“This is what I’ve wanted, every day since I came here.” The freedom of the world, like there are no boundaries.
I thought I wanted to define my own rules, not the ones of my parents or my teachers. But that wasn’t it. I’ve wanted the freedom to define my life, the way I want to live it. I’m only discovering what that means. I can’t define my life until I know how I want to live it. I want this freedom, the limitless horizon.
I can’t believe I submitted the form to leave here early. I’m not allowed to come back here for years.
Taking the Fulbright was a mistake. I should have found some other way to come to France that would let me travel here again. But this was all I could afford.
I’m here now. I should enjoy this.
Behind me, Terrence has a very satisfied expression on his face. “It feels good, doesn’t it? The workout and then the goal at the end.”
“Yeah.” A smile transforms my face, and I can’t help it growing wider.
He wanted to give me this. This gift was not about the bike or riding with him. My body feels so alive: my muscles stronger, my limbs awake, my mind wrapped in euphoria.
Past us, the road continues upward, disappearing around the next bend. “There’s more?” I ask.
“Yup.” He follows my line of sight. “This is just the first view point. The road goes to the top of the Col d’Èze. It’s a professional grade climb. They use it for time trials in races. We ride it at least once a week.”
“You train on this?”
He nods. Pride bristles my chest and squares my shoulders. I made it up a hard hill, or part of one. Seeing the road go on makes me want to go all the way to the top. Maybe someday.
He unbuckles my helmet and cups my chin. “So worth it,” he whispers against my mouth.
His kiss is inviting, not taking or giving, just savoring. I lean into him. The excitement from the ride makes me greedy for more. My gratitude to him brews and bubbles from my mouth.
His body, his movements on the bike, those legs, and the playfulness—I wonder if he would play with me like that in bed.
I pull back and stare in surprise, searching his face. Does he know that I’m thinking about having sex with him?
His eyebrow quirks with amusement. “What?”
“Nothing.” But the denial doesn’t stop the flush running from my belly to my cheeks.
“Here. Eat this.” He hands me a protein bar and a bottle of water. “It will keep your sugar up until we get back to my place.”
I take a bite of the candy and chew, vigorously.
“The ride back is all downhill,” he says. “The descent is the best part.”
“I forgot about that.” I wiggle my hips. My sore bottom has no desire to get back on the bike seat. I forgot about it on the ride up but, ouch, it hurts now.
He pulls out his phone. “Selfie.”
I laugh. “No way.”
“Hell yes.” He turns our backs to the view and presses his cheek to mine. “Smile.” He holds up his phone, and it clicks twice.
I don’t do selfies. I think the whole thing is silly. I don’t want pictures of myself or to send them to other people. But he makes it fun. Maybe it’s more about taking the pictures than looking at them.
“Let’s go.” He hops on his bike.
It’s a balancing act to get my feet in the toe clips, and before I manage it, Terrence zooms ahead.
“Hurry up, slowpoke,” he teases from down the road. “This is the easy part.”
“I’m coming, hold on.” I spin my pedals a little, but going downhill the gear is too easy. I twist the brake levers like Terrence showed me.
It doesn’t work, or it does but I’m doing something else wrong. I try again, pushing harder, but I hear a loud clack , and it sounds like I’ve broken something. Then the pedals don’t work at all; it’s like spinning through air.
“Terrence!” I shout. “Wait up. Something’s wrong with my gears.” But before I finish, I hear a car behind me. I glance out the corner of my eye to see how close it is.
I look back for too
I thought I wanted to define my own rules, not the ones of my parents or my teachers. But that wasn’t it. I’ve wanted the freedom to define my life, the way I want to live it. I’m only discovering what that means. I can’t define my life until I know how I want to live it. I want this freedom, the limitless horizon.
I can’t believe I submitted the form to leave here early. I’m not allowed to come back here for years.
Taking the Fulbright was a mistake. I should have found some other way to come to France that would let me travel here again. But this was all I could afford.
I’m here now. I should enjoy this.
Behind me, Terrence has a very satisfied expression on his face. “It feels good, doesn’t it? The workout and then the goal at the end.”
“Yeah.” A smile transforms my face, and I can’t help it growing wider.
He wanted to give me this. This gift was not about the bike or riding with him. My body feels so alive: my muscles stronger, my limbs awake, my mind wrapped in euphoria.
Past us, the road continues upward, disappearing around the next bend. “There’s more?” I ask.
“Yup.” He follows my line of sight. “This is just the first view point. The road goes to the top of the Col d’Èze. It’s a professional grade climb. They use it for time trials in races. We ride it at least once a week.”
“You train on this?”
He nods. Pride bristles my chest and squares my shoulders. I made it up a hard hill, or part of one. Seeing the road go on makes me want to go all the way to the top. Maybe someday.
He unbuckles my helmet and cups my chin. “So worth it,” he whispers against my mouth.
His kiss is inviting, not taking or giving, just savoring. I lean into him. The excitement from the ride makes me greedy for more. My gratitude to him brews and bubbles from my mouth.
His body, his movements on the bike, those legs, and the playfulness—I wonder if he would play with me like that in bed.
I pull back and stare in surprise, searching his face. Does he know that I’m thinking about having sex with him?
His eyebrow quirks with amusement. “What?”
“Nothing.” But the denial doesn’t stop the flush running from my belly to my cheeks.
“Here. Eat this.” He hands me a protein bar and a bottle of water. “It will keep your sugar up until we get back to my place.”
I take a bite of the candy and chew, vigorously.
“The ride back is all downhill,” he says. “The descent is the best part.”
“I forgot about that.” I wiggle my hips. My sore bottom has no desire to get back on the bike seat. I forgot about it on the ride up but, ouch, it hurts now.
He pulls out his phone. “Selfie.”
I laugh. “No way.”
“Hell yes.” He turns our backs to the view and presses his cheek to mine. “Smile.” He holds up his phone, and it clicks twice.
I don’t do selfies. I think the whole thing is silly. I don’t want pictures of myself or to send them to other people. But he makes it fun. Maybe it’s more about taking the pictures than looking at them.
“Let’s go.” He hops on his bike.
It’s a balancing act to get my feet in the toe clips, and before I manage it, Terrence zooms ahead.
“Hurry up, slowpoke,” he teases from down the road. “This is the easy part.”
“I’m coming, hold on.” I spin my pedals a little, but going downhill the gear is too easy. I twist the brake levers like Terrence showed me.
It doesn’t work, or it does but I’m doing something else wrong. I try again, pushing harder, but I hear a loud clack , and it sounds like I’ve broken something. Then the pedals don’t work at all; it’s like spinning through air.
“Terrence!” I shout. “Wait up. Something’s wrong with my gears.” But before I finish, I hear a car behind me. I glance out the corner of my eye to see how close it is.
I look back for too
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