Kissing the Shy Guy - Stephanie Street Page 0,27

knowing what to say other than, “I’m sorry.”

Jenna shrugged. She wanted me to think it wasn’t a big deal, but from the hurt in her eyes, I knew it was. “Are you ready to leave now?” I asked.

She nodded.

“Do you have a car here,” I asked once we reached the parking lot.

“I do.” She pointed to our left. “I parked over there. What about you?”

“I have my bike. Do you want to follow me or—,” I hadn’t thought this through.

Jenna’s eyes narrowed. “Or what? Bike? Like a motorcycle?”

“Yeah. Would you want to ride? I have a helmet. I keep one on me in case I have to give my sisters a ride. Not that Mom ever lets them ride with me.” I smiled wryly, hoping she couldn’t see how much I wanted her to ride with me.

I’d saved for a motorcycle since I was ten, scraping together birthday money and my meager allowance until I was old enough to get a real job. Last summer, I’d finally earned enough. Mom had been hysterical with worry, but Dad stepped in, pointing out the single-minded effort I’d put toward buying the thing, as he’d called it. Nothing was going to stop me now.

I held my breath, waiting for her to answer. In my experience, not many girls could resist a motorcycle. Would her parents mind? Should I check? But she was eighteen. Old enough to make up her own mind.

Her smile was so big, she took my breath away. “All right. Let’s do it.”

I shook my head and laughed, knowing I’d been right. She was digging the idea of my motorcycle.

What was it with girls and motorcycles?

“Come on. I’m parked over here.” Taking her hand in mine again, I pulled her to the secluded spot where I’d parked my bike. Once we reached it, I dug in the compartment under the seat for my spare helmet. I turned to hand it to her and stopped dead.

“What are you doing?” I asked, my voice strangled.

Jenna glanced up as she finished unzipping the tight black skirt she’d worn for the concert and began wiggling it down over her hips. “You don’t expect me to ride that thing in a skirt, do you?”

“I-um-I hadn’t thought about it.” True enough. It hadn’t even occurred to me. “But—” Good grief! Was she going to ride in her underwear?

“Don’t worry. I have shorts on underneath.” She stepped out of the circle of the skirt and neatly folded it into a square. “Can we put this under the seat?”

“S-sure.” I cleared my throat. She was wearing shorts, black spandex that barely covered her round butt. Under them, she wore black—my nose wrinkled unconsciously at the word—pantyhose. At least, that’s what my sisters called them. Mom called them nylons. Either way, they were weird and stretchy. I often found the knee-high variety in the strangest places, usually alone, its match nowhere to be seen.

They didn’t look weird running up the length of Jenna’s toned legs, however.

I lifted the seat again, waiting until she’d stowed the skirt inside before closing it again. I held out the helmet. She took it this time and slid it over her head, fumbling for the clips under her chin.

I took a step closer. “Here. Let me.”

She dropped her hands. Tall as I was, I had to bend down and to the side to get a good look at the black clips and push them together until they clicked.

“There. All set.” Standing straight, I looked her over. She wore a white button-down shirt with black shorts and nylons. On her feet, a pair of booties. Right? Wasn’t that what the girls called those low-cut boots? They were black with little tassels on the sides and a heel. They looked…incredible. The helmet should have looked ridiculous. It didn’t have a shield like mine, but she’d be behind me with my back blocking the wind and whatever else might get in her face. She looked…cute…sexy.

I put on my own helmet, ensuring the chin strap was secure before throwing my leg over the seat.

“Ready?” I asked over my shoulder.

Jenna nodded. I held out my arm. She used it for balance as she threw her leg over the back of the motorcycle like I’d just done.

I’d ridden a few times with girls perched behind me, but none of them had inspired such an immediate reaction. I clenched my fists around the handlebars to keep myself from running my palms over her legs settled around my thighs. I turned the key.