Page 17 of Surviving You, Scotch and Sammy 1

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Three days after our official relationship debut, Sam pulls out another surprise, though of course it shouldn’t have been a surprise at all. This is a small town and I already knew this about him, but still, I nearly choked on my tongue when I came face to face with his reveal.

“Do you have to work this afternoon?”

We exit the school hall and walk into the sunny afternoon and our clasped hands swing between us in the carefree way only teenagers can manage. “Yup. But I have an hour to get there. Walk with me?”

“Ah, no. No walking today.”

“Oh, right, okay.” I attempt to tug my fingers free from his. He’s been nothing but the perfect gentleman all week, but this still feels surreal. It’s like I’m waiting for the hammer to drop. Despite Sam’s constant presence and basically being up in my space for an hour every morning before the sun comes up, then from first bell of the day till the last, I still feel like I’m dreaming.

“Well, I better get going then--”

“Hey, no walking,” he explains, keeping my hand in his in a tight hold. “But I have your chariot waiting.”

I stop in place when I spot it. “Wait. No.”

“Come on, let me take you for a ride.” He looks at me with a wolfish grin, but then he laughs and continues to tug me toward his ugly, poo-brown motorcycle that looks like he might have picked up out of the trash. “I swear it’s safe. Don’t judge a book by its cover.”

“It looks like it might fall apart in a light breeze.” It looks like gum might be the only thing holding the bike together.

“I swear it’s safe. It’s just the aesthetics. The engine and body are perfect. Angelo has a gift, Sammy, an honest to god freaky ass gift. He can take any engine and make it work. He’s got magic fingers, cause his music is pretty awesome too.”

“Sam, I can’t.”

“You can’t because you’re scared of dying? Or because you’ll get in trouble with your folks?”

“Mostly the death thing. My parents know I walk from school to Dixie’s.” I had to fight for that too. Thank god my father loves his job more than he loves me. It means he doesn’t have time to drive me to and from school, and my mom doesn’t drive. At all. “I’m definitely scared of dying.”

Sam takes my other hand and pulls me around to face him. “Do you honestly think I’ll put you in danger? Ever? I spent years trying to get you to agree to a date. I won’t ever risk you.”

“But… helmets,” I flounder. “Safety.”

“I have a helmet for you.” He turns and drags me the last twenty feet to his ugly bike. He grabs a vibrant red helmet that looks to be almost brand new and top of the line, and he tucks my hair behind my ears. “This is yours today. I’ll risk it.”

“Sam--”

He grabs his backpack and feeds his arms into the straps so it sits on his front. “Keep your bag on your back. I’ll keep mine here. That leaves room for you.” He climbs onto the bike without giving me a single extra second to object or run for my life. He kicks the stand up, then slams his foot down. The bike roars to life, noisier than anything I’ve ever heard. “Get on, Sammy. Hold onto me. Trust me.”

Crap. Crap. Crap. I look around the parking lot half expecting to see my father storming toward me in a rage, but nothing. Not even any rubbernecking students. If I could think clearly, I’d remember that Sam Turner has been riding a motorcycle to school for years. “Wait!” I shout over the roar of the bike. “Are you legally allowed to have a passenger?”

He laughs at my loud words and his finger comes up over his lips to shush me. He takes my hand in his and he tugs me toward him. “No, I’m not. But I promise you’re safe with me.”

“Jesus. I don’t do impulsive stuff like this.”

He takes the helmet from my hands and plops it over my head. He ever so gently fastens the straps beneath my chin then kisses the front mouth section of the helmet. “Today’s a good day to start living your life, Sammy.”

I take one last scan of the parking lot, then throwing all caution to the wind, I let my smile cross my face. Sam’s mirrors mine, then I use his hand to balance and I throw my leg over the seat that’s way higher than expected. From afar, this bike looks small and almost pathetic. When sitting on it, I realize my mistake. It’s a giant meaty bike. I can feel the power between my legs and I’m both terrified and more excited than I’ve ever been in my life.

Sam takes my hands and threads them around his stomach under his bag straps. “Hold on, Ricci. I’m taking you for the first of a million rides. I promise you’ll enjoy this.”

“Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god.” Sam revs the bike under me and I stifle a squeal. “Oh my god. This’ll be okay. Oh my god.” I feel the rumbles of laughter roll through his chest, but then with a second roaring rev, he lifts his foot from the blacktop and we shoot forward. “Oh my god!”

We pull out onto the street quickly and move forward at a reasonably respectable speed. We cruise along a few residential streets in the complete opposite direction I need to go to get to Dixies, then Sam speeds up and we fly across the train tracks indicating the edge of town. I squeal loudly and clutch at his stomach, but I clutch with excitement instead of fear. My heart is jumping and spinning in my chest and it feels so damn good, I probably wouldn’t even mind if I died today. This is so much fun that it would be worth it.

Within minutes, Sam has us cruising along old dirt roads, essentially running a semi-circle around ‘his’ side of town and staying far away from mine.

“You having fun Ricci?”

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