way with words. My shrimp is amazing.”
The rest of our meal is finished in companionable silence, and I find that I enjoy spending time with him. Once I begin to relax and let go of all of my worries and preconceived notions, I realize that being around Nathan is easy. He’s obviously not hard on the eyes, he’s intelligent, and his sense of humor seems similar to mine.
“Want to get out of here?” he questions after we’ve finished dinner and he’s paid the check.
“And go where?”
“I don’t know. Let's go for a ride; it’s a nice night.” He comes around to my side of the table and takes my hand, gently tugging me up and out of my chair. He doesn’t give me an option, and I barely have enough time to grab my purse. He leads me outside and bypasses the car that’s idling at the curb waiting for me. We walk hand in hand around the corner and come to stop at a heap of metal that oddly resembles a motorcycle.
“You ever ride before?” he asks, handing me a helmet.
“Uhhh, no.”
“It’s easy, just wrap your arms around me, and hang on tight.”
“I’m not getting on that thing,” I declare with as much conviction as I can. He takes the helmet from my hands, unbuckles the straps, and places it on my head.
“It’s safe, Tori. I wouldn’t put you in any danger, I swear.”
There he goes with the Tori again after I already told him not to call me that. No one has ever called me that, and when he does it, I feel it everywhere. He finishes buckling the strap on my helmet; he takes my purse out of my hands, stores it, and mounts the bike, holding out his hand for me to take. “Come on.”
“Nathan, my car is just around the corner. Why don’t we go in that?”
“Because that would be going on a drive, and I want to go on a ride. It’s very different. Hop on, I promise you’ll be fine.”
Fuck, I say to myself as I shake my head but take his hand anyway. I straddle the bike and Nathan tells me where to put my feet. He pulls my hands tighter around his middle, and seconds later, the bike roars to life.
“Just relax and enjoy the ride, baby,” he calls out just before pulling into traffic. Holy shit, I squash the urge to scream, but I hang on as tight as I possibly can, too tight to be comfortable for him, I’m sure, but I don’t care. Serves him right for forcing me on this death trap; who in the hell rides a motorcycle in New York City anyway? It’s an accident waiting to happen. I let my body meld to his, move with his, and before long, my nerves have calmed down and I begin to enjoy the ride. He speeds us down the highway and over the bridge leading into New Jersey. He maneuvers through the streets like he’s no stranger to these parts. He knows where he’s going, and I’m sure he’s taken this route before.
We pull off into a dirt parking lot, and he brings the bike to a stop. I take the helmet off and Nathan helps me off the bike. When I finally look around, all I see is a dilapidated shack that doubles as an ice-cream shop.
“Ice cream? Seriously? We rode forty-five minutes on your death trap for ice cream?”
“Not just any ice cream. This is the best ice cream in the world.”
“Oh, well then, this I have to see.” Our hands are connected again as he leads me across the parking lot. I glance down, liking the way my hand fits in his and how his hand envelops mine, making me feel secure and protected, even if it’s only an illusion. We order our ice cream and head back outside, sitting side by side on an old bench that might buckle under the pressure of our combined weight at any time. We enjoy the silence, enjoying the ice cream, and more importantly, enjoy each other.
I need to let go of Nathan before I become too attached to him. Everything in me is telling me that he’s dangerous, but I just don’t know why. I’m at odds with myself, a war of emotions between what I want to do and what I think I have to do. It’s not an easy place to be, but with my life being so out of the ordinary, I