I rub my temples, extremely frustrated with this situation.
“Look, go out. Have fun. Fuck his brains out, but be prepared to only hear from him when he wants—”
I raise my hand up to cut her off. I can’t hear any more of this. She’s giving me a headache.
But she continues, “Lauren, it’s not a bad thing to just hook up. Especially after all the boring let’s make vows to one another sex you’ve had. Trust me, it will be liberating! And how long has it been since you’ve gotten any? Have you ever even had a walk of shame before?” she asks as if I’m seriously going to answer her.
“Not having this discussion with you right now,” I say, heading to open the door when she stops me.
“Look, every guy isn’t going to be ‘the one.’ Some guys are just meant to be good screws. That is why God put them on the planet! You’re a senior and haven’t even had the freshman experience,” she says with a way-too-serious face. “And this Cal guy is, like, the perfect candidate.”
I don’t even know where to start in on how wrong this conversation is. “How do you know he’s even good in bed?” I ask her sarcastically.
“Did you see how big his hands and feet are?” she says as if stating the obvious.
“Okay, we’re going to go out there and, Hillary, don’t stare at his feet anymore, please!” I say before opening the door.
I walk back into the living room to see Cal sitting on the couch on his phone.
“We’ll have to take care of this later,” he says sternly into it and hangs up.
“Girlfriend?” I say jokingly.
He looks at me, a smile playing on his face. “Jealous?”
“You have a strange sense of humor,” I tell him.
He winks at me before opening the door and allowing me to walk out ahead of him.
“You two have fun,” Hillary sings as we leave.
“Have a good one,” Cal says, giving Hillary a little smile that I’m sure just made her day.
“So where are we headed today?” I ask him as we walk outside.
“You’ll see when we get there,” he replies, leading me to a beautiful black motorcycle.
I stop to admire the sexy metal on wheels. It almost distracts me from the fact he hasn’t told me where we’re going. “This is yours?” I don’t know that much about bikes, but I do know that anything that reads Lamborghini on it doesn’t come cheap.
“Lauren Brooks, meet Mrs. Scott.” He smiles proudly, patting her affectionately. Guys and their toys…
“Well. Mr. Scott, I tend to feel a tad bit more comfortable when I know where I’m going with a stranger. Even one as tall and handsome as you,” I tell him honestly.
He turns around and looks over at me, amused. “You think I’m trouble, don’t you, Lauren?”
He steps closer to me, leaving only inches between us. The same rush of heat I felt last time returns and runs through my body, and I have to swallow my nerves. I try to think of a way to say it without offending him. But yes, I do think he’s trouble. I’m just not sure exactly what kind of trouble yet.
“Are you?” I smile at him playfully even though I’m nervous as hell.
He cocks his head slightly to the right and pauses as if he’s thinking about his answer. “Only as much as you want me to be.” A wicked grin rests on his face, and for some unexplained reason, it excites me. Then his smile softens. “But I guarantee you’re safe with me.”
“So I can assume you’re not a serial killer, ax murderer, or crazy psycho?” I laugh, only a tiny bit apprehensive.
“Only if I can assume you aren’t,” he retorts, getting on the bike.
I scratch my head. I guess it’s now or never. I’m already downstairs with him, and he is on a bike, not driving a big scary van… and he’s incredibly attractive.
“You know how to get on?” he asks, noticing I’m just staring at him on the bike.
“Yeah… well, I think so. I’ve never ridden a bike, well, motorcycle before,” I tell him skeptically.
“Well, I’ll be glad to help you with your first time,” he says as I get on.
I can’t help but feel excited, and we haven’t even pulled off yet. “So what now?” I ask as if I’m getting a lesson.
“Don’t stick out your feet and hold on tight.”
He hands me a helmet, and I look at the ugly, bulky object. I imagine myself looking like the human fly with it on. Screw it, you only live once. I shake my head, refusing it. He smiles with an arched brow as if he’s surprised by my response but puts on his sunglasses and takes the helmet back.
“Hold on to what?” I don’t see any railing or handles.
“To me,” he answers.
I see his smile widen in the mirror. Duh, Lauren! I laugh at myself, and I hesitantly put my hands on both sides of his waist and try to brace my legs on both sides of the bike.
“Ready?” he asks.
“Yeah,” I reply.
I hear the bike start, and my heart pounds. He pulls out of the parking lot with ease, and our speed is pretty slow. This isn’t too bad.
“This isn’t that bad. I was a little scared,” I admit.
“Just wait.”
A few moments later, he turns onto the freeway and we speed off. I feel as if I’m on a roller coaster. The space that was between us is now gone. I’ve involuntarily scooted as close to him as I can, my arms as tight as they can go around his waist. After a few minutes of being scared to pieces, I feel like I’m flying.
“This is great!” I yell, laughing.
He nods. “It’s the closest thing to flying while you’re on the ground!”
I look at the sunset. It’s absolutely beautiful. I can’t believe I haven’t done this before. I’m on a bike, going at least seventy miles per hour with a man I don’t know much about. What I do know is that I haven’t been this at ease with anyone in a very long time.
“I can’t believe you got me on the back of a motorcycle and bungee jumping in the same day,” I say with a laugh, dipping a fry into some ketchup.
He just smiles and bites into his hamburger.
I try to look at him without staring. I expected a totally different type of man. I mean, the expensive suit, the VIP section of the club, seemingly manicured hands and styled hair—it didn’t exactly scream motorcycle riding and bungee jumping.
“You’re different than I expected,” I confess.
He looks at me with an arched brow and a smile playing on his lips. “You mean between me back at the club and now?”
“Yes.” I smile.
“Is that a bad thing?” he asks, those incredible eyes flirting with me.
“No! It’s just—you surprised me. I mean, when I first saw you at the club, I didn’t expect you to be the outdoorsy, leather-jacket-and-jeans-wearing type, I guess.”
He doesn’t say anything but flashes that million-dollar smile of his.
“So what other amazing things do you do?” I ask and run my hand through my tangled hair, free from its earlier braid. I wonder if he can tell how nervous I am.
He opens his mouth to say something then stops.