I Knew You Were Trouble - Cassie Mae Page 0,39

bit, and I slip down the seat like it’s a water slide, crashing into the wave that is Pete at the bottom.

“There,” he says. “Snug as a bug.”

Oh sweet merciful heavens, I’m going to pass out.

“Troublemaker,” I breathe, finally able to get some air into my darn lungs.

“Already?”

“Mmmhmm.” I push my helmeted forehead into the comfort of his coat, begging my heart rate to calm the heck down. “I just… need a minute.”

I will not admit that it’s not the road I’m afraid of. Or the bike underneath us. Or the bitter wind that will inevitably freeze my face off.

It’s the thought of essentially spooning with him for however long he plans to drive me around.

“Anything I can do to help?” He offers, setting a hand on my knee. His finger starts to trace random patterns over the fabric of my pants.

Circle.

Infinity sign.

Triangle.

“That’s working,” I tell him, my heart slowing to a dull thud rather than a buzzing bee. He moves his finger more deliberately.

The letter C.

A.

N.

I blow out a breath into his coat as he spells the rest of my name. My mom and I used to spell on each other’s backs all the time. I’d throw the hem of my shirt over my head, keeping my face covered with the fabric as she traced all sorts of things. I love you was common. Tickle monster was common also, followed by her tickle fingers attacking my neck—my most sensitive spot.

I always wondered how my laughter sounded in her head. She couldn’t hear it, and so when she got her cochlear implant, I worried I might disappoint whatever version she’d imagined. Was my voice too squeaky? Did my laugh sound too grating?

“Doing okay?” Pete asks. Gosh he’s being so patient with me. I should give him a tip or something.

“I think so.” No… I know so. I’m feeling much better—barely even realize I’m still spooning him.

“I’m gonna start the bike, then.” He gives my leg a tap. “Keep away from the exhaust. It’ll hurt like hell if you get too close.”

Now I’m thinking I want my legs wrapped completely around his waist. Exhaust burn? No thank you!

He lifts the kickstand, and I try to keep out of the way, but I’m not sure if I’m doing it right. He slams on the starter thing, and the bike rumbles to life.

“Whoa!” I shout over the engine. If I thought my insides were bunched up before, it’s nothing compared to now. The power of the bike vibrates through the seat, rumbling my butt like a massage chair. An unexpected giggle flies from my mouth, and I slip my arms through Pete’s and clutch onto his waist.

“The curb outta here is a little rough,” Pete calls over the engine. “I’ll take it as easy as I can.”

I nod against him, my arms tightening their hold. I’m going to ride on a motorcycle. Holy wow. I’m going to be so bad-a-word after this.

A giddy squeal escapes me as the bike eases forward. The road beneath us moves almost as slowly as it would if I was on a regular bike. Pete’s taking it real easy on me, and I’m super grateful for it.

We reach the potholes that cover the parking lot exit, and he weaves through them as much as he can, using his foot to balance us.

“You ready for the road?”

No. “Um… okay.”

“Remember your safe word?”

“I got it.”

He gives my knee a reassuring pat before he revs the engine. The vibrations rock through me again, exciting and scaring me in equal measure.

I almost want to tell him to keep his hands on the “wheel,” but the knee pats are helping way more than I thought they would.

“Here we go!” His voice is excited and terrified, too, and I have no time to analyze what’s scaring him before he pulls us onto the road, and the bike speeds to thirty, thirty-five, forty miles per hour.

“Ohmygosh ohmygosh ohmygosh…” I chatter nonsensically behind him. His shoulders move, but I can’t hear his obvious laughter over the wind and the engine.

The world passes by in a blur, my eyes watering despite how much I’m hiding in Pete’s coat. Christmas street lights blend together in beautiful, watery rainbows. I hope it’s imprinted in my memories so I can replicate it in paint.

Another giggle floats up my throat, and with it pops out a small bundle of nerves that gets crushed on the asphalt below us. The cold bites at my face and my knuckles, but I’m so digging