Page 9 of Straight to Me

I wait by the front door and peek through the blinds anxiously until I hear the low, throaty grumbles approaching. I see him pull up and kick out the bike stand.

Opening the door, I shout my goodbyes to Bex and I slam it shut before she can make it down the stairs. She’ll be annoyed, but I’ll explain it to her later. I dash away from the house and realise I don’t want him to think I’m desperately running to him, so I slow my pace just a little.

He looks up and a smile forms on those lush lips that I wish were on me.Jesus.It’s been less than twelve hours since I last saw him, but it feels like I’m seeing him for the first time all over again. I need to pull myself together, fast.

I catch the meaty hum that VP’s Harley Davidson’s making. It’s something to do with the plug firing sequencing, so my uncle tells me. It’s distinctive and iconic.

I’m not sure of the make of his bike, but it’s my favourite colour; jet black. It’s slim, sleek, and he looks sexy as hell in a black shirt, jeans and boots, sitting on top of it. “Hi,” I say, licking my now dry lips.

He nods his chin up but the smile has faded. I suddenly feel embarrassed by the x at the end of my message.

“VP, I didn’t mean to put a kiss on the end of my text,” I say trying to explain myself. “It’s a force of habit.”

“VP,” he repeats, smiling happily to himself as he opens the side box attached to the bike, “I like it.” He hands me the same helmet from last night.

He may like me calling him VP, but I’ve embarrassed myself, sending my heart into overdrive. We’ve only just met and I’ve already stepped over the line.

Overthinking and panicking about my blunder, my skin feels hot and I can’t think of anything else to say as I pop the helmet on my head, slipping my sunglasses on my face. I grab the corner of the Ripper cut and hoick myself up and over to sit on the seat. My muscles spasm as my legs rest against the side of the bike, making me wince.

He must spot the expression on my face because he asks, “You good?”

“My legs hurt,” I moan, rubbing my calves.

“You’ll get used to it.”

Will I?

Is he suggesting this won’t be the last time I ride on the back of his bike? As if reading my expression, he smiles again, slightly shaking his head.

We ride through town and out the other side, passing a massive police presence, presumably for the body they found last night. Squeezing him tight as he takes the exit onto the dual carriageway, I know the speed’s going to increase from here.

Frightened at my proximity to the tarmac, I clench my fists and shut my eyes tight. Concentrating on his smell and forcing calming breaths, I try to tell myself that I’m safe with him. I feel the tension start to relax. Thankfully, after only one junction, we come off the fast road and merge onto a quieter one. My grip relaxes on his cut. At this speed, there won’t be any nipple surfing taking place.

I’m sure we’re not that far from Bex’s, but I don’t immediately recognise my surroundings. I feel my heart wobble, wondering what on earth is going on here. As we weave on the side roads towards the trees, I reflect on the past ten hours. I conclude that I’ve acted like an idiot and I’m somewhat ashamed that I have lusted after someone who I know nothing about. I know he’s from Lancashire and in an outlaw motorcycle club, but that’s all. If anything is to come out of today, it must be more information about this mysterious biker.

The engine purrs and pops as he slows the machine down, pulling onto a gravel track. Clearly there are other bike tracks on the ground. My guess is more tracks equals more outlaws. Pictures of huge swarms of men dressed in leather, surrounded by large breasted women, drinking beers and acting like menaces, flood my brain.

As we approach the parking area, a large clearing with tall trees surrounding it comes into view. It looks stunning as the sun’s rays start breaking through the trees. I spot three or four erected gazebos lined with pretty coloured bunting and a sign reading, ‘The Forgotten Tribe MC Charity BBQ’. There are people carrying picnic baskets and children running around playing together. This is nothing like what I imagined we’d be doing today.

Reversing in to join the breath-taking row of docked bikes, I can’t help but feel in awe at the spectacle. Clearly all the men here take great pride in their machines; each bike telling a different story about its rider.

It reminds me of old western movies that I loved watching with my dad, where the cowboys used to leave their horses tacked up outside the saloon. There’s something endearing about it.

I dismount the bike and place my helmet on the vacated seat, waiting for VP. He places his bruised hand at the small of my back and walks us towards the crowd.

“What is this?” I ask uncertain.

“It’s an MC charity BBQ,” he says, pointing at the massive sign. I eye roll him with a smile. So he’s playful. I like it.

“And why have you broughtmehere?”

“Maybe I wanted to get to know you better? Plus, I needed to make sure you didn’t start any fights or hurt yourself today,” he says, taking my hand in his. I didn’t expect the contact, my hand flinches at his touch.

The heat I felt last night starts coursing through my veins again, making me fluster. I’m unsure where to look. “Why do you care so much?” I ask.

He stops abruptly, pulling me back towards him. Facing each other, our fronts are almost touching, the tip of my nose is in line with his collar bone. His Adam’s apple jumps up and down as he strokes my cheek with his fingers. His lips part as he moves his mouth to my ear. My body’s natural reaction is to crane my neck and expose the sensitive skin there to him.

“There’s something about you Mads. I dunno what it is,” he says in a hushed voice just for me to hear.

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