Page 25 of Red Card


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“Of course,” he murmurs, the smallest hint of a smirk tugging at his lips as he pulls the hood up on his head and gets on the bike. “Use me for balance and swing your leg over.”

I follow his instructions, placing my palm along his shoulder as I hoist my leg over and straddle the seat.

He looks back at me, twisting then grabbing my hands and sliding them around his waist until they’re clasped in the front. I can feel the hard muscles of his abs beneath my hands, and I swallow roughly. There must be at least a dozen of them.

“Hold on just like this, and don’t let go. Lean with me when we turn.” He squeezes his fingers around mine to drive his point home.

I nod, suddenly feeling nervous. He flips the visor down before turning back and starting the bike.

The engine roars to life, vibrating beneath us as he grips the handlebars.

“Tighter,” he says loudly over the sound of the engine, bringing his hand to the top of mine and squeezing again.

I tighten my hold around his waist, my fingers fisting into the front of his hoodie and with one last nod, he pulls off the curb onto the street. My thighs squeeze around his waist as he accelerates and my heart thunders. At first, I’m too focused on holding on to Cillian, making sure that I don’t end up on the pavement, to take in my surroundings. But when I feel his hand on top of mine, there’s something oddly reassuring about it and makes it easier to relax.

I watch campus fly by, the lights glowing little specks as we speed down the highway, and even though I’m wearing a thick sweatshirt, jacket, and beanie, the wind seeps through the fabric, chilling me to the bone.

Still, it’s the most exhilarating thing I’ve ever experienced. It feels like freedom, like I’m flying. Part of me wants to throw my arms out and close my eyes, pretending that I am even if it’s just for the briefest moment.

But I stay firmly wrapped around Cillian. Before I know it, we’re on the outskirts of town, where everything’s a bit less crowded and quieter, pulling into the parking lot of a small bar. Cillian parks in the front, cutting off the engine and sliding off the bike effortlessly.

“Wow,” I breathe once he pulls the helmet off. “That was actually the most terrifying andincrediblemoment of my life.”

I’m not prepared for the deep chuckle that fills the air between us, and it makes my stomach flip. It’s… nice.

He sets the helmet on the seat, and then offers me his hand, helping me off the bike. “First few times are always like that.”

There’s a slight curve of his full lips and it almost feels like he’s speaking about something else, but I’m not entirely sure so I just nod. We head to the front of the bar, and as we walk through the entrance I feel Cillian’s hand pressing against the small of my back, guiding me through the door.

It’s the faintest, barest brush of this palm, but for some reason it makes my heart race and my pulse thrum.

Get it together, Rory.

My God.

I’m being ridiculous. Absolutely ridiculous.

Cillian slides into the booth across from me once we’ve grabbed our drinks and he shrugs out of his jacket, leaving him in his gray hoodie.

“So…” I say between sips of my Cherry Coke, “what’s the plan? How should we do this? Where do you think we should start?”

“Never given anyone flirting lessons before so I don’t exactly have one, St. James,” he says as he watches me toy with the black straw in my drink, moving it around the cup. “I only caught some of what happened the other night, so I guess we start by me seeing you in action. Fully.”

This is what I was dreading. Obviously, I knew that he was going to witness me embarrassing myself yet again—it’s inevitable when he’s the one teaching me how tofixit—but it doesn’t make it any easier to prepare for.

“It’s going to be painful. Extremely painful. I’m warning you.Last time was only the tip of the iceberg, I fear,” I say after another quick sip. “Now that I’m thinking about it, we should probably just skip this stage altogether and get right to the good stuff. You know, theteachingpart.”

His brow lifts as his pupil’s flare. “You want my help?”

“Obviously, yes, I want your help, Romeo.” I roll my eyes.

“Then I need to see you in action. I can’t fix something when I don’t even know what’s supposedly broken. All I know is what you’ve told me, and that might not even be the issue.”

Okay… well when he says it that way, that’s fair.

I huff out a breath and nod, crossing my arms over my chest and leaning back in the seat. “Okay, but don’t laugh at me. What do I need to do?”

“Go sit at the bar, order a drink.” He gestures toward the long bar that sits in the middle of the room. It’s fairly dead for a weekend, surprisingly, and there are a few empty seats. “Smile, be approachable. Let the lads come to you. And I’m going to sit here and observe.” Cillian shrugs, as if any of those things are so simple and easy.