Biker X Bookgirl - Short Story

Reilly

Reilly, Reilly Last, that’s my name. I’m escaping the sound of Elvis Presley singing “Love Me Tender” on my parents’/grandparents’ loudspeaker. They really crank up the volume due to their hearing woes, and I can’t focus on my novel.

I call them ‘parents/grandparents’ because they adopted me when I was twelve and they were already in their sixties.

Lately, it’s dawned on me that they’ve inadvertently moulded me into a relic of the past. Perhaps that’s why I’ve never quite fit in or made friends. It’s been just me and my books, a constant companionship since the day I was adopted.

Don’t get me wrong; I love the books but they, plus my old-fashioned upbringing, have made me socially inept for this generation. High school, no friends College, same story. Now I’m in my gap year... and I’m at a complete loss. Like a leaf in the breeze. I know should sit down and think about the rest of my life, my future. But I’d rather hide away in the perfect lives in between the pages of my books.

My mom/grandma, in her gentle easygoing manner, says I can take all the time I need to decide what to do.

On this night I am headed to what has become my sanctuary during this gap year... The steps of my apartment building. Where I have spent my gap year reading and getting some ‘me time’.

If only I could be like the heroines of my books; gorgeous and fiery but here I am; literally sitting meekly alone, draped in an oversized jersey to camouflage my lack of a figure. My body is more of a box shape than an hourglass. I’m overweight and fate was not kind, all my weight went to the wrong places, especially on my thighs. I don’t know why I decided to wear this short skirt. Trying this body positivity sh*t. I regret it.

But this is where today has been a little weird. All day I’ve noticed a biker guy leaning against his motorcycle, his gaze fixed on me. I regret wearing this short skirt but thankfully I have my oversized jersey so that I don’t embarrass myself further with my flabby arms and generous waistline. He’s still here even at this late hour, his eyes trained on me, watching me. How long has he been there?

He’s not attracted to me. So why the intense scrutiny?

He starts to walk towards me, I inhale sharply. I read way too many books and my imagination is running wild with scenarios of what book I’m in. Where the morally grey man likes the absolute dork.

He steps closer I can see his rugged features, his tattoos peaking out from under the neckline of his t-shirt. I try to imagine what’s inked on his skin.

As I was lost in my head he managed to walk up to me. I finally come to my senses when I smell his minty breath laced with a hint of whiskey. He’s dangerously close.. I lean back my eyes widening.

“Don’t worry Angel Face,” he drawls with a deep confident tone.

Wait did he just call me Angel Face?

“I don’t bite... unless you want me to.” a smirk tugs at his lips, and I don’t believe my ears.

He chuckles obviously at my flabbergasted expression. “I need directions to the local gas satiation.” his voice, a rich baritone, sends shivers down my spine, “I just rode into town. Was hopping you could show me to the gas station,” he repeats and I realize I’ve been staring blankly at him. I clear my throat and fruitlessly try to pull my skirt over my huge thighs.

“I... Yes, It’s that way.” I point to the left and I shiver as he lets out a low deep chuckle that rumbles in his chest.

“Mind showing me the way?” he says already taking my hand and my palms start to sweat. I stand up next to him and quickly withdraw my hand from his before he feels how nervous I am.

I walk with him in deep silence as he wheels his motorcycle along. My inner voice screams at me, ‘What are you doing walking with a stranger, a biker no less!’ Yet I keep walking with him as if my body is following some kind of... desire unknown to me.

“So, what was a pretty thing like you doing reading out at this hour?” he cuts off my inner voice’s nagging. “Anything could happen at this hour.”

“No kidding,” I groused sarcastically, realizing for the umpteenth time that I’m walking away from my nice warm bed and book for a potentially dangerous encounter.

He smirks while looking ahead but as I look up at him I can tell he’s smirking at me. We continue to walk and I start wishing the petrol station would be good enough to meet us halfway and then I could go back to reading about things instead of doing them.

“What book were you reading?” he looks down at me and I realize just how much taller he is. Must be over six feet tall, I’m five-foot-six and he feels over six inches taller than me. He stops and I am made aware that I’m just staring at him.

“Um...” I clear my throat looking down at my feet as the insecurities of my body bombard my mind. I continue walking and I hear him begin to walk behind me.

“Seems like you read a lot...” he continues and I wonder if this guy likes talking to himself because I’m not talking back anytime soon. “But it doesn’t seem like you’ve done a lot.” he stops looming over me. I look up at him, his blue eyes shining even on this night.

“Umm...” it seems like that’s all I can say tonight.

“Tell me have you ever read about something you’ve been dying to try?” he steps closer and instinctively I step back. He leans in and though my heart is racing I maintain eye contact, only because of the intensity in his eyes.

“Tell me what’s going on in that pretty little head of yours.” he whispers and my cheeks flush. He smirks seeing my blush and he leans back and continues wheeling his motorcycle along.

I take a moment to breathe and for my short stocky legs to stop shaking before I follow after him continuing as his guide. I’m not used to being that close to anyone. At least anyone my age, internally rolling my eyes.

“I was reading Sense and Sensibility,” I say starting the conversation before he can speak with that immobilizing, deep husky voice of his. Plus trying to pretend that moment back there didn’t happen.

“Sounds sensible,” he teases and I frown,

“Oh, well we can’t all be reckless bikers. Riding the open road not caring where they go, even though they leave town not bothering to check if they have enough petrol.” I preached walking ahead of him. “The world revolves around us sensible people,” I say as we reach the station.

He silently starts pouring the petrol into his motorcycle tank and pays for his fuel and I beam thinking even though I’m a fat socially inept young woman I managed to make a big tough biker speechless.

“Sounds like you’re just crying out for some reckless excitement.” he whips his head around and smirks. His jet black hair falls low almost into his eyes.

My jaw drops, He’s completely unaffected by my words!

“Look you don’t have to be all bitter,” he boasts pulling his leather jacket closer,

“Bitter? I’m not bitter. I don’t want your life.” I cross my arms over my chest and look away trying to convince myself I’m better than him when in fact I’m probably more of a drifter than he is.

He chuckles and I feel like punching that handsome face of his but I can see someone has already beaten me to the punch, literately. I notice he has a broken nose that healed with a large bump making the bridge of his nose crooked. I realize I’m staring again and I look away quickly before he can see my blush.

“Okay, no need to get all defensive,” he mocks, “I was just gonna offer you a very interesting job...” he says with a smooth voice trying to tempt me.

I narrow my eyes at him, my head filling with horrible scenarios of what this offer could be.

“Whoa whoa,” he steps closer and holds my face, “Stop those dirty thoughts. What kind of offer are you thinking?” he lets me go and steps back, “I was gonna ask you to be my backpack."

“Backpack?” I tilt my head in confusion feeling like this might just be something innocent.

“Yeah, backpack. You ride on the back of my sweet motorcycle.” he pats his bike smiling like he’s looking at his baby.

“Oh,” I immediately let out a long breath emptying my lungs as I empty my mind of the crazy scenarios.

“What were you thinking I’d say?” he chuckles as he mounts his bike.

“I was...” I clear my throat.

“What kind of books are you reading?” he raises a teasing eyebrow and I blush.

I look away trying to forget this ever happened, ready to go back to my life, my book.

My boring life of avoiding my future, of reading stories I could never live out.

Sigh

“Com’ on, backpack. Don’t keep me waiting.” he says holding out his hand, “I don’t like waiting, Angel face.”

Is he for real? Like, he wants me riding behind him? My head swirls with questions and insecurities imagining what would happen when he sees me up close or worse feels my thick flabby thighs touching him.

I visibly cringe.

“Come on, I’m not that bad,” he sneers playfully.

“Oh, no, I didn’t mean you,” I say instinctively stepping closer.

He quickly takes my hand, “Good, then you can be my backpack.” he pulls me closer and helps me mount his motorcycle behind him.

Next thing I know I’m in the back seat of his motorcycle and he hands me a helmet.

“Wait... okay, just for tonight... I’ll be your backpack. But don’t go too far.” I mumbled with uncertainty but I couldn’t deny the thrill that building inside me.

“Relax, Angel face, I’m not gonna do anything,” he chuckles. “Just move closer and hold on.” his voice comes out calming and reassuring, but there’s no reassurance he can give me. No way I’m moving closer.

I place my hands on the sides gripping the motorcycle tightly, and shake my head, even though he has his back to me. “I’m very comfortable right here.”

“Damn it, stop being so sensible.” he pulls my arms to wrap around his waist but I quickly tear them out of his grasp.

“You know it is the sensible thing, to hold on.” he states and I can hear the irritation in his voice. “Wouldn’t want you falling off and bruising that soft, beautiful skin.” he looks at me over his shoulder smirking.

I glare at him not liking the fake compliments, “No thank you,” I say firmly.

“Suit yourself,” he shrugs and revs up the engine. I hold the sides until my knuckles turn white as I hold my breath.

The motorcycle jumps forward and I let out a small squeak as I crash forward into him. He chuckles and pulls my arms around his waist and I know he did that on purpose.

I huff and hold him tightly feeling the excitement of being this close but also feeling so self-conscious as my flabby thighs brush against him.

“Relax Angel face, and enjoy the ride.” he croons as he revs the engine and speeds off into the night.

I let out a small scream as adrenaline courses through me.

“Angel face, keep it down. People are gonna think I’m kidnapping you or something.” he says half joking.

Wasn’t he kidnapping me?

This all happened so fast... surely it wasn’t me Reilly Last who was on a motorcycle with a total stranger.

I don’t even know his name!

What have I gotten myself into?