When we reached the house, he got off of the bike first, but this time he kicked down the kickstand. I awkwardly slid down from the back of the bike to the part he was sitting because of to the sloping seat. Instead of walking towards the overcrowded house, he took a step forward and lifted me off of the bike and placed me on the floor. His hands clutched my waist, a familiar feeling due to the kiss earlier. I felt my face go warm at the memory and I swatted his hands away.
“Don’t touch me,” I snapped as I ripped his helmet off of my head and slammed it into his chest.
He laughed as I stormed away. “You’re blushing.”
“Am not!” I called back.
I heard his faint reply. “Are too!”
When I stepped into the house, I realized two things:
1.) Shane was dancing with a bottle blonde
2.) I
