A Bedtime Story

My very first ENG 217 assignment, as promised.

Note, the names have not been changed, on the grounds that it seems kind of pointless.

***
“He’s going to kiss you” Natalie remarked for what felt like the hundredth time that night.

“No he’s not” I answered, making sure to turn away from her as I said it so she would not see the grin on my face. I so badly wanted him to kiss me, but I did not want Natalie to know that in case it didn’t happen. I looked into the mirror again to check my makeup and hair, wondering as I did so if my outfit was motorcycle appropriate. Having never been on one, I wasn’t sure. I had opted for jeans and converse, which felt right, but my top was red with flowers, extremely girly and ruffled. It was my favorite shirt, and I needed something special for the occasion. Even my mom remarked how cute I looked as I left the house, surprised that I had dressed so carefully to spend a night with the girls. I just shrugged and ducked out of the house as quickly as possible, hoping to ward of suspicion. I was a terrible liar. My long straight blonde hair was down around my shoulders, sleek and shiny, which was something else that did not seem to mesh with my planned activity for the night. But I liked this boy and I looked best with my hair down. The choice was obvious.

“What time is he coming?” she asked, glancing casually at the clock. I knew she was almost as apprehensive about this as I was, but I felt like we were both doing a pretty good job of hiding it. I looked over at the clock. The blaring red numbers read 10:45. My stomach did a small flip.

“15 minutes.”

“You know,” she said, “I’m not really sure if my parents will love the idea of you getting picked up by some guy on a motorcycle at 11 o’clock at night.”

“He’s not some guy” was my reply. But I knew she was right. The chance of her parents saying something to mine was way too big to risk. “It’s cool though, I’ll tell him to meet me on the corner.” I picked up my phone to send the text.

“Well I’m not sure how I feel about letting you get picked up on the corner by some guy on a motorcycle! What if you get hurt? What if your mom finds out?” The uneasiness we had both been experiencing all night finally started to emerge. Thankfully she waited until after it was too late to change my mind.

“Don’t say on the corner like I’m a prostitute!” I answer as I attempted to keep myself from thinking about her objections. I knew she was fulfilling her duty as my best friend by issuing the standard warnings and I did not have any good responses to her valid questions. I could get hurt; I knew for a fact that he had crashed his bike before. With a girl on the back, no less! And I just about died inside when I thought about my mom finding out. I had no idea what would happen, as I spent my entire adolescence being the “good girl” who never snuck out of the house or did something her parents told her not to do. But here I was, the beginning of my senior year, ready to be a little rebellious. All I knew for a fact was that my father had been in a bad motorcycle crash when he was younger, and when I nonchalantly suggested to my mom that I take a ride on Eric’s bike her answer was a firm and unyielding “No!”

At five till eleven I quietly crept down Natalie’s stairs and made my way to the corner of her street. The dark of the night gave me chills, despite the warm September air. It was quiet. I stopped under the streetlight and listened for the distant sound of a roaring motorcycle. I heard nothing; so I waited. As the minutes ticked by my excited nerves turned to dread. What if he didn’t show up? The thought killed me. Slowly, I sat down and rested my head on my knees, wondering for the first time if I was in over my head. I glanced back at Natalie’s house where her bedroom light was off but I knew she was also straining to hear the sounds of Eric’s bike. Getting stood up was simply not an option. He had to show.

After an agonizing five minutes my phone mercifully buzzed.

Sorry I’m late. Had to stop for gas. I’ll be there soon.

My heart leapt. And then it started drumming faster and faster. Unsure of what to do with myself, I stood up. But that felt awkward. I sat back down and scuffed my shoes against the pavement. When I finally heard the sounds of his bike a smile so big my face hurt appeared out of nowhere. It was the sound of excitement, of freedom, of rebellion, and of danger. All of these feelings were largely unfamiliar to me and what I considered my sheltered life. In that moment, I was completely sure of my decision. I looked down and wiped the smile away, wary of letting him know how excited I was.

He rounded the corner and pulled to a stop right in front of me. I looked up at him as he climbed off the bike and pulled his helmet off. My initial reaction was that he looked different in his non-work attire. I had only ever seen him in a white shirt and tie. My second reaction was that he looked tall. And cute. I smiled again, no longer making an attempt to hold it back.

We exchanged slightly awkward hellos.

“You didn’t bring a jacket like I told you too!” he said.

“I forgot.” I lied. In reality, I was afraid that a jacket in September would tip my mom off that something unusual was going on. No one needs a jacket when it is still 85 degrees outside. “I’ll be fine.”

He chuckled to himself. “If you say so. But if you need mine let me know.”

“Will do.” I did not plan on needing it. After all, it was warm enough outside that I was questioning my choice to wear jeans, let alone a jacket.

Eric tossed me my helmet which I held uneasily in my hands and began to explain the bike: where I would be sitting, where I would put my feet, and a host of other information that I never even processed. When he looked back up at me expectantly I plopped the helmet on my head, hyper aware that it most likely lowered me a few notches on the attractiveness scale I know boys are so fond of. I felt like if I had been a 6 before, the helmet lowered me to a 4.

“You know, if I get hurt, my mom will kill you. And then she’ll fire you.”

“She’ll fire both of us” he said laughing as he walked over to my side and helped me with the straps on the helmet. I looked up so he could see them more easily and found myself staring directly into his face, mere inches away. My stomach danced uncontrollably. When he finished we made eye contact for a fraction of a second and then stepped back. He quickly hopped on the bike and motioned for me to follow.

“Where do I hold on?” I was pretty sure I already knew the answer, but I wanted to hear him say it.

“You hold on to me!” He grinned at me and I returned the favor, approaching the bike confidently as the sound of my heart threatened to wake the neighbors. I swung my leg over the bike and as I did so my stomach did one final flip and my palms clammed up. I put them around his stomach and shut my eyes in a dramatic fashion.

“You ready?” He called as he kicked the bike to life.

I was.

***
P.S. Posting this feels a little too indulgent. Please smack me upside the head if it was.