Before I can embarrass myself further, Ruby comes around to my side, giving me a reassuring smile. “I’ll be riding with Jim, right beside you.”
I nod and give her a small smile, praying that she can’t see how excited I really am. Having lived my entire life in what amounts to, essentially, a glass bubble, the prospect of getting out and doing something wild is exhilarating.
As the bikers talk amongst themselves, Ruby leads me away with Ryan and Jim hot on our heels. I focus on putting one foot in front of the other. We come around the van to the bikes haphazardly parked, set-up on their kickstands, in a large cluster. I can’t make out which one is Ryan’s. They all look the same—black and chrome with worn leather seats and cargo bags strapped to the sides. They each appear to have something unique about them. One has a second seat, another has a backrest, and a third has red flames painted into the black. Despite some of the wear and tear, each bike is obviously loved and cared for.
A heavy arm rests on my shoulders. Instinctively, I know it’s Ryan. He has this particular scent of leather and his own personal musk. Looking up at him, I catch the half-smirk on his face and allow myself to gift him a small smirk of my own.
“Trying to figure out which one’s mine?”
I shake my head, fighting the impending laugh, “They’re very similar looking.” He bends his arm at the elbow, closing in on my head until he has me in a full-on head-grip. Swatting at his chest, I giggle uncontrollably. Urged on by my reaction, he reaches up with his other hand and rubs his knuckles across the top of my head until I have no doubt that my hair’s a mess.
“My bike is nothing like the rest of them,” he grinds out. He firms up his grip on my head, turning my body in toward his. My eyes are closed, letting the rest of my senses take over. I breathe him in, enjoying every bit of who he is that I can. There’s something in the way that he’s strong and playful at the same time. He keeps me close to him, tucked snugly into his chest. For just a brief moment, as I’m inhaling his scent and his warmth, the rest of the world melts away. There is no danger, no fear, and no rough and rowdy bikers around us. There’s just me and Ryan.
When Ryan finally lets go of my head, I pull back, smack his chest one final time, and attempt to smooth down my hair. I keep my scowl in place, almost daring him to do it again.
“You messed up my hair,” I accuse. He gives me a flat look and steps back, leaning on one of the bikes. Nobody moves to protest, so I assume the bike is his.
Ryan’s bike is a Harley-Davidson—I think they’re all Harleys—but his does look different from the others. While all of the other bikes are chrome with shiny black paint, Ryan’s paint job is a black matte finish. The word FORSAKEN is painted over the matte in a shiny black finish. Without taking his eyes off mine, he reaches for his helmet and hands it to me. Clumsily, I grapple with the thing, surprised by its weight. It looks rather dinky, unlike the one my brother has. Where Michael’s helmet has a window for him to see and covers his entire head, Ryan’s merely covers the top of his head, leaving his face exposed to the elements.
“Careful, you drop that and it’s no good,” he says. Immediately, I tighten my grip on the helmet and hold it to my chest. I don’t really know what he means, but he’s asked me to be careful. I don’t want to ruin his things.
“You’re going to need to put it on your head,” Ruby says. She comes up beside me and takes the helmet from my sweaty palms. Placing it on my head, she brushes errant hairs from my face. She’s so close, her eyes are fixed on mine. Her large brown eyes and heart-shaped face contort painfully in a rush of emotion. She brings her hands to my cheeks as her eyes pool with unshed tears. She gives a small smile and whispers, “You’re beautiful.”
She looks so much like my mother, it’s almost unbearable.
Jim comes up behind Ruby and places a helmet on her head. It looks exactly like Ryan’s. As he snaps hers into place almost blindly, she pulls herself together and snaps mine into place as well. It’s feels a little loose, but I decide not to make it an issue. There’s too much going on in my brain right now to worry about it.
Turning back to Ryan, I see he hasn’t moved. His expression is a cross between indifference and sorrow, I just can’t decide which. I wait a moment until he snaps out of it and moves to sit in riding position. With his hands gripping the handlebars he gives me a quick nod and a mischievous smile. I walk awkwardly to the bike, trying to calm my nerves. Having watched these men ride for the past few days, I’ve been both curious and nervous about the prospect of getting on a bike. Up until now, only in my fantasies have I been able to passenger with Ryan.