head and tend to his own busy schedule.
She cradled the phone to her ear loving the sound of Orlando’s husky voice early in the morning. Orlando was nothing like Mark and that made her decision to agree to go bike riding before the birds were singing, easy. “I’ll see you in thirty minutes.”
The helmet was too tight and made her scalp sweat. She couldn’t believe Orlando talked her into bike riding. He’d adjusted the gear on the ten speed mountain bike letting her mount it for comfort. He then adjusted the speed on his bike, which was huge. She had never seen a bike as tall as the one he was riding. Her leg barely made it over the bar on the bike she was riding. She would need a step-stool to mount his bike.
Yet, here she was following behind him enjoying the view he presented to her, a view of his well-toned body in dark blue bike riding gear with matching helmet. She suspected Orlando took bike riding seriously by the results of his masculine legs. The calves of his legs were muscular with sparse black coarse hair covering them. The stride at which he rode showed he was not a novice biker but experienced and she was definitely holding him back.
They took a minute to snack on fruit and granola bars before hitting the bike path however, she was tired again. They had been steadily riding and already her sports bra dripped with sweat rolling down her back. She figured she smelled like dirty socks and lilac body wash and would have to ride home with the offensive smell clogging her nostrils; there were no showers on bike paths.
Oh, what fresh hell is this? Regan thought pumping her tired legs. Her thighs burned, her butt hurt from the hard plastic seat that barely fit her bottom, and she was out of breath from tackling the steep hill. This act of physical activity was harder than sitting on a stationary bike peddling to hip-hop music in a controlled environment. The only benefit she found doing this was the beauty of the bike path and the fresh air.
Plenty of trees provided shade from the sun and the complex pattern the sun created filtering through the trees offered a scenic picture. They’d spotted deer, rabbits, and other animals hunting for food before chased away by walkers, bikers, and runners.
She was not into extreme exercise. Her workouts consisted of light calisthenics and spinning and never all on the same day.
Orlando slowed down yelling back at her. “Yo, pick up the pace—you’re dragging ass. Don’t tell me you’re tired already? We have another mile to go before the next rest stop.”
Regan didn’t have the breath to reply. She’d run out of gas by the time she hit the top of the hill. Her chest was burning and her legs didn’t have the strength to peddle five feet much less another mile.
Weak, hot and hungry, she took her eyes off the path and fell into a ditch filled with dead leaves and God knows what else. “Whoa! Man down!” She yelled landing on her stomach with the bike on top of her.
“Shit,” Orland huffed, turning around to check on her. Hopping off his bike, he lifted the ten-speed off her. “Regan, are you okay?”
She sat up spitting dirt from her mouth. Unstrapping the helmet, she tossed it on the ground nursing her bruised ego. “Yeah, I’m okay. Good thing I had on knee and elbow pads.”
“Which you said you didn’t need,” he replied sarcastically. He examined her bike. “You got a busted tire. It won’t take long for me to fix it.”
Regan rest against a tree, the soft grass felt like a mattress against her sore butt. She closed her eyes, saying, “Whatever. Take your time.”
*****
Orlando repaired the inner tube placing the wheel on her bike before filling the tire with air. Regan had been quite during the repair and he glanced at her a few times making sure had not fallen asleep under the tree. She was busy going through her phone. He shook his head. She
She cradled the phone to her ear loving the sound of Orlando’s husky voice early in the morning. Orlando was nothing like Mark and that made her decision to agree to go bike riding before the birds were singing, easy. “I’ll see you in thirty minutes.”
The helmet was too tight and made her scalp sweat. She couldn’t believe Orlando talked her into bike riding. He’d adjusted the gear on the ten speed mountain bike letting her mount it for comfort. He then adjusted the speed on his bike, which was huge. She had never seen a bike as tall as the one he was riding. Her leg barely made it over the bar on the bike she was riding. She would need a step-stool to mount his bike.
Yet, here she was following behind him enjoying the view he presented to her, a view of his well-toned body in dark blue bike riding gear with matching helmet. She suspected Orlando took bike riding seriously by the results of his masculine legs. The calves of his legs were muscular with sparse black coarse hair covering them. The stride at which he rode showed he was not a novice biker but experienced and she was definitely holding him back.
They took a minute to snack on fruit and granola bars before hitting the bike path however, she was tired again. They had been steadily riding and already her sports bra dripped with sweat rolling down her back. She figured she smelled like dirty socks and lilac body wash and would have to ride home with the offensive smell clogging her nostrils; there were no showers on bike paths.
Oh, what fresh hell is this? Regan thought pumping her tired legs. Her thighs burned, her butt hurt from the hard plastic seat that barely fit her bottom, and she was out of breath from tackling the steep hill. This act of physical activity was harder than sitting on a stationary bike peddling to hip-hop music in a controlled environment. The only benefit she found doing this was the beauty of the bike path and the fresh air.
Plenty of trees provided shade from the sun and the complex pattern the sun created filtering through the trees offered a scenic picture. They’d spotted deer, rabbits, and other animals hunting for food before chased away by walkers, bikers, and runners.
She was not into extreme exercise. Her workouts consisted of light calisthenics and spinning and never all on the same day.
Orlando slowed down yelling back at her. “Yo, pick up the pace—you’re dragging ass. Don’t tell me you’re tired already? We have another mile to go before the next rest stop.”
Regan didn’t have the breath to reply. She’d run out of gas by the time she hit the top of the hill. Her chest was burning and her legs didn’t have the strength to peddle five feet much less another mile.
Weak, hot and hungry, she took her eyes off the path and fell into a ditch filled with dead leaves and God knows what else. “Whoa! Man down!” She yelled landing on her stomach with the bike on top of her.
“Shit,” Orland huffed, turning around to check on her. Hopping off his bike, he lifted the ten-speed off her. “Regan, are you okay?”
She sat up spitting dirt from her mouth. Unstrapping the helmet, she tossed it on the ground nursing her bruised ego. “Yeah, I’m okay. Good thing I had on knee and elbow pads.”
“Which you said you didn’t need,” he replied sarcastically. He examined her bike. “You got a busted tire. It won’t take long for me to fix it.”
Regan rest against a tree, the soft grass felt like a mattress against her sore butt. She closed her eyes, saying, “Whatever. Take your time.”
*****
Orlando repaired the inner tube placing the wheel on her bike before filling the tire with air. Regan had been quite during the repair and he glanced at her a few times making sure had not fallen asleep under the tree. She was busy going through her phone. He shook his head. She
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