Page 22 of Under My Skin
Securing my helmet, I swing my leg over the side of the bike. Part of me comes alive every time I sit for one of these rides. There’s something about starting the day with familiar, winding roads, mountain scenery, and the rumble of the engine beneath me.
Putting down the face shield, I bring the bike to life and slowly ease out of my parking spot. As much as I’ve adopted this ritual as my own, I don’t need to roll the bike to the main road in neutral. My drives aren’t quite as early as the ones he used to go on.
I pull onto the main road and head toward the secluded one lane mountain pass, the leaves churning up as my bike’s tires hug the asphalt with every curve. I have no way of knowing if this is the same route my dad used to take. I doubt it. I wish I would have asked him. I wish I could drive the same roads and take the same turns that brought him solace. Maybe then my own demons would stop chasing me.
It might not be the same roads, but the day after my dad had his heart attack, this is the route I took. I had never even given this road much thought. It wasn’t how I usually went anywhere. There was just something about the burnt orange trees and rolling hills that called to me that day.
At first, I only went for these rides after the hard days: the day after he passed, the day after the funeral, the day after helping my mom sort out finances. The following morning, I always woke up needing an escape, and taking his bike out felt like the best way to do it. It cleared my head—even if it was only temporary.
I’m not sure if the hard days got more frequent, or if I just liked the way getting up early and taking out his bike made me feel, but somewhere along the way, this became my daily routine.
Chapter Thirteen
LUCY
I foldthe throw blanket and drape it over the back of my brother’s brown leather couch as I take in the apartment around me. I’ve only ever been here for short visits. Usually, I stay at my parents’ house a few minutes away, and Simon would go there to visit with me while I’m in town.
It’s a nice apartment. A little bare, but he certainly takes better care of it than Jasmine is probably taking care of mine. Walking over to the kitchen nook, I open the blinds for the three bay windows and let the morning light shine in, passing through the cracks of multicolor trees.
Simon still hasn’t come out of his room, but I haven’t been able to go back to sleep since seeing Everett this morning. I’m not taking his room. It feels wrong to put him out when I’m not his guest. I’m not sure I’d even call myself Simon’sguest.He’s just doing me a favor, so I don’t have to be around my parents more than I’d like.
I check the time on my phone again. It’s just after nine. Still plenty of time to see my parents, but late enough to feel the pressure of getting ready and putting things into motion. I wish Simonwere awake. If he were out here, I’d at least have a better reason to stall.
I can’t even pinpoint why I’m dreading seeing them so much. Under normal circumstances, I have a good relationship with my parents. Or at least I thought I did. Coming home always felt like a needed break, but now I’m afraid of what I’m walking into.
The front door opens, jolting me from my thoughts. Everett looks almost foreboding with his dark jeans and jacket, motorcycle helmet held by his side. It’s his eyes and face that soften him. Nothing about his dark brown eyes feels intimidating. If anything, they’re sweet. Especially when he tilts his head and points toward the laundry closet. “Did you dry your sheets?”
I shake my head. “They’re not my sheets.”
He makes a sound between a laugh and a scoff as he walks into the kitchen and sets down his helmet. He eyes me with a playful smirk. “Oh, so you’re expecting some type of turn-down service?” He rests his elbows on the counter like he’s pondering the thought. “That’ll cost you extra.”
“No,” I answer deliberately, like speaking slowly might help him understand. “They’re not my sheets because I’m not taking your room.” Without another word, I walk toward the refrigerator next to him and pull it open. Suddenly, getting my day started isn’t such a burden.
Scanning the shelves for something to eat, I’m keenly aware of how close we are. He’s shifted his body in this direction now, and even though I’m not looking at him, I can feel his eyes locked on me.
“Can I help you with something?” I ask, still not looking.
“No,” he answers happily as he gives a light shrug. “I’m just trying to figure out how we’ll both fit on that couch.”
I shut the fridge and turn to face him. “We’re not sharing the couch.”
“Oh, right.” He nods as he stands to his full height. Since whendid Everett Meyers get so tall? I have to lift my chin just to keep eye contact with him. A faint smile pulls at the corner of his mouth. “Because after you confront your parents about their divorce and potentially get your first tattoo, you’re going to sleep in an actual bed.”
Is that why he’s doing this? Because he knows today will be a big day? My eyes narrow, searching for his real motive.
He nods with a slight scrunch to his nose like he can read my thoughts. “Trust me, you’ve never gotten a tattoo before. You’re going to want the bed.”
The wordwhyis on the tip of my tongue, but the thought of getting this tattoo later is already making me nauseous. The last thing I need is to learn something that will scare me out of it. Will my skin burn all night? Will I bleed? I guess it would be easier to just wash his sheets again instead of getting blood on the couch. And the same goes for ink. Maybe?
“Only tonight,” I say in a clipped tone.
He grins and then kicks off from the cabinet. “Perfect.” Walking out of the kitchen, he doesn’t look back when he says, “I’m taking a shower. Put your sheets in the dryer.”
But I can’t stop watching him. What the hell just happened? I think I got swindled into taking his room, and I’m not sure how I feel about it.
With a scoff only I can hear, I turn on my heels and head toward the laundry closet. If I’m going to sleep in his room tonight, I guess the last thing I need is for the sheets to be damp.
As the dryer runs, I make myself a quick breakfast of Cap’n Crunch because it’s probably the most nutritional thing in my brother’s pantry. Well, either this or a box of Wild Berry Pop-Tarts.
