The second he rolls to a stop at the fork in the road between the biking trail and the hill sloping down to the edge of the beach, I jump off the back of the motorcycle. “No, and with good reason. I really don’t feel like crashing and breaking my neck, or getting arrested, or all three.”
This doesn’t deter Jase. He remains seated on the bike, surveying the beach that has already been vacated. Just like on the Fourth of July years back, no one is allowed on the sand after dark, leaving spectators of the firework display to enjoy it from either the pier or the parking lots stationed along the length of the beach. Whatisnew: the fireworks aren’t just coming from the sandbar or the dock this time around. I seriously question the legality, but that doesn’t stop the several boats out on the water from setting off their own firework displays, lighting up the entire night sky in a constant blaze of red explosions and showers of spiraling, sparkling lights.
It really is beautiful, and perhaps even a bit hypnotizing, because I find my defenses slipping as Jase looks back at me, his expression almost boyish. Hopeful.
“Come on, Birdie. I’ve been practically living at the beach for the last three years. I know what I’m doing.” He extends his hand to me, an honest smile spreading across his face. “Don’t keep living your life on the sidelines. Carpe the shit out of this diem with me.”
Damn him.
He always knew what to say to convince me to do something stupid, and it appears that hasn’t changed.
Because against all better judgment, I climb back onto the motorcycle.
After a quick rundown,Jase guides us down the hill and onto the initial stretch of the beach, and though my heart is thundering, I’m not necessarily panicked. At least, not for the first thirty seconds or so. I want to call bullshit on Jase’s expertise however once we start gaining a little bit of speed. Sand kicks up all around us, and the back of the bike fishtails like crazy, making my stomach want to jump up into my throat.
I probably look like a terrified koala, instinctively squeezing my thighs around Jase as tight as I can while my arms lock him in a death grip.
His chest rumbles under my hold, and I can feel him laughing more than hear it. “Relax, Birdie. Just give it a minute.”
I try to, but all I see is more uneven terrain as we trudge through either loose or soft sand.
He’s definitely offering me a thrill. Just not the kind I had hoped for.
Call me Debbie Downer, but witnessing my less-than-stellar life flash before my eyes wasn’t what I signed up for. Andwatching the motorcycle increase its speed certainly doesn’t help. I expect the front tire to get stuck at any second, sending Jase and me hurtling through the air to eat a mouthful of sand as our last meal.
I pinch my eyes shut, hoping to block out the visual. I’m not sure how long I stay like that, but it’s enough to catch me off guard when Jase’s hand pats my leg.
His signal.
Hesitantly, I peel an eye open to find the terrain much smoother. I have no idea how fast Jase is going, but between the vacant beach and hard-packed sand on this stretch, it doesn’t even feel like the tires are touching the ground. We sail over the empty beach, and I dare to relax my grip around Jase. Another thirty seconds pass, and I force myself to release the hold on him altogether.
Raising my arms out at my sides, I let the wind catch me from underneath, only adding to the thrill. It truly does feel like I’m flying, watching the beach whiz past us.
I wouldn’t imagine being on the beach to be any different than riding on the street, but it’s a whole new experience altogether. The wind still whips my hair about as it had on the road, but combined with the smell of the ocean, the explosion of lights above us, and the adrenaline of soaring impossibly fast over somewhere I’ve only ever been able to walk, it brings a welcomed wave of euphoria. There’s something forbidden and liberating in the act, especially when we’re the only people out here.
Jase pats me again to signal my next position, and I don’t hesitate this time, letting myself recline until I’m nearly lying back completely.
And I’m weightless, watching the blaze of fireworks above me.
Even with the tides being lower, there’s enough of a breeze that tiny flecks of ocean water still pepper my skin. I look to my left, watching the black waves crash in the light of the fireworks, the feeling of only the motorcycle and Jase anchoring me at the moment.
Because without them, I would truly believe I’m airborne, hovering just over the sand on invisible wings.
The music in the distance grows louder and louder, and the world around me abruptly goes dark. Startled, I sit back up to see the faint outline of the wooden beams flying past us as Jase drives us under the pier. When we come out the other side, cheers come from overhead, and he pats my leg again, signaling for me to hold onto him.
I do, and within seconds, the motorcycle begins fishtailing as we reach the looser sand near the end of the beach. It’s not nearly as rough as it was on the other side, but there’s something even more concerning ahead of us.
There’s a blip, followed by swirling red and blue lights.
The police.
Thankfully, it’s from the parking lot, and that’s not where Jase is heading. I grip onto him for dear life and lean forward as he steers us up a miniature grassy hill. I don’t know how he’s seeing through the collection of trees we suddenly cut through, but he has us back on the road in no time. I can see out of my periphery that the red and blue lights are moving through the parking lot, though they disappear from my line of vision aswedisappear down a side street.
I can’t help it. There may as well be fireworks exploding inside my chest with the sensation building there. I’m well aware of the adrenaline rush that comes from a panic attack, the absolute, soul-crushing dread that washes over you and consumes your entire body. This isn’t it.
This is a high. Electric. Lighting me from the inside out. I throw my head back and wordlessly shout, giving voice to the sensation. All the while, I have the biggest, stupidest smile plastered on my face. And it doesn’t go away, even after Jase eventually pulls up alongside a curb to the main drag. Only once he climbs off the motorcycle can I see I’m not the only one grinning like an idiot. He’s also peppered lightly with wet sand. It’s not too terrible, but we both laugh as we brush ourselves off.
I pull my hair out of its ponytail and comb my fingers through it to wipe away any last remnants, making Jase chuckle. He reaches up and drags his thumb along my cheek, and I can feel the gritty residue of sand scrape lightly across my skin as he brushes it away.
