Page 58 of Under My Skin
“Yeah.” I take the small metal ring and tag from her hand, flipping it over in my palm so the letter faces up. “My mom gave it to him when he first got the bike. He always had it on his key.”
She frowns. “But you took it off? Even though you have the samelast name?”
I brush my thumb over the leather, feeling the divots of my last initial. “I want it to stay like this. The way he had it.”
She tilts her head to get a better look. “Can I take a picture of it?”
I glance at the keychain in my palm again. “Why?”
She shrugs. “Inspiration.”
“Uh, sure?”
“Thanks.” Ignoring my obvious confusion, she pulls out her phone and snaps a picture of the keychain resting on my palm.
Once she’s done, I put the keychain away and place the lid on the box. When I meet her stare again, her eyes are scanning my face. There’s subtle concern laced in her features, but it’s not enough to make me think I’ve said something wrong. She just looks like she cares.
Without saying anything, she pushes up on her toes and kisses me. I’ve kissed her so much tonight, but somehow this one feels different. She isn’t trying to turn me on, and she isn’t kissing me because she’s turned on. This one sends a completely different message, and I don’t think I realized how alone I’ve felt in my grief until now.
She breaks the kiss, lowering back onto her heels, and I’m left speechless. If I were to say anything, I think my voice might crack. So instead, I lace her fingers in mine and kiss the back of her hand before leading us out of the apartment and down the stairs.
She doesn’t argue when I hand her my jacket this time.
She doesn’t say anything about the color of my bike not being safe.
She doesn’t even hesitate before setting the box down to pull on the helmet.
When she mounts the bike behind me, her grip is relaxed. She holds the box with one arm and me with the other.
It’s such a small shift, but I notice. I notice the way her hands don’t shake and how she doesn’t flinch when the engine turns over. I notice the way her breathing stays steady and the way sherests her head against my back instead of keeping it on a swivel. They’re all small things, and it might be a stretch to think I’m the only reason for any of them, but having her trust feels like a gift.
I know Lucy said we could keep this between us, but I’ll have to talk to Simon about it. He’s been too good of a friend to keep something like this from him. Hell, he’s been like family. As anxious as I am thinking about his reaction, I’m more content on the drive back to his apartment than I have been in a while. There are hardly any cars, the moon is bright overhead, and all I’m left with is Lucy holding on to me, her thumb gently brushing my chest where she has her hand.
By the time we reach the apartment, my hand is on hers. Not to prevent her from touching me like last night but because touchinghermight be my new addiction. I don’t let go until I need to back the bike into the parking spot, and even then, I rest my hand on her thigh as I look over my shoulder and maneuver into the space.
I cut the engine and help her down. Her feet land on the pavement more gracefully this time, and when I take off her helmet, I say, “Riding on the back of a bike just might suit you.”
“I guess with you it’s notsobad.” A grin teases at the corner of her mouth, and it brings my own to my lips.
Taking off my helmet, I dismount the bike and tuck it under my arm. “Tired?” It isn’t too late. Maybe ten.
She shakes her head. “Not really. I figured we could watch a movie or something.”
“Just don’t let Simon pick.”
Her smile widens as we walk toward the apartment. “Apparently, there’s a certain Spider-Man movie I need to see.”
I give her a sideways glance. “Are you sure? I’d hate to bore you with a superhero who isn’t hot.”
“Well,” she says, skipping ahead of me. “If I start watching you more than the movie, you’ll know that’s the case.” She spins on her heels to check for my reaction, a playful smile teasing the corner ofher mouth as she walks backward, still gingerly carrying the box of my dad’s belongings.
I huff a laugh and scratch the side of my head. What have I gotten myself into?
She turns back around. I don’t know how she does it, but just watching her happily make her way to the apartment door eases something inside of me. I don’t think I even realized how discontent I’ve felt before her. Because there’s something about Lucy in her oversized cardigan that makes me feel like anything is possible.
“What are you smiling about?” she asks as she waits for me to unlock the door. Wiping a hand over my mouth, I chuckle. “I don’t know. You, I think.”
She gives me a funny look like she might want me to elaborate, but her attention shifts as soon as I unlock the door and swing it open.
