weekends.
“Sorry, Gram.”
“You’ve been saying that a lot lately.”
We drive in silence the rest of the way home.
~
The text comes at 8pm.
408 10th Ave
I slide my phone back into my pocket and stick my head into the living room.
“Hey Gram, I’m going to run to the store and grab some ice cream. You want anything?”
“No thanks.” She doesn’t look at me and I’m glad.
I slip my shoes on and head to the garage. The guilt of lying to Gram again fills my thoughts. I’m not paying attention as I push my motorbike out onto the street and almost run over Talia.
“What are you doing here?” I hiss at her and by the hurt expression on her face I’m guessing it came out wrong.
She slams the box she’s holding into my chest. I brace my bike with my legs, trying not to drop either.
“Bringing this stuff by for Georgina. It’s Nan’s notes for the sale. She wants us to go over it.” Her voice is tight. Her arms are straight by her side. She is so rigid. So closed off.
Gram’s right, she really doesn’t like me. Or maybe she’s just uptight, as straight as those knitting needles she loves so much, and talks to everyone like that. I don’t know, I barely know her. But something about her intrigues me. Something about the way she switches on and off. There’s more to her. I’ve never been curious like this about someone, until this afternoon at the meeting. How her skin felt when I took her hand. How everything around her was neat and in order and her knitting needles were lined up from biggest to smallest. How, from out of nowhere, she flared to life and shut me down without even blinking.
I press the kickstand down with my heel and prop my bike on it. Steadying the box she forced into my arms, I walk back to the garage. I stop when I see the spare helmet hanging on the wall.
No way , I think. This chick would never.
But that just makes me want to try.
“Did you walk here?” I whisper.
“Yeah, I don’t live too far away. Why are you whispering? Where are you going?”
I grab the second helmet off the peg. I have no idea what I’m thinking but I hold it out to her. She stares at me with those huge blue eyes and I have an overwhelming need to uproot her sheltered existence. It’s an overpowering feeling and I know I should just walk away. I should leave her standing on our driveway and preserve her innocence but something about her, something about the way she looks at me, makes me want to drag her down into my world. Bring her to my level so I don’t feel so alone anymore. I get the feeling that she’s like me. Alone.
“Put it on,” I say.
“But...”
“Please.” I place the helmet on her head, clipping the strap under her trembling chin.
I flip up the bike stand and swing my leg over, kicking the bike to life. The motor rumbles, masking the thunderous sound of my heart against my ribs.
What the fuck am I doing?
“Get on.” I have to yell. Talia doesn’t move. I hold my hand out to her and she stares at it.
“Come on, trust me, Hat Girl.”
She slowly takes my hand and I pull her to the bike. To me. She lifts her leg and adjusts herself behind me. I wrap her arm around my waist and glance over my shoulder at her. Her eyes are wide, shocked, and I get a sick sense of pleasure from it. This girl has probably never let go, she has probably never done anything wrong in her life. I grab her other hand and bring it around me too.
“Hold on,” I say over the loud hum of the engine. She presses herself into my back and balls the front of my shirt into her fists. Her fingers dig into my skin.
Part of me says stop, to let her get off and go home, to tell her to forget I even exist and to never speak to me again. But another part of me feels like it’s the right thing to do. I need to bring her with me. I need her with me. I hate this feeling. Even more, I hate that I don’t know where this feeling is coming from.
I race through the
“Sorry, Gram.”
“You’ve been saying that a lot lately.”
We drive in silence the rest of the way home.
~
The text comes at 8pm.
408 10th Ave
I slide my phone back into my pocket and stick my head into the living room.
“Hey Gram, I’m going to run to the store and grab some ice cream. You want anything?”
“No thanks.” She doesn’t look at me and I’m glad.
I slip my shoes on and head to the garage. The guilt of lying to Gram again fills my thoughts. I’m not paying attention as I push my motorbike out onto the street and almost run over Talia.
“What are you doing here?” I hiss at her and by the hurt expression on her face I’m guessing it came out wrong.
She slams the box she’s holding into my chest. I brace my bike with my legs, trying not to drop either.
“Bringing this stuff by for Georgina. It’s Nan’s notes for the sale. She wants us to go over it.” Her voice is tight. Her arms are straight by her side. She is so rigid. So closed off.
Gram’s right, she really doesn’t like me. Or maybe she’s just uptight, as straight as those knitting needles she loves so much, and talks to everyone like that. I don’t know, I barely know her. But something about her intrigues me. Something about the way she switches on and off. There’s more to her. I’ve never been curious like this about someone, until this afternoon at the meeting. How her skin felt when I took her hand. How everything around her was neat and in order and her knitting needles were lined up from biggest to smallest. How, from out of nowhere, she flared to life and shut me down without even blinking.
I press the kickstand down with my heel and prop my bike on it. Steadying the box she forced into my arms, I walk back to the garage. I stop when I see the spare helmet hanging on the wall.
No way , I think. This chick would never.
But that just makes me want to try.
“Did you walk here?” I whisper.
“Yeah, I don’t live too far away. Why are you whispering? Where are you going?”
I grab the second helmet off the peg. I have no idea what I’m thinking but I hold it out to her. She stares at me with those huge blue eyes and I have an overwhelming need to uproot her sheltered existence. It’s an overpowering feeling and I know I should just walk away. I should leave her standing on our driveway and preserve her innocence but something about her, something about the way she looks at me, makes me want to drag her down into my world. Bring her to my level so I don’t feel so alone anymore. I get the feeling that she’s like me. Alone.
“Put it on,” I say.
“But...”
“Please.” I place the helmet on her head, clipping the strap under her trembling chin.
I flip up the bike stand and swing my leg over, kicking the bike to life. The motor rumbles, masking the thunderous sound of my heart against my ribs.
What the fuck am I doing?
“Get on.” I have to yell. Talia doesn’t move. I hold my hand out to her and she stares at it.
“Come on, trust me, Hat Girl.”
She slowly takes my hand and I pull her to the bike. To me. She lifts her leg and adjusts herself behind me. I wrap her arm around my waist and glance over my shoulder at her. Her eyes are wide, shocked, and I get a sick sense of pleasure from it. This girl has probably never let go, she has probably never done anything wrong in her life. I grab her other hand and bring it around me too.
“Hold on,” I say over the loud hum of the engine. She presses herself into my back and balls the front of my shirt into her fists. Her fingers dig into my skin.
Part of me says stop, to let her get off and go home, to tell her to forget I even exist and to never speak to me again. But another part of me feels like it’s the right thing to do. I need to bring her with me. I need her with me. I hate this feeling. Even more, I hate that I don’t know where this feeling is coming from.
I race through the
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