Curvy Girls Can't Date Bad Boys - Kelsie Stelting Page 0,19
think you're too good for me.” His expression was unreadable.
“What does that mean?”
“You saw the way those girls talked about me. They think I'm beneath someone like you. Do you agree?”
He was looking directly at me, challenging me in a way I’d usually only done to myself. And then a new thought hit: he remembered me from the café.
From behind me, I heard Ryde yell, “Zara, what are you doing out here?”
“I’m going home.”
My eyes stayed on the guy across the narrow street from me, wishing the one behind me would stay in my past. But he walked right up to us and jerked his thumb at the guy leaning against the motorcycle like he saw movie stars every day. “Who’s this?”
I opened my mouth to answer, but remembered I didn’t even know his name.
“I’m her ride,” the guy said, his voice firm, sure of himself.
Ryde took in the motorcycle, then looked back at me. “You have to be kidding. Your father would never approve of that. Come back inside.”
The way Ryde said the words, like he was in charge of me, irked me worse than anything he’d said all evening.
“Give me the helmet,” I said to the guy as I stepped onto the asphalt.
A pleased smile crossed his face, and he reached into the back of his bike to pass me a black helmet.
“Zara,” Ryde said from the sidewalk in disbelief. “Come on. This is crazy.”
I reached the motorcycle and took the helmet. Knowing it wouldn't go over my up-do, I pulled the pins from my hair and shook out the curls. The guy watched me, his eyes burning every exposed inch of my skin, until I had the helmet clipped under my chin.
“You’re really going with him?” Ryde asked.
“No, I’m getting away from you.”
I had to pull my dress up so I could part my legs enough to get onto the motorcycle. But once I was on, I bunched it up around me so it would stay away from the ground.
The guy said, “Put your arms around my waist.”
For a moment, I hesitated. What was I doing?
I should have just gotten off the bike, make up some excuse to Ryde, and went along with my life.
“Zara,” Ryde said.
Motorcycle guy must have heard my thoughts, because he turned his head back to me and said low, “Take a risk for once in your life.”
Even this stranger new the type of life I led. It was obvious from the car I drove to the people I spent my time with. I knew, if I was going to take a risk like he was asking, now was the time. I wrapped my arms around his firm middle and held on.
His muscles rippled under my arms as he lifted his leg to kicked the bike to life. I jerked back as he accelerated and took off down the street, then held on even tighter. My stomach bottomed out as he sped into a turn, and the wind blew my hair behind me.
This was like nothing I'd ever done before, but I’d never felt more alive.
He didn't ask where I needed to go, just drove. The air became charged somehow, and I recognized the hint of saltwater hitting my nose. Were we driving to the beach?
The big expanse of ocean opening up in front of us confirmed my guess. It looked black this late at night, only punctuated by the white caps of waves. The view became even better as he parked in Seaton Pier’s parking lot. He turned off the bike, and I got off. As he slowly lifted his helmet from his head and shook out wavy brown hair, a rush of nerves came over me. What was I doing? I didn’t know him at all.
“Come on,” he said, turning toward the boardwalk.
Whatever spell he held over me grew stronger as I unclasped my heels and followed him across the boards and onto the sand. About halfway down the beach, he sat down and patted a spot next to him. “Unless you're afraid to get your dress a little dirty,” he said, one eyebrow raised.
I was, but I wasn't going to tell him that. I sat beside him and listened to the waves crash over the shore. The sound was cathartic and therapeutic at the same time. How he knew this was exactly what I needed, I had no idea, but I was thankful he was the one I found outside the party.
“What’s your name?” I asked. “I'm assuming you don't