I take him in again, his green eyes bouncing between my brown ones, but neither of us speaks. A brief minute later, I snatch the joint from his grasp and bring it to my lips. I hold it between my fingers like a cigarette, then inhale deeply, dropping it when the cherry burns my skin.
Baby lets out a small laugh and picks it up from the ground. A cough erupts from me, and I pat my chest to help open my airways. Not that it works, but it's something people do.
"I'm Ivy," I say when I finally get my breathing under control.
Baby holds the joint like a pro, not once letting the lit end of it touch him. “You don’t smoke, do you?”
The coughing finally subsides as I shake my head.
“I didn’t think so.”
I don't offer him a response, not that I have one for him. This is already crossing the line, so I do what I should have done when he first presented himself. I prepare to leave, satisfied with that one hit. I couldn’t care less what he thinks, and I just needed to ease my tension. One millisecond of an escape, a brief lapse in judgment that I’ll cherish because I know Jerry would hate it.
Baby stops me with a hand on my wrist, and I stare down at his touch.
"So you're just going to smoke my shit and roll."
I exhale and speak over my shoulder. “It’s been a long day. I’m frustrated and angry, and… I don’t even know. But, what I do know is I shouldn’t be in a school parking lot smoking Mary Jane with someone who barely looks old enough to drive. So, yes.”
He smirks. “Mary Jane,” he mocks. “You know no one says that anymore, right?”
I wait for him to question my age, but he doesn't. All he does is peer at me with a lot more than hilarity in his eyes. His gaze turns dark, and I swallow at the obvious signs of attraction etching itself in the lines of his face.
Baby pushes off the bike, standing to his full height, towering over my five-foot frame. I hadn't realized how tall he was before, but it's unmistakable now. His size is looming and taunting—it's bad. Very bad.
"Get on," he demands with a tip of his head toward the bike. "Let's get out of here."
I frown, unable to hold in my shock. "No. I don't know you."
He stands tall, his confidence never wavering. "Don’t tell me you’re afraid of strangers?” He chuckles. “If I were going to hurt you, I would have done it by now."
Glancing behind me, I stare through the glass doors, knowing I need to get back inside. I've played around long enough, and the last thing I need is for my absence to get back to Jerry somehow. He is the reason I have this job, which means the people here are folks he's built connections with.
"I can't go anywhere with you," I deadpan.
“But you want to, don’t you?” He releases his hold on me and reaches behind him for his helmet, holding it out to me. "Come on. Judging by that phone call earlier, you need some fun. And don't worry, I won't try to stick my dick in you unless you ask me to."
I gulp so hard the lump I've formed lodges itself in my throat. Throwing my gaze to the building again, I contemplate my thoughts. It's pointless. The only choice is to walk away and avoid knocking on temptation's door.
He isn't wrong, though. I deserve some fun. I deserve to let go and forget about the dysfunction of my life. I should live, even if it's only for a night—even if it's forbidden. Because whether I take this boy up on his offer or not, Jerry's already pissed, and he'll be waiting for me when I walk through the door.
"What do you say? No funny business, just let me help you let go," he shrugs.
I don't move right away, but then I slowly take the help. Baby grins, and I can see the cockiness rolling over his features.
"Where are we going?" I ask and bring the helmet to my chest.
"To loosen you up, get that stick out your ass," he teases.
I can't help the smile that wants to creep onto my face. So I move the conversation along. “Baby can’t be your real name.”
He smirks. “It isn’t, but it’s what everyone calls me.”
“Tell me your real name, and maybe I’ll put this on and slip behind you on that bike.”
“Ashton. Ashton Ciccone.”
Chapter 2
Ivy
Crazy is the word I would use for this situation.
I'm a thirty-five-year-old married woman who should not have her arms wrapped around the waist of some young college student. This is dangerous, a fire I'm not sure I'll be able to put out.
Yet, I go with it anyway.
It doesn't matter that I shouldn't. Something in me wouldn't allow me to walk away. The part of your brain that processes right from wrong never kicked in, and the next thing I knew, the helmet was on, and I was straddling the bike.
For the first time in ages, I'm doing something reckless, something for me. What that thing is exactly, I'm not sure, but I guess I'll find out soon enough.
We whip through the dark city, the wind biting at my thighs as it's the only part of me that's uncovered. It's hot out tonight, the heat nearly suffocating. That's not all, though. Being like this, out for a ride with a stranger—an incredibly attractive stranger—adds to the warmth flooding me. My body is full of adrenaline, and who knows how this will all feel when the high fades.
I take him in for a moment, as much of him as I can in this position. He's slim but muscular at the same time. I know because I feel every ridge in his abdomen. His scent is strong, a mixture of the marijuana we smoked earlier and whatever cologne he's wearing.
The motorcycle screams as he twists the throttle, sending us faster down the road. I tighten my grip on him when he takes a sharp turn onto the highway. There isn't much traffic, thanks to the many Christmas parties happening all over the city.
The holiday season is usually my favorite time of year, but disdain filled me the entire drive to campus today. All the twinkling lights, the cheer—it's too much. Life isn't grand and full of happiness. It sucks, and it drains you dry.
You do the things you’re supposed to. You follow the rules, marry the guy that makes sense on paper, and conform to whatever societal standard you’ve accepted. No one tells you that it’s all a lie. That rules are meant to be broken. And the guy that everyone loves is really a monster.
You lose yourself, and then you end up like me. Alone even though I’m not. Afraid despite the risks I’ve taken. Weak when I’m the strongest person I know.
So yes, this is wrong, and I’m probably going to pay for it. But for one night, I’m going to allow myself some fun. If Jerry can be off doing whatever the hell he’s doing that keeps him from a party I only attended because of him, then I can do this...whatever this is.
We pull up to a building, the sound of our tires over the graveled parking lot being drowned out by all the voices. The bike shifts a little as he releases the kickstand and kills the engine. Ashton holds out a hand to help me off before he gets off himself.
I’m staring at the crowd, taking in the surroundings and not paying attention when he steps up to me. I flinch from the unexpected closeness and peer up at him through the helmet. He removes it from my head then nestles it onto his bike.