Page 31 of Throttle

“Caleb.”

“Hot guy from the bar, Caleb? Hell yes. Are you going to answer or leave him sitting on read?”

“I don’t know.” I shrug.

“You should.”

I place my phone inside my bag. “Maybe later. I want to see how Throttle is doing. Rain check on girl’s time?”

She wears a disappointed smile. “Sure thing.”

I intend to respond to him. Just not now. Besides, I don't feel like looking too eager and desperate.

I exit the gym, pulling up my hoodie and readjusting my fallen ponytail.

Tank leaves the shop, and I quickly survey the surroundings, hoping to spot my injured best friend.

“Hey. Have you seen Throttle?”

“Yeah, your dumbass boy loaded up his dirt bike. Went to the track.”

“Of course he did.” How does he expect to heal? He forgets he isn't invincible. So stubborn.

“I realize now I should have stopped him, but he would have told me to shove it.”

I wave goodbye to Tank and make my way to the single motocross circuit that Throttle frequents for practice. My stomach drops when I see him doing laps. What if he falls? What if his injuries are worse than he’s making them not to be?

With my hands tucked inside my hoodie pockets, I walk toward him, my boots sinking into the mud.

It’s only the two of us. The air carries the scent of fallen leaves and a refreshing cool breeze.

Despite my concerns, I still smile.

As he does a front wheelie on his bike, I let out a curse.

Showoff.

He behaves exactly like a kid. Full of energy. Nothing will bring him to a fall. That's why my feelings toward him are the way they are. The reason my heart beats uncontrollably around him. I hope to be by his side constantly. It's intriguing how someone can possess such lethal abilities and yet be gentle and kind. The combination makes my body hum.

Once he sees me, he rides over and removes his helmet. My God. It looks like a scene straight from a movie. His hair effortlessly falls in the right places, showcasing his sharp features. His jawline so perfectly defined. The intensity in those brown eyes.

He greets me using the name I cherish. "Hey, my little rose."

I fold my arms across my chest. “The doctor said you need to rest. Take it easy. You’re doing a shit job of listening to him.”

He smirks. “Yeah, well, resting isn’t my thing.” He holds his helmet out for me to grab.

“What’s that for?”

“I want to teach you how to ride.”

I let out a laugh. “You've mistaken me for the other Tequila who excels at such things. I have no coordination skills whatsoever.” It’s true. Took me forever to ride my bicycle without training wheels as a kid. While my dad was patient with me, I can recall him saying, “Hazel, it's alright if you never learn.” I finally mastered it. Next, I collided with a ditch, resulting in a deep gash on my knee that required stitches. Yeah, I haven't ridden a bicycle since then. Was also picked last in gym class. Very sad. I couldn't blame the other kids because I was terrible at volleyball, kickball, and softball. Anything requiring athleticism.

“Nothing good can come from this.” My attempt at convincing him was failing, as he jiggles the helmet at me.

“We’ll take it nice and slow. You have my word.” His sultry stare was setting my body on fire. “Do you trust me?” He holds out his hand and I pause, but only for a second, before I accept it and he pulls me to him as I straddle the front of his KTM.

“This isn’t the soft magic carpet I had envisioned, Aladdin.”

---