Page 11 of The Keeper
He looks at me with a smirk.
“After your glamazon comment last night, I figured you in jeans was a safe bet.”
“I have to be honest. I’ve never been on a bike date before. Two points for creativity.” I ring the bell twice for emphasis.
“Two points? That’s it?” He opens the passenger door to the truck and pulls out a blue helmet. “I deserve atleastfive.”
I laugh.
“You’ve gotta do a lot more than throw me on a bike to get big points with me.”
His face shows the hint of a smile as he walks towards me and plops the helmet on my head, then clips the straps under my chin. He takes a step back and just looks at me, causing my face to flush.
“Perfect.”
He steps back towards his bike, straddles the seat, and calls a ‘let’s go’ as we take off down the road.
It has been a really long time since I’ve ridden a bike. At least since before I started driving, if not longer. I forgot how fun it is. We pedal next to each other down the road, and at this slower pace, I’m able to soak in details about the day that would normally race past me.
Like what an absolutely gorgeous day it is, and how the sun is high but not too hot. Or the leaves on the ground, when the abscission of leaves doesn’t happen on most trees in my neighborhood. Or something less beautiful, like the fact the people down the road decided it would be okay to leave their stained mattress at the curb. Bleh.
It’s a short ride, maybe twenty minutes total, and we don’t really talk. We just alternate between racing and riding at a leisurely pace. When we finally pull into the Atwater Village Fun Center, I ring my bell over and over as I race past Mack towards the bike racks.
“I beat you,” I say with feigned innocence as I lock my bike into the rack and pull off my helmet.
Mack just smiles.
“Congratulations. Now, have you been here before?”
I shake my head.
“Good. Because today we are going to have awesome kid fun.”
“Mini-golf?” I ask.
“And bumper boats.”
“You know if we ride the go-karts, I’m going to completely kick your ass.”
He just looks at me and smiles.
“I don’t doubt that in the slightest.”
After locking our bikes to the rack, Mack grabs my hand and loosely links his fingers in mine. It’s easy. Natural. Like we’ve always done this. He squeezes my hand lightly and gives me a sweet smile before leading me inside.
He doesn’t let go, not even when one of the employees asks us to hold onto golf clubs to help measure which ones we should use. He doesn’t let go until we get outside and pick up a scorecard and golf pencil.
“Alright, so what are the stakes of this game?” I ask, crossing my arms as we look over the first hole.
“Ahhhhh, so you’re a betting girl, huh?”
“Absolutely. I amverycompetitive.”
“Oh that has becomeglaringlyobvious,” he replies, chuckling to himself. He puts his hand to his chin and looks me over, then makes a humming sound. “The winner plans the next date. Whatever they want.”
“You’re assuming there will be another date,” I retort.
“Are you assuming there won’t be?”
