Page 21 of Biker's Tribute: Property of Bear

"Are you sure?"

"Get under the covers," he says. "I'll sleep on top."

"Or on the couch."

"Trust me," he grunts. "I have absolutely no interest in you. Dorky black women with big butts aren't exactly my type."

It's suspicious he said 'big butts', but I give Ethan one more definitive once over and... considering his racial comments, I assume he's telling the truth.

"Promise?"

"You couldn't get my dick hard if you tried."

"That's disgusting."

"Yup," he says. "You said it yourself. I guess I'm too racist to be attracted to you."

This is normally the point I would say "seek therapy" to someone, but that ship has sailed with Ethan and at this point, I doubt therapy could fix him. More of a personal opinion than a professional one, but he's at least right about the fact that this incident has completely compromised my neutrality towards him.

"Good," I respond instead, hoping my wicked stare conveys exactly what I think about this man and his racial comments, preferences and all the rest.

"We need sleep."

"For the cops tomorrow?"

"For New York City. You got family there?"

"No. My family's from Chicago."

"Hm," he says. "Interesting."

"Is it?"

"Yes. Sleep. Now."

It's very believable to me that this man is racist, but considering his big butt comment and the fact that we all look the same in the dark, I get under the covers. He agreed to sleep on top, so if he freezes to death, that's not my problem.

Ethan takes his jacket off the motel office chair once I'm under the covers and my head is resting against the pillow -- creating a hair care crisis for future me to worry about -- and I think he's going to cover himself with it, since he has nothing, but he throws it over me instead.

"It's cold," he says. "I don't want your ass shivering and keeping me up all night."

I don't respond to him because sharing a bed in a motel room like this feels risky enough without us arguing. Everybody knows how that typically ends…

The mattress almost touches the ground when Ethan climbs into bed with me. Either this place is cheap as hell or he really is the size of a horse. He props his head up with his hands as he spreads his arms and then he takes one arm out from this position and lays it on top of me.

I freeze. Fuck. Did I just get fooled by this white boy?

"It's so you don't run away," he grunts. "Don't worry, I won't feel your ass up."

"You better not..." I mutter quietly enough that there could be some plausible deniability if he heard me.

I try to push his arm away, just to feel how heavy it is, and I accidentally move the thick plank of muscle over my lungs. Sucking in air takes more effort now. I shift to move a little bit and even moving beneath his arm feels difficult.

This man is enormous and his arm is way heavier than I expected. He can really trap my ass against this bed with just one arm... Fuck.

"Stop fighting and sleep," He grunts after I try to use more of my weight to push him off. "It won't work and it'll just piss me off."

"Good night, Ethan."

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