The ride back was different, charged with everything left unfinished. I pressed closer than necessary, my hands splayed across his abs, feeling the way his muscles tensed under them.
When we reached my door, he gripped my waist and said, “Tomorrow,” with the kind of certainty that left no room for argument. “No club business. Just you and me.”
It wasn’t a question, but I nodded anyway. He kissed me one last time, hard and deep, and then he was gone. And I was left wondering how one interrupted date could feel so much like the beginning of everything.
Current status: Trying to convince myself that one kiss (okay, several kisses) shouldn’t be able to rewrite everything I thought I knew about chemistry. Failing miserably. Also definitely not googling “how to tell if you’re falling for a biker after one date.”
P.S. To whoever invented leather jackets: thank you for your service to humanity.
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FIRST DATE PART 2: LATE NIGHT CONFESSIONS (OR: WHAT HAPPENS AFTER CLUB BUSINESS)
Posted by Anonymous at 4:10 a.m.
March 28
There are three things you should know about 3 a.m. motorcycle sounds:
1. They wake you up instantly
2. They make your heart race for reasons that have nothing to do with being startled
3. They definitely don’t make you sprint to your balcony in your sleep shorts and oversized coding conference T-shirt
Except that’s exactly what I did.
I’d spent the hours after Jake left alternating between reliving every moment of our time together and trying not to check my phone like a lovesick teenager. My texts with Megan didn’t help:
Me
He had to leave for club business.
Me
Right after he kissed me.
Megan
Describe the kiss.
Me
osndgweriuvmslf
Me
I think I might be dying.
Megan
From sexual frustration or feelings?
Me
Yes.
