Page 44 of Like You Know
We hadn’t had that conversation yet, so I didn’t feel right calling him my boyfriend. But neither of us was seeing other people, and he wasn’t shy about holding my hand or kissing me at school, so whatever. Labels were so 2013.
Jet and I had lunch at Mena’s diner, and then I managed to talk him into teaching me how to ride a motorbike. Which was how I now found myself at school on a Saturday afternoon with my butt on the bike and my toes touching the ground on either side, trying my hardest not to fall before we even started.
I squeezed everything in an attempt to stay upright as my right leg started to jiggle from the strain. Jet’s hands were there, steadying me before I could even ask. Holding the handlebars and the back of the seat, he kept the massive thing under me stable, and I took a breath to release my tension.
“You good?” he asked, but I was too distracted by the muscles and veins popping out on his forearm, by all that tanned skin stretched over strong muscle. I wanted to feel his big hands gripping my thighs just like that.
“Amaya?” He leaned in close with a little smile. “You wanna learn how to do this or just keep eye-fucking my arms? Because you didn’t need to waste all that money bribing Trevor for that—we could’ve just gone to the gym.”
“Shut up.” I chuckled. “I can do both.”
“No, you can’t. You need to focus.”
“Yeah, yeah. OK, let me try the balance thing again.” I flapped my hands at him to back up, but he leaned in instead. With one smooth move, he swung his leg over the back and settled himself behind me.
“Let’s go over some basics first.” He placed my hands firmly on the handles and pointed to things as he explained. I didn’t know how he expected me to focus with his insanely hot body pressed up against mine and both his forearms doing their sexy dance right in front of my face.
Somehow, I managed though.
He ran through how to work the throttle, the brake, changing gears, and all the other knobs and levers—the basics of taking off and stopping. He had me repeat back to him all the functions of the controls, then he checked the helmet was on tightly, zipped his leather jacket up to my chin, and got off the back. I pressed my toes into the ground, making sure to keep the heavy machine upright.
“OK, start her up.” Jet crossed his arms, making his chest and biceps bulge. I swear he was doing it on purpose at this stage. I turned the little key, and the engine under me rumbled to life. I grinned, feeling accomplished already, even though I hadn’t even done anything yet.
“Now, you’re going to powerwalk it first, like I showed you. Then lift your feet when you feel balanced, and you’re going to go to the other end of the lot.” He pointed to the far side, where the grass sloped down toward the tennis courts. “And then you’re going to stop and plant your feet once more. Got it?”
“Got it.” I fixed my gaze on my target. Without waiting for any more instructions, or giving myself time to freak out, I revved the engine and slowly released the clutch. The motorbike lurched forward, and I screamed and jammed the brake on.
Jet was there instantly, grabbing the handlebars, balancing me, and fighting a laugh. I smacked him, but he gave me a few more tips and I tried again. And again, and again.
An hour later I was drenched in sweat under the heavy leather jacket, but I could take off, drive to the other side of the lot, and come to a stop. I couldn’t turn yet, but we decided to work on that some other time.
We sat in the shade of a tree and passed a bottle of water between us to cool down.
“You did great. I’m proud of you.” Jet slung an arm around my neck and planted a kiss on my temple.
I shoved him back. “Don’t! I’m all sweaty and gross!”
“I don’t care!” With a laugh, he jostled me onto my back in the grass, then rubbed his cheeks all over my face and hairline while I squirmed and screamed and laughed all at once.
When he finally relented, we just stared up at the canopy of the tree, our fingers tangling between us as we caught our breath.
“Thanks for teaching me how to ride a crotch rocket,” I said. “It was good to keep my mind occupied with something other than study.”
“Anytime,” he said. Then after a long pause: “Things still tense at your place? Have you spoken to your mom yet?”
“Yes, they are, and no, I haven’t.”
Mom had spent every day since my birthday trying to make up for forgetting my birthday. A new gift appeared in front of my door every morning, one of my favorite meals waited for me in the kitchen every night, and in between, she was pretty much love-bombing me. She called and texted all the time with apologies and compliments and declarations of love. All the gifts sat in the hallway outside my door unopened, all the meals went uneaten, and I hadn’t replied to a single message.
She and Cal were constantly home now too. She wasalwaysthere, trying to talk to me, trying to be a mother all of a sudden. I just pretended they didn’t exist. I could see it getting to her, the frustration building behind the niceties. It was only a matter of time before she blew up at me, and then shit would go back to normal.
“How long are you planning to freeze her out?” Jet asked. His tone was casual, but I knew he wanted me to make up with my mom. I’d shut him down hard the first and only time he’d tried to argue I should talk to her, but he kept nudging me on it. He knew everything that had happened. I wasn’t sure why he was so invested, but I had a feeling it had to do with his own absent parents.
“Well,shefrozemeout from the moment Dad died so ... like, seven years, give or take.” I shrugged and sat up.
He placed a gentle hand on my back. “I just hate seeing you hurting. That’s the only reason I want you to talk to her.”
I nodded but didn’t reply.