Page 32 of Dear Pink

“Oh.” The news kicks me in the stomach. I stand, and she puts her small hand on my arm. I swear I tingle from her touch.

“I don’t mean you. I meant whoever.”

“Who were you expecting?”

“I didn’t want some jerk hitting on me. Oh, wait, you’re not a jerk. I mean . . .” Silence reigns again.

“I get it.” I watch her shoulders untighten. “Want me to fix your bike, Pink?”

“Yes, please. I have no idea what a tube is, and I don’t have any of the tools listed on the video either. I’m unprepared for this situation.”

“It’s okay,” I say and unzip my tool bag under my bike seat. “I can teach you how. It’s super easy.” I grab my extra tube and start uncoiling it.

She laughs. “Wow, how do you fit everything in such a tiny pouch? I guess I need one of those bag things.”

“I bet they come in pink too.” She blushes a vivid red. Did I say the wrong thing again?

“I’m Hannah,” she says in a rush with her hand outstretched.

I stare at her hand like it’s on fire. This girl has me tied up in knots.

“You called me Pink,” she explains, her hand still out. “I’m Hannah, though I don’t hate Pink.”

I gesture to her outfit and her bike. “I’m glad, cause I adore it.” She gives me a shy smile. I reach out to shake her hand. “Nice to officially meet you, Hannah. I’m Gabe.”

“Gabe?” Her voice rises a few octaves.

“Uh, yeah?”

“Gabe, as in you left me a note on my car, Gabe? Now I get it. That was you.”

“That was me.”

We stand there staring at one another, matching grins on our faces. I grasp the tube in my hands tighter and remember her tire. “Okay, right. This is a tube.”

While I fix her bike, I explain the various details in changing a flat, inserting a new tube, inflating her tire, and checking that the rim isn’t damaged. When we finish, she hands me a Tootsie Roll from her pocket and pops one in her mouth. We sit and chew for a few minutes. The silence overwhelms me, so I ask, “Did you start biking recently?”

“Yes. Well, no. I can obviously ride a bike.”

I laugh, remembering how I first met her rolling backward down a hill.

She laughs too. “I guess it’s not obvious. The point is that I’m serious about biking this go-round.”

“That’s great. I remember when I bought my first road-bike. I didn’t understand how anything worked. I rode in the same three gears for months. What made you decide to take the plunge?”

“It’s a long story.” She snatches another Tootsie Roll out of her pocket and motions to me. I shake my head.

“How do you feel about dinner?” I ask her. Shit. Did I say that? What did I just do? Is she even interested in me?

“I like dinner.” She grins at me and the tingle returns. “I eat dinner.”

What is this woman doing to me? “How about dinner with me?”

She shakes her head no.

“No?” Well, that answers my question. She isn’t interested. I’m sixteen again.

She abruptly changes the direction of her head. “I mean, yes. Yes, I’d like dinner.” She pauses for a second, smiling. “With you.”

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