Pieces of Me by Erica Cope

is though, I almost don't notice the tiny spark beginning to shimmer faintly every time I'm around him, but it's there, softly flickering in the darkness of my heart.
                  “Let's go,” he says as he holds open the door for me. I check to make sure the door is locked and follow him out into the parking lot outside of my apartment. 
                  “Is this place within walking distance?” I ask hopefully.
                  He chuckles before answering, “Nah. It's not far though. We can take my ride.”
                  “Where'd you park?” I don't see his piece of crap car anywhere. I'm guessing the minivan parked closest to us doesn't belong to him either, or the familiar black Subaru I refuse to even look at, which leaves the only other option...a very unfortunate option indeed. He chuckles instead of answering my question and I feel like I am about to be the butt of a really bad joke.
                  Just as I fear, Holden stops in front of the two-wheeled death machine. I feel the color drain from my face as my stomach drops to the ground in a nervous heap.
                  “You’ve got to be kidding me.” I freeze dead in my tracks. “I am not getting on that thing.”
                  He chuckles again as he pulls out an extra helmet.
                  “Seriously, there’s nothing you can say that will possibly get me to ride on that thing.”
                  He places the helmet on my head despite my protesting and adjusts the strap.
                  “Hmm.”
                  “What?”
                  “You look cute in a helmet.”
                  “Still not going to happen,” I tell him adamantly.
                  He swings my feet up and cradles me like an infant. I flail and kick, but it's no use. Before I know it he has me situated on the back of the bike and takes a step back to admire the view with a satisfied grin plastered on his face.
                  “I’m not going anywhere on this thing,” I say as I attempt to slide off, but he stops me before I make it very far.
                  “Could you just trust me?” His blue eyes are warm and I find myself unwittingly caught under his spell despite all of my efforts to act unaffected. I take a deep breath and nod. He climbs on and I hesitantly wrap my arms around his middle. I squeeze my eyes shut and hold on tightly as he revs the engine to life. I bravely open one eye to peek. He glances over his shoulder at me. “You might like it.”
                  “Don’t count on it, Buster,” I mutter under my breath.
                  He laughs and then we're flying out of the parking lot. I think of nothing but the cool wind rushing around me as we speed down the street. I take in the crisp fall air that is starting to carry the smell of burning leaves and cider mixed in with the heady scent that is all Holden.
                  He zips through the winding streets of the neighborhood until we're out on the main road in town.  Something about the other cars zooming past us makes me grip him even tighter and I feel the rumble of his laughter. He slows the bike down to a purr then he brings it to a complete stop in front of a local Italian bistro. He puts his feet down on the ground, straddling the bike to keep it steady before looking back over his shoulder.
                  “Still in one piece?”
                  “Barely,” I say trying to hide my smile which causes him to smile arrogantly in return. I hop off and remove my helmet, running my hands nervously through the dark tangled mess that is the current state of my hair. Normally I don’t care what I look like, but right now, standing with him in the seclusion of this practically empty parking lot, things feel