Page 58 of Guarded By Death

His sweet expression turns into a scowl. "That's different."

"How?"

"I just... I don't want to think about that."

I open my mouth to protest but I see the waitress approaching us with a large milkshake.

"Here you go." She sets down the clear glass, filled to the brim with sweet, chocolate ice cream and topped with whip cream and a single cherry. I thank her with a smile as she walks away to check on the other man.

"I want to know what our plan is. Yes, I'm eighteen now but I'll just keep getting older."

"I don't mind,” he tells me.

"I do. I mean, is that what you want? For you to look like that." I gesture at him. "And me to grow older?" He leans back in his seat, sprawling his legs out under the table. I can feel them touching mine. When he doesn’t reply, I sigh and point to the milkshake. "Is this safe?"

"Already checked the kitchen, the guy making it was a dull boring man, no poisoning going on here," he jokes, but I don’t laugh. We need to talk about what’s going on between us.

Finally, he caves. "I just want you; I don't care if you have gray hair and wrinkles."

"I just wish you would tal-"

He cuts me off by holding his hand up. "Okay, so about the era," he changes the subject.

I tilt my head curiously. "I thought you said you didn't mingle."

"Anything to get you off that subject," he jokes and I huff. He knows I'm curious about him, so I wave my hand for him to continue.

He plucks the cherry off the top of the milkshake. "Give me." I playfully demand and he shakes his head.

"Open wide,” he grins.

I give him a look but open my mouth, ready to catch this cherry no matter how stupid I look. He throws it with perfect precision of course, and I don't have to move a fraction before the sweet cherry plops onto my tongue.

He laughs as he pats himself on the back. "Should have played baseball," he says with a smug expression.

"Okay you had your fun, now spill," I gently order as I bring the red and white striped straw to my lips.

He sighs. "I didn't do much, but I did enjoy watching films."

I lean forward, a curious expression on my face. "Oh, tell me!"

Our food arrives and over the meal we discuss his life. "I used to sit at the drive-ins or go to the theatre. I just really enjoyed watching stories unfold through the screen." His expression is longing.

"Romance?" I ask, hoping he will say yes. I'm a sucker for romance. He nods hesitantly, and I can tell he’s slightly embarrassed which is a new look for him. He's always so confident, I love breaking down these walls he builds.

By the time we exit through the doors of the diner, it's dark. The light rain is gone but it has been replaced with a hazy fog that travels a foot or so off the ground. I hand Pierce his hoodie and pull on the leather jacket before throwing the helmet back on.

I hop onto his bike, finding that it's easier the second time. I rest my head onto his back, feeling comfortable. Before taking off, he leans back to steal a kiss.

We head down the street at a steady pace, the roar of the motor drowning out my busy mind. I’m thankful we’re not zooming down the slick roads; I don't think my stomach could handle taking the turns at such a quick rate since I ate so much.

I run my fingers through his hair, worried about him not wearing a helmet. He would be fine of course, but it still terrifies me.

I place my chin on his shoulder and look ahead to the pitch-black road, a streetlight flickers in the distance but it’s low light is muffled by the thick fog that surrounds us. Only when we get closer, and the light flutters on can I make out the silhouette of a hooded figure that is standing in the middle of the desolate street.

I scream as the bike screeches to a halt; Pierce jerks the bars violently, sending the bike sideways. The crashing sounds of twisted metal colliding with the pavement rips through the air. My body flies off the leather seat, barreling towards the hooded figure who is now mere feet away.

Thirty-two

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