even look embarrassed, even though he said it in two languages, both of which I understood.
He's definitely not embarrassed. He is something else.
And it's not happiness either, although that's probably part of it.
He exudes relief .
I let out a long breath. "Brody, this is not that simple and it's not what you think, I am not back. So please, do not get attached to me."
His face falls and it hurts a little to watch it.
And then we stop.
He cuts the engine and turns his head a little, not far enough so I can see his face, just enough to let me know he's talking to me.
"Gotta push the bike from here, I think. Too many trees. No one's been out this way in almost ten years."
"Where are we?"
He turns around all the way now, making the bike go off balance, and I slip to the side and fall off in slow motion, just like that little girl on her pony yesterday.
"You speak English?" He gazes down at me with an incredulous look on his face as I sit in the mud for the second time today. I didn't really mean to speak English, it just slipped out. "And you're American."
My one leg is still sorta stuck on the bike, while the other is painfully twisted underneath me. "Can you help me up? Or what?"
He lowers the stand and my jeans are pulled a little with the change in position. I'm stuck on something and when I jerk my leg to free it, I hear a rip.
Crap.
He studies my captor, a bit of bent metal at the back of the seat, and then he frees my pant leg and offers his hand for the second time today.
I take it. Again.
"I think you owe me an explanation."
"Do I?" I ask him coyly. He's not amused but he doesn't push it either, just shrugs and points towards nothing as far as I can tell.
"It's just right over there."
He doesn't wait for me to follow, or even look back to check and see if I am. It's like he knows I'll follow and that puts me off a little. Makes me want to not follow. But of course I will. What else am I gonna do? He bought me some time, the least I can do it try to enjoy it.
I study him from behind, not his butt, although that is quite nice. I study his back, the way it moves under his t-shirt, the way his biceps and back change in small subtle ways as the muscles work when he pushes the bike over a log, and how he looks back at me with a smile after he gets it over—his bright blue eyes twinkling along with the golden hair that lines his cheeks. He's still unshaven. The days of not shaving make him really look bad in all the right ways.
His shirt is a mess and I look down at my own clothes. The front of me is not so bad, but, I twist to see my own butt, I'm covered in mud from behind. When I turn back, he's watching me.
"What?"
"My brothers came and told me you were back yesterday, so the first thing I did was go down to Sean's work and see if it was true."
He continues pushing the bike, but stops talking and waits, like he wants me to say something.
"OK."
"He confirmed it," he continues, "and since that second I've thought of nothing else but you."
He stops to look back at me. Not just stops talking to look back, I mean he stops. Stops pushing the bike. It takes me a second to realize we're stopped. And by that time I'm right up next to him.
"I had this whole plan of how I was gonna talk to you using a translate app on my phone." He laughs and dimples emerge as he takes me in. His whole face lights up with his thoughts, and then he pulls out his phone and speaks into it very softly. He reaches out and before I can even decide if I'd like him to touch me or not, he's right there, his body pushing against me. He puts his hand on my shoulder so he can pull me even closer, so close that there is almost no space between us. And then holds the phone up to my ear as it repeats his words in Italian.
I have to take a deep breath because he said, I never stopped looking for you, Fee. And he doesn't even look embarrassed, even though he said it in two languages, both of which I understood.
He's definitely not embarrassed. He is something else.
And it's not happiness either, although that's probably part of it.
He exudes relief .
I let out a long breath. "Brody, this is not that simple and it's not what you think, I am not back. So please, do not get attached to me."
His face falls and it hurts a little to watch it.
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