Harley in the Sky - Akemi Dawn Bowman Page 0,62

first, I try to keep my body a polite distance away from his, but every turn and brake forces me closer toward him.

Eventually I stop trying to inch away and relax against his back, hoping he can’t feel how fast my heart is racing.

If he asks, I’ll blame it on the motorbike.

Every now and then I pick up a scent from his neck—like trees and chocolate, woodsy and warm.

It sets my skin alive like I’m a sparkler on New Year’s Eve.

The moment before the fireworks.

Vas maneuvers across the road, turning down a narrow path. The trees zip past us like we’re fast-forwarding through time. I’m barely conscious of how dark the sky has gotten, or how the bike’s headlights make the road look like a tunnel.

When we reach a small dirt patch at the side of the road, Vas pulls in and kicks the bike stand down. He helps me slide off first, holding my fingers through his gloved hand, and then we dangle our helmets over the handlebars.

Vas’s hair is wild, and it makes me laugh thinking that even a helmet couldn’t tame the mess on his head. “Was that okay?” he asks, tucking his keys into his jacket pocket.

I nod, fighting the flush I’m sure is all over my body. “Still in one piece, so you’re clearly a man of your word.”

Unsmiling, he points toward the trees. “It’s just a few minutes’ walk through there.”

The thinning woodland lets a considerable amount of light through the branches, but the path is overgrown with marsh grass and reeds. There are mushrooms tucked away near some of the trees, and a symphony of crickets and wildlife is scattered around us. I try not to think about all the snakes that are probably nearby.

And then we step into a clearing, where the grass fades to dirt and rock and there’s an old lighthouse a few feet away, looking worn and forgotten.

“Are we allowed to be here?” I whisper nervously.

Vas pulls the door open, the creak sending an echo through the hollow space. “Probably not, but I didn’t see a sign. Besides, it will only take a second.”

I’m about to argue that I’m almost positive there’s a sign somewhere, and that we probably just didn’t notice it because it’s dark and everything is overgrown. But Vas seems so determined, that I don’t want to be the one to kill the mood.

So I follow him up the stairs until we’re both standing at the railing, shadows rippling across the wide body of water below us.

Vas sets his hands on the metal bar, soaking in the glow of the faraway town on the other side of the water. I’m standing beside him, hypersensitive to the curves of his neck and the way his ears are just a little pointy at the tips. And then I see why he brought me here.

The town in the distance isn’t a town at all. It’s Maison du Mystère, the twinkling lights wound up every tent and the spotlights waving at the entrance sign. And beside it is our campsite, the collection of trailers and motor homes in shades of white, gray, and brown, the massive trucks at the back, the bunkhouses, and even the Lunch Box in all its colorful double-decker glory.

It’s a view of the world I love so much, with the clusters of smoky starlight above it. It’s a view of the place I so desperately want to feel like home.

I lean forward over the railing, taking in a breath of swampy air, and imagine there’s no ground below me. I imagine I’m floating high above Maison du Mystère, like I’m hanging from a static trapeze with silk ropes stretching all the way to the moon and beyond. I imagine I exist among the clouds and stars.

I imagine I live in a world where I belong.

Vas’s feet shifting on the floor bring me back, reminding me I’m not alone. I turn my head, my face undoubtedly brighter than any of the lights in the distance, and smile.

“This is amazing,” I say. “It feels like we’re a million miles up in the sky, doesn’t it?” I take in the night, enveloping around us like everything above the earth is melting together.

Vas lets his hands drop to his sides, shifting his body toward me so we’re facing each other. He studies his feet, and then he lifts his chin up so we’re looking into each other’s eyes.

His are such a soft green. Too gentle for those harsh eyebrows. But

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