Page 119 of Ride With Me

Could it wait until tomorrow? No. Of course not.

So much for a relaxing weekend. All I wanted to do was lie in bed and daydream about Vince. Last night felt magical, and being brought back down to earth sucked. Especially because it meant having to focus on being Big while I was out in the real world.

My next issue hit when I tried to organize an Uber to my client’s offices. See, I don’t drive. I get way too overwhelmed with other vehicles on the road, and I get stressed-out with traffic being unpredictable. It’s easier to manage my anxiety as a passenger. So, I’d opened my app and balked at the rates being charged today. They were at least double what they’d usually be! A quick Google told me why: apparently, today of all days, therewere a bunch of different events happening around the city, including sports events and a music festival.

It felt like they’d conspired to fuck Sunday up.

Checking my bank account had made my stomach roil unpleasantly. If I took an Uber, I would only have fifty dollars left in my account until my next clients paid their invoices, assuming they paid them on time. I was usually a lot better at keeping a stash of emergency funds set aside, but a chest infection three weeks ago meant that most of that money went on doctor’s visits and medicine, even with my self-funded health insurance covering most of the cost.

So, I decided to ride my bike and catch a bus. Neither of those things were appealing, but I’d had no other choice.

And that all leads me to right now. Fixing the IT issue took way longer than I would have liked it to, and then I missed the last bus heading out to the suburbs, so it’s getting dark as I pedal down the road which leads from the city to my apartment.

There’s an almost eerie absence of traffic. I choose this road for that reason, even though it takes longer to get home this way, because it usually feels safer. Fewer cars means less likelihood of getting hit by one. But now, with the light quickly fading and the stretch of road seeming to extend on forever in front of me, it’s a bit creepy. Especially because this stretch of road is framed by old farmland, no longer in use but not developed into suburbia, either. It’s empty, silent, and scary.

Why the hell hasn’t the city put streetlights out here?

Then the rain starts. It’s just spitting at first, the odd droplet hitting me here and there, but I groan as the spitting turns into a drizzle and dark clouds roll overhead, dimming the already fading sunlight further.

I didn’t pack anything to protect me from the rain, because I didn’t think I needed to.

I have all the regrets.

I hope this is the end of my bad luck, but just as I’m squinting into the encroaching darkness, bent forward over the handlebars and trying to blink raindrops from my eyes, there’s a metallicsnapand my foot slips off the pedal as it spins uncontrollably. In my shock, my steering wobbles and I lose balance. Then the tires hit a greasy wet patch on the side of the road and I skid sideways.

Crying out as the bike topples over, I hit the ground painfully. My bike lands on top of me, and the pedal digs into my thigh. I lie there, stunned for a moment, before the pain kicks in.

I’m wearing jeans and a long-sleeved T-shirt, but my skin still stings from grazing my arms when I fell. I’m going to bruise, too. And, when I push the weight of my bike off my leg, I whimper as I look down and see a dark patch on my jeans from where the pedal tore a hole in the material.

Blood.

I feel dizzy and sick. My heart hammers and tears spring to my eyes. Panic makes it harder to breathe.

Then I realize that I’m sitting in the middle of the road in the dark and rain. My clothes are wet from the downpour, smeared with grease and dirt from my crash. Scrambling to my feet, I drag my bike onto the shoulder of the road. Sniffling, I whine as every movement tugs at my injuries, and sharp bursts of pain shoot along my skin.

At least I didn’t break a bone or twist an ankle or anything,I think, then groan at my own stupidity.Just invite more bad luck, why don’t you, Bear?

To distract myself from panicking more, I look at my bike.

Bigmistake.

The chain has snapped and it must have gotten twisted in the spokes of the rear wheel because they’re all bent and mangled, and the rear tire is flat. I don’t have enough supplies in my backpack to fix problems of this magnitude.

I might need to abandon my bike and get an Uber or something home. My heart sinks, but that seems the most reasonable choice at this point, assuming I can order an Uber to a random spot on a back road outside of the city.

Reaching into my front pocket, I frown when my hand comes up empty. I pat down my other pocket, then my rear pockets, but my phone is nowhere to be found. Pulling my backpack off, I rummage through it, unsurprised when it’s not in there. I never put it in my backpack. It’s always in my pocket.

Headlights illuminate the road as a car speeds toward me. Stepping backward into the grass, my gaze catches on something glinting on the asphalt’s dark surface.

My phone, I realize only seconds before the car whizzes past with awhooshof air and water. I don’t hear the crunch or smash, but I can see the debris of my phone littered across the road, tiny pieces of glass and plastic reflecting the red from the car’s taillights.

My heart thuds in my chest and there’s a rushing sound in my ears as I process what’s just happened.

Denial hits me hard.

“No, no, no, no, no!” I cry. Tears flood my vision, mingling with the rain which is now pelting down overhead.

My grazes sting, my bruises ache, and my last bit of hope is literally lying shattered across the road.

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