Page 41 of Letting it Ride

We follow the complicated directions Cam was given. I stick close to his side as we eventually come upon a tiny cafe that’s definitely not listed in any of the guidebooks. The paint is peeling on the building, the chairs mismatched.

It looks like a hole in the wall, which usually means it has the best food.

“What should we get?” I ask, keeping my voice low as I look over the creased menu with an eager grin. “Are there things the islands are known for?” We stick out like a sore thumb, the only tourists in the place.

Cam looks over his menu at me with a wink. “You trust me?”

“Yeah. Of course. Just don’t feed me something gross.” I wrinkle my nose.

I’m not the most adventurous when it comes to eating. I try to be open-minded, but I don’t like whenthings are too bland or too spicy. Or things that have a weird texture, like escargot or cow tongue. Bleh.

I once dated a guy who’d studied abroad in France, and he swore cow tongue was the best thing he’d ever had, and he made it for me.

It was most definitelynotthe best thing ever.

In fact, I still can’t get the chewy-mealy texture out of my head. I shudder at the memory.

Cam plucks the menu from my hand and sets it behind his. When the waiter comes over, he orders for both of us, only looking at me when the waiter asks what we’d like to drink.

I’ll admit I’m skeptical, but when the servers cover our table with dish after dish of steaming, fragrant food, all my misgivings are gone. This looks amazing.

“How do you know what to order?” I ask, helping myself to something fried. I dip it in a pale orange sauce that looks suspiciously like the concoction my sister-in-law Holly likes to put on fries and pop it in my mouth, letting out a little moan as the flavors burst on my tongue. “Oh my God. That’s so good.”

Cam digs into another dish, putting a square of pasta on his plate. “I looked it up before we came. These are all things that are supposed to be Bahamian specialties. This is their macaroni and cheese. Then we have conch fritters, which is whatyou just tried. Then conch salad, Johnny cake, and boiled fish.”

I reach for the conch salad. I’ve only heard of conch in relation to their shells, the ones that so many things in the market were made of. I didn’t realize there was some kind of meat inside. But the fritters were so good, and the second I try the salad, I’m hooked. The conch meat almost reminds me of calamari in its texture. It’s delicious, light, and almost sweet.

The waiter sets drinks in front of us—a soda for Cam, Malibu and pineapple for me. I take a sip, closing my eyes to savor the tanginess. It goes perfectly with the food and the feeling of the island.

I can see why people go on vacation to places like this all the time. It’s too bad we only have today to spend here. There’s so much to explore.

Maybe someday I can save up enough money to come back here for a few days. I make a mental note to look into the cost of flights to and from the Bahamas. Maybe Annika would come with me. We could lie on the beach, drink Mai Tais and Rum and Cokes and Malibu and pineapple all day and spend every evening eating conch fritters.

I down more than my fair share of the food by the time we have to leave the restaurant. I hope it all staysdown while we’re on the ATVs. They can’t be that bumpy, right? I cross my fingers.

All the food was just too good to leave on the plate, and now I’m so full that if I burp, some of my lunch may reappear, but it was a risk worth taking.

Jesus, then Cam wouldreallybe turned off. We’re finally in a good place, getting along and friendly, even though the sexual tension simmers just below the surface, at least for me. I don’t want to jeopardize our closeness.

My sense of direction is abysmal, so I let Cam lead us back through the marketplace—the one he swears is the same as the one we were just at, even though I only recognize a few stalls—and to a sign that announces thatATV TOURS START HERE.

The guides outfit us with helmets and get us settled on ATVs, one person per vehicle. I pull my hair back into a low ponytail before I settle the helmet on my head. It’s heavier than I thought it would be, and the musty smell inside blocks out the smell and sounds of the island. I feel like it would keep my skull from cracking in a collision, which I suppose is the point.

I rap it with my knuckles to make sure. Cam, of course, sees me do this, and takes the opportunity to sling his arm around my back and knock on the helmet, too. Isqueal and try to push him off of me, but I don’t push very hard. I’m enjoying his body being close to mine, the vibration of his body against my own as he laughs.

The vehicles seem more or less self-explanatory; hit the gas to go, the brake to stop, turn the handle bar to steer. Got it. I turn the key in the ignition, and it roars to life, the loud motor startling me.

I swallow over the lump in my throat. It’s okay. We’re okay. There’s a kid who looks younger than my students in our group. I can handle this.

We turn off the main road, away from the palm trees and view of the ocean as we follow the group of twelve tourists following one tour guide. Another one brings up the rear behind Cam and me. We follow a trail that heads into the woods, the tree canopy providing shade that feels refreshing in the heat. The gap between me and the person ahead of me soon grows wider, but I’m afraid to go too fast. Cam is patient, sticking right behind me. He doesn’t tell me to hurry up, and I could hug him for it.

I’m finally getting the hang of this, at least at low speeds, as we come to a hill. It’s steep, and my ATV isn’t making much progress with my foot light on the gas. I take a breath and push down on the gas.

The ATV jolts forward, climbing the hill. I glanceback at Cam, a smile stretched across my face. How does he look hot even with a huge helmet on?

But then the vehicle lurches as it hits something.

I turn back just in time to see the ground rushing up toward me.

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