long. When I look straight again, I’m in the middle of a hairpin turn.
There’s no way I’ll make the turn in time—I either go into the car or into the woods. I scream and squeeze my brakes as hard as I can. I try to put my feet down but they’re stuck in the damn pedals again.
The car gets closer, louder.
I squeeze the brakes until my hands burn. I get my feet out of the pedals, but too late. I go off the road, bumping over the ditch, and crash into a bush.
I land in a pile of branches and leaves. My legs are tangled in the bike, and there’s a rock jammed against my thigh.
But that’s not the worst part. It happened so fast, I barely know what happened. I hear crying and swearing, and don’t realize it’s coming from me until Terrence is beside me.
“Lia, are you okay?” He frees me from the bike, and he pulls me out of the branches, off the rock, and onto soft grass.
“I hate this—this stupid bike.” I kick it and wipe my nose. “I told you I can’t ride.”
The helmet bobs on my head, and I can’t get it off. My fingers shake too much to undo the clasp. “Get it off me!” I cry, my heart bursting with panic. “The car—it—it almost hit me.” I hiccup, and when my helmet is gone, I bury my face in my knees. “I couldn’t get the bike to stop and then it was too late to turn and I—”
Terrence wraps his arm around my shoulders. “It’s all right. You’re okay.” He rubs my arm. “You did good. Falling in the bushes is the best place to go.”
“I guess.”
“Way better than the street,” he says lightly.
“Or the car.”
“Yes. The car would have been bad.”
I smile a little and let my head flop on his shoulder. Being closer to him helps.
He kisses my forehead and hugs me. “Are you hurt or just scared?”
I internally check for pain. “Nothing’s broken.” I shift on my seat, and my hip stings. “Ow. I think I’ll have a nasty bruise from that rock.”
“Let me see your hands.” He lifts them, and there are scratches on the backs from the brambles, the heel of one hand scraped.
“Not too bad.” He mimes kisses over the rough spots.
“I broke the bike.”
“Broke? I doubt it.” He picks up the bike and clears away the branches. “The chain fell off. No big deal.” He fiddles with the gears and the brakes, then turns the pedals, fixing it like he’s lacing a pair of shoes.
“Want me to call Gary?” he says. “He can pick us up.”
He’s too nice. My mother would say, You’re not hurt. Get back on the bike . My father would tease me that I can never be a doctor if I cry over a bike crash.
“I’m okay,” I say. Part of it is bravado, I don’t want to be weak, but also, my wounds aren’t that bad. “How far is it?”
“Not far. Twenty minutes, coasting down to the Promenade. Can you make it?”
“I think so.”
He helps me stand. “I’ll make you a smoothie when we get there.” He wiggles his eyebrows, like it’s sexy.
I laugh. “A smoothie?”
“Best ride recovery drink ever.”
The words “I should go home and work” threaten at the back of my throat. But he’s looking at me the way he does. Like he wants to spend more time with me. His optimism is contagious.
“Okay.”
“Good.” He pecks a kiss on my cheek and hands me my bike.
Chapter Sixteen
It hurts. The bike seat pokes me in places a girl should never be poked, and my bruised thigh throbs like a motherfu—I mean, something not good. Terrence carries both our bikes up the stairs to his apartment. I waddle behind him, aching the whole way.
He stacks our bikes by the rest of the team’s fleet and opens the door for me. “I’ll get you some ice.”
Light from the wall of windows permeates the room. I limp into the apartment with a growling stomach. I could eat two croissants, right now.
The silence in the space is deafening. It screams intimacy, and while part of the reason I’ve come is for, hopefully, more kisses, now that I’m here I’m too nervous
There’s no way I’ll make the turn in time—I either go into the car or into the woods. I scream and squeeze my brakes as hard as I can. I try to put my feet down but they’re stuck in the damn pedals again.
The car gets closer, louder.
I squeeze the brakes until my hands burn. I get my feet out of the pedals, but too late. I go off the road, bumping over the ditch, and crash into a bush.
I land in a pile of branches and leaves. My legs are tangled in the bike, and there’s a rock jammed against my thigh.
But that’s not the worst part. It happened so fast, I barely know what happened. I hear crying and swearing, and don’t realize it’s coming from me until Terrence is beside me.
“Lia, are you okay?” He frees me from the bike, and he pulls me out of the branches, off the rock, and onto soft grass.
“I hate this—this stupid bike.” I kick it and wipe my nose. “I told you I can’t ride.”
The helmet bobs on my head, and I can’t get it off. My fingers shake too much to undo the clasp. “Get it off me!” I cry, my heart bursting with panic. “The car—it—it almost hit me.” I hiccup, and when my helmet is gone, I bury my face in my knees. “I couldn’t get the bike to stop and then it was too late to turn and I—”
Terrence wraps his arm around my shoulders. “It’s all right. You’re okay.” He rubs my arm. “You did good. Falling in the bushes is the best place to go.”
“I guess.”
“Way better than the street,” he says lightly.
“Or the car.”
“Yes. The car would have been bad.”
I smile a little and let my head flop on his shoulder. Being closer to him helps.
He kisses my forehead and hugs me. “Are you hurt or just scared?”
I internally check for pain. “Nothing’s broken.” I shift on my seat, and my hip stings. “Ow. I think I’ll have a nasty bruise from that rock.”
“Let me see your hands.” He lifts them, and there are scratches on the backs from the brambles, the heel of one hand scraped.
“Not too bad.” He mimes kisses over the rough spots.
“I broke the bike.”
“Broke? I doubt it.” He picks up the bike and clears away the branches. “The chain fell off. No big deal.” He fiddles with the gears and the brakes, then turns the pedals, fixing it like he’s lacing a pair of shoes.
“Want me to call Gary?” he says. “He can pick us up.”
He’s too nice. My mother would say, You’re not hurt. Get back on the bike . My father would tease me that I can never be a doctor if I cry over a bike crash.
“I’m okay,” I say. Part of it is bravado, I don’t want to be weak, but also, my wounds aren’t that bad. “How far is it?”
“Not far. Twenty minutes, coasting down to the Promenade. Can you make it?”
“I think so.”
He helps me stand. “I’ll make you a smoothie when we get there.” He wiggles his eyebrows, like it’s sexy.
I laugh. “A smoothie?”
“Best ride recovery drink ever.”
The words “I should go home and work” threaten at the back of my throat. But he’s looking at me the way he does. Like he wants to spend more time with me. His optimism is contagious.
“Okay.”
“Good.” He pecks a kiss on my cheek and hands me my bike.
Chapter Sixteen
It hurts. The bike seat pokes me in places a girl should never be poked, and my bruised thigh throbs like a motherfu—I mean, something not good. Terrence carries both our bikes up the stairs to his apartment. I waddle behind him, aching the whole way.
He stacks our bikes by the rest of the team’s fleet and opens the door for me. “I’ll get you some ice.”
Light from the wall of windows permeates the room. I limp into the apartment with a growling stomach. I could eat two croissants, right now.
The silence in the space is deafening. It screams intimacy, and while part of the reason I’ve come is for, hopefully, more kisses, now that I’m here I’m too nervous
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