“Do you think Chance would let Oliver ride his bike?” I ask Aubrey, knowing it is a long shot but hoping for the best.
“I guess so if he asked, but I don’t think he’s ridden since the accident.”
Chance places his empty plate beside Aubrey. I run it past him, and after much reluctance involving a lot of stubble scratching, he agrees. Though he warns me it’s his baby, and it needs to come back in one piece.
I quickly head back home, shower then pull on a pair of black jeans and a loose blouse. My hair refuses to cooperate, and knowing I will be near the beach fighting the wind anyway, I opt to leave it out. It’s beyond a lost cause these days anyway.
I’ve been gone for thirty minutes, praying Oliver hasn’t snuck past and left for a morning run without me. I knock on Oliver’s door, opening it before he even has a chance to ask who it is.
He’s sprawled out on his bed with his back toward me, shirtless as usual, laptop beside him with his email application open. Purposely ignoring me, not fazed one bit that I’m standing in his room while he continues to read what’s on his screen.
There is no doubt Oliver is beyond sexy. Even media outlets had named him Sexiest Aussie Sports Star. The night I searched him online, I stumbled across fan sites dedicated to him. They were run by groups of girls, blog posts written on how perfect his body is.
I am not immune.
Every inch of me desperately wants to climb into bed with him, run my nails along his perfectly tanned back, nuzzle my face into his neck and inhale his skin.
Breathe.
Focus.
“Get out of bed, I have a surprise for you.”
“All surprises should involve bed,” he deadpans.
“C’mon, get dressed. We’re heading out.”
He lets out a groan, falling onto his back as he rubs his face. “Gabriella…”
“Yes, Olly?”
I can almost see the internal battle to tell me to get the hell out of here versus the small smile playing on his beautiful lips. His eyes spring wide open. Tilting his head upward, he finally gazes at me. “Do I get clues?”
“You’ll see,” I answer with a smile.
I latch onto his arm, dragging him out of bed. With clothes piled in his hand, he disappears to the bathroom. I sit on the edge of the bed waiting until my eyes wander to his laptop which he left open. There’s an email on the screen, and although it isn’t my intention to snoop, my eyes wander across the title.
It appears to be an email from a medical specialist confirming his appointment in Colorado for next Monday.
Colorado… as in my home.
There’s a noise near the door, prompting me to pull away.
“Okay, Gabs, show me what you got?”
“No.”
Outside, at the front of the house, he backs away. He’s ready to go inside before I pull on his arm, dragging him back to the motorcycle.
“Gabriella, you don’t understand… I can’t just… I can’t just ride.”
“I don’t usually quote my father, trust me, I hardly ever agree with him. But one thing he said stuck. If you fail, you have to get up and try again. Allowing your failures to define you is one step away from rock bottom.” I watch him, the turmoil etched on his face as his brows draw in together coupled with a pained expression.
He’s torn between his desire to ride and the fear of getting hurt.
“You need to do this, Olly. Ignite your passion again because otherwise, you’re going to waste your life away not doing the things you love.”
“Pot calling kettle black much?”
“C’mon,” I beg, handing over the helmet. “For me?”
“It’s not that easy,” he mumbles, touching the bars on the motorbike, admiring the steel metal finish. “The accident was…” he trails off.
I place my hand against his cheek, caressing it gently to calm him down. He presses into me, closing his eyes briefly.
“I guess if we can just go slow.”
“We?” I ask, confused. “As in… I’m getting on with you?”
He nods with a smile. “If you want me on this bike, you’re coming with me.”
“Um… okay.” I’ve never ridden a bike, but I know how much this means to him, so for now, I will have to suck it up, even if speed terrifies me. “Now, in full disclosure, I’m scared, but for you, I am willing to give in to my fears.”
Motorcycle riding is a combination of exhilaration, fear, relaxation, and pleasure that changes you forever. It’s physical and emotional pleasure with a layer of anxiety and adrenaline—all the things I hadn’t expected to experience as I clutched onto Oliver’s back.
We race through the hills, weaving our way through the windy roads. The wind blows against my arms, a euphoric feeling to experience such freedom.
Our destination is Del Cerro Park. It’s a popular spot with views of the Pacific Ocean coastline and Catalina Island.
When we reach the lookout spot, Oliver parks the bike and turns the engine off. Pulling off his helmet, there’s a satisfied smile on his face. A sense of accomplishment.
“How did it feel?”
“Intense, orgasmic, like catching up with a long-lost friend,” he purrs, unable to wipe the grin off his face. “Thank you for making me do this.”
“You’re welcome.”
We begin to walk at the southernmost end of Crenshaw Boulevard, south of Pacific Coast highway. The trail begins as a wide unpaved path with expansive ocean vistas right from the start. Deep canyon walls fall off to the right, dropping to the coastline in an endless sea of blue.
Oliver intertwines his fingers with mine, holding my hand as we walk along the trail, passing the tourists who have stopped to admire the scenery and take photographs.
The sweeping vistas are breathtaking, and on this perfect summer’s day, the breeze is enough to take away the unwanted heat.
Something feels so right about this moment, and not one part of me feels guilty.
Oliver feels right.
Yet, it’s all still new, so fresh, and not wanting to rock the so-called boat, I choose not to pull away and enjoy our walk together, hand in hand.
“I’ve never been to Australia,” I tell him, stopping at the fence to admire the view. “Is it like this?”
“I figured, the night I met you,” he chastises, reminding me of my humiliating effort to question his fake accent. “This view, I guess it does feel like back home. Our beaches are amazing, but everything else is so different.”
“How so?”
“We don’t tip.”
I pull back in shock. “Like never?”
He shakes his head. “Never.”
“I can’t imagine not tipping. What else?”
“Well, we drive on the other side of the road.”
“Really? But you drive here just fine.”
“I’ve practiced, but don’t for once think my heart doesn’t race when I accidentally turn onto the wrong side of the road.”