Anchor - M. Mabie Page 0,49

Hahahaha,” he erupted. “You look ridiculous.” He had to turn away to get a grip. I looked down at myself and silently agreed.

“It’s not that bad.”

“It’s not? You look like the result of a purple and yellow crayon gang war. It looks like a costume.” He could barely choke out his words between his attempts to breathe. “Do you want to wear it? It won’t hurt my feelings if you take some of it off.”

I didn’t want to take any of it off. As dumb as I looked and felt, I was proud of my present. Thank God the bike was a nice silver color. Had it been either purple or yellow too, I would have pretended to be much more hungover.

“Nope, I’m wearing it and you have to ride with me,” I said, turning the embarrassment back at him. We’d have to share this humiliation.

He quirked an eyebrow like I’d challenged him. “Okay then, I‘ll go get my shoes on.”

While I waited, I straddled my bike. It was actually really comfortable. I bargained with the universe that since I was wearing the most atrocious riding outfit, they’d let me not wreck on our first ride. It was going to be a challenge to pull cool off, but I’d give it my best shot.

Soon Casey came out of the laundry room door and I fell purple-helmet-head-over-yellow-sneakers in love with him all over again. He wore a midriff cut-off Frankie Says Relax T-shirt, the shortest pair of running shorts I’d ever seen, a lime-green headband, blue aviators, and a very well kept vintage pair of Air Jordan's, laced up the cool way—tongues out.

“Honeybee,” he shouted with gusto and clapped his hands together. “Let’s ride.”

Some men would have told me to change. Some men wouldn’t have put in the effort—or thought—into buying the array of thoughtful accessories he had. Some men would have gone into the house and put on typical riding clothes.

Not my man. He embraced it and instead of us being a weirdo and a hot guy out for a ride, we were a pair of weirdos in love.

Saturday, August 7, 2010

MY GIRL WAS A beast and we looked like two fools in love.

Not only did she not whine and complain about the crazy things I’d bought for her to wear—and in my defense, I didn’t imagine it looking like that—but she seemed to really enjoy it. We didn’t go anywhere too extreme for our first ride, but I wanted to show her a few of my favorite spots. Our house was in a great location for riding no matter what your skill level. We took the road that went up the back of a small bluff overlooking the bay. I’d packed a few things in the small pouch on my bike and we stopped to catch our breath and get a drink.

I checked my phone for the time and saw I had a message from Cory.

Cory: I hope you’re ready for tonight, bro. You’re getting torn up bachelor-style. We’ll be there at 7:30 for pre-game.

I’d suspected as much. And to their credit, it worked out really great since everyone was in town. Blake's family was staying at the Ashcroft Hotel downtown, the same one we’d had our first night in, and Troy was crashing at Cory and Micah’s. Audrey was at my dad and Carmen’s, where Morgan still lived. To be quite honest, I loved knowing that our family was all in one place. Our wedding was going to be a lot of fun.

Me: I’ll be ready. I’m always ready to drink you under the table.

“So how’s that new bike treating you? You doing okay?” It wasn’t my style to worry and fret over someone, but that woman’s body had been through the wringer, and not that long ago. I watched as she drank water, some of it spilling down the front of her, and thanked God that she hadn’t been hurt worse. Fuck, the way she fell, she could have very easily been paralyzed. She could have broken her back or neck. At the very least, she could have broken an arm or leg. Sure her injuries were fucking awful, but her healing as fast as she did helped me stay sane and thankful they weren’t worse.

“I feel great. My leg muscles burn, but I’m pretty good I think.”

I’d worked up a good sweat on the way up and so had she. It was running down her forehead from under her helmet.

“Are you hot in that thing?” I’d