Page 30 of Crash: Love in Scrubs
“You look incredible,” I said, still holding her hand from the spin. “You ready for tonight?”
She gave me a slow once-over and clocked the motorcycle behind me. “Is that what we’re riding?”
“You scared?” I asked, tugging her gently toward me.
She locked the door behind her and turned, eyes bouncing between me and the bike. “Promise I’m safe with you. Because I want to ride so bad, but you know…”
“I know,” I nodded. “It’s exactly why we’re doing this and not something else. You don’t move in fear. I see that in you. Sodon’t let it hold you now. Get that muthafucka in check so you can live.”
I grabbed her hand, kissed it, then led her to the bike. I took one more look at her, and those damn eyes had me ready to be the most obedient, nasty-ass man alive. They would have me eating out of her damn hand and anything else that had her essence on it. I shook my head, laughing to myself, then buckled the helmet on her gently.
I climbed on first, slid my own helmet on, and waited for her to settle in behind me.
She climbed up and wrapped her arms around me, tight and trusting.
“I’m ready,” she yelled.
I started the engine and felt it come alive under me. Sametra leaned into me more and gripped me tighter. Her sweet, innocent giggle made me shake my head.
“Let’s ride.”
The rideto Playful Spirit Adult Golf & Go-Karts was everything I hoped it would be. Sametra held onto me like her life depended on it, but I could feel her relaxing into the rhythm of the bike, leaning with me when I took corners. By the time we pulled into the parking lot, she was laughing behind me, the sound carrying over the engine.
I cut the engine and helped her off, watching her face as she pulled off the helmet. Her cheeks were flushed, eyes bright with adrenaline.
“How you feel?” I asked, taking her helmet and setting both on the bike.
“Like I want to do that again,” she grinned, shaking out her ponytail. She stood on her toes and pecked my lips. This fucking woman right here.
“That was...”
“Exhilarating? Fun? Amazing? What?”
“Way better than all of that.” She looked up at the neon sign flashing and grinned. “Ready to get your ass beat, Dr. Holloway?”
I started looking around like she couldn’t possibly be talking to me, then pointed to my chest. We both cracked up laughing.
“You ain’t beating shit over here, LT. It’s about to be belt to ass,” I said, tapping her on the butt as she walked ahead of me toward the entrance, “on anything I touch.”
“Oh, you don’t know what you just started,” she said, throwing that fire-filled look over her shoulder with a smile I knew was rare. I hated cliché shit, never been one for poetry or frilly words, but Sametra Jonelle had me like a moth to a flame. “I don’t like to lose. I hope you still wanna talk to me afterwards.”
Inside, the place was buzzing with arcade games, neon lights, and the sound of engines revving from the track. I paid for our sessions while Sametra sized up the competition, a few teenagers, and some couples looking way less serious than she did.
“You sure you ready for this?” I asked, grabbing our helmets.
“Baby, I’ve been driving since I was fourteen. My daddy taught me in his pickup truck behind the Walmart.” She strapped on her helmet, all business now. “Question is, can you handle losing to a woman? Because you’re gonna be eating your words here soon.”
We got our safety briefing from some bored-looking teenager who clearly didn’t realize he was about to witness a massacre. Sametra listened intently, nodding like she was memorizing every word. Meanwhile, I was just watching her, already planning how I was gonna let her win the first race just to see that smile.
“Alright, racers, choose your weapons,” the kid said, gesturing toward the line of go-karts.
Sametra walked the line like she was picking out a car at the dealership, checking tires, testing the steering. She settled on a red one, sliding into the one she picked.
“Good choice,” I said, climbing into the blue kart next to her.
“I know,” she replied, revving her engine and shooting me a look that said she was about to make me regret this whole idea.
The flag dropped, and she shot off the line like she’d been launched from a cannon. By the first turn, she was already two kart-lengths ahead, taking the inside line like a damn professional.
