I wrote a thing. I promise if you've seen me post this multiple times, I'm sorry this is the last time because now I got my shit together and know what her freaking name is
“Come outside,” he hangs up too quickly for me to respond. I place the scrub brush in the sink before rushing to the nearest window overlooking our driveway. I climb onto the leather booth and pressed my nose to the glass, he’s waiting outside propped up against his motorcycle. “Alex, do you know who’s in the driveway?” My dad shouts from his office.
“Yes dad,” I reply. “I’m going out for a while okay?”
“Alright, when will you be home?”
“I don’t know but I’ll have my phone. Call me if you need anything.”
“Okay, have fun.” I run outside and a huge smile crosses his face before he throws his arms around me in a warm hug.
“I almost thought you weren’t going to come out.” I could feel the vibrations from his voice through his chest tickle my ear. I backed up a couple of steps so I could look at him while I talked.
“I had to at least tell my dad I was leaving you know? I can’t just disappear for hours and not tell anyone.” I grabbed the spare helmet off the back of the bike and gently slid it over my head.
“You’re eighteen do you really need to get permission from daddy dearest?” He teased before grabbing the chin straps from my fumbling fingers and securing them for me.
“As long as I still live under his roof, yes I do need to get daddy’s permission. Just be thankful my mom isn’t home right now or she would come out here and drill you on when I was coming home and all that jazz. And my younger brother may come out and interrogate you as well, if he were here that is.” I swung my leg over the back of the bike and waited for him to join me. I had ridden lots of different motor vehicles before but the closest thing to a motorcycle was a dirt bike. How different could the two really be?
“Well I would love to actually meet your family sometime,” he slid his helmet on and got on the bike in front of me.
“So where are we going?” I ask as he starts up the motor and he lifts the kick stand.
“Wherever my bike takes us,” he revved the engine a couple times then yelled back at me, “Hold on!” He pulled hard on the throttle and I screamed, wrapping my arms around his waist as we tore out of my driveway. He propelled down the road at 40 miles per hour which both worried me and thrilled me. “You know, this road is only 25?”
“Oh really?” He shouts back, “Well let me fix that.” He pulls down on the throttle more coaxing the bike up to sixty and my heart begins racing. For a moment I think that I just got on a motorcycle with a complete mad man but the wind and the freedom quickly change my shrieks to giggles. Maybe what I really need is someone who is a little mad.