Bound to Burn

12. When I Move, You Move

12

WHEN I MOVE, YOU MOVE

CASH

Movement by Hozier

The tension between us is my fault. It’s been a few days since she left with Gabriel and she’s been quiet since, not her usual snarky self. I should have kept my mouth shut, except I couldn’t. She doesn’t know Gabriel like I do. She doesn’t know how he changed when his brother was killed in an accidental shooting on this very block.

The blame Gabriel carries is rotting him from the inside out. There are pieces of him left, but the sixteen year old I used to know who would stop by after school before heading over to the thrift store to help out his uncle, is gone. He was smart, still is, and had a future. He was going to be the first one in his family to go to college, but that was all before that day. He’s not a bad kid, but he has a chip on his shoulder and that makes his judgement flawed.

I pass by Sasha at the counter, her laptop open as she edits some photos and I can see some of the pictures she took of Gabriel displayed in her editing app.

“What are you going to do with those?” I ask.

She startles from my voice and her ponytail swings against her back. “I don’t know yet.” She places her finger to her lips, thinking, and I watch more closely than I should. “Maybe I can use them for my final project at school.”

“I thought school hasn’t started yet.” I get nervous thinking about summer being over when I won’t see her anymore.

“It hasn’t, but the class I registered for is a capstone project where I get to showcase my photography,” she explains excitedly.

I look over her shoulder at some of the photos. I always knew Gabriel was talented, especially judging by the wing he did on the side of my building, but these are really extraordinary. He’s only gotten better over the years.

“Fascinating,” I breathe out as she flips through the photos until she gets to the ones where Gabriel is shirtless. She can’t see as I narrow my eyes at the photos, but maybe she can feel me physically bristle because she turns her head slightly to look at me.

I check the clock on the wall and see it’s nearly four. She said she had to leave early today for a party, and I remember her mentioning it’s for her grandparents’ anniversary.

“Why don’t you go ahead and take off?”

She looks at the clock and hurries to shut down her laptop. “Shoot. I didn’t realize what time it was.” She starts to pack up her things, placing them in a bag, along with her camera.

“I added everything that needs to be reordered for you to double check,” she reminds me on her way to the door, because I’ve asked her to help out with inventory.

“Sasha?” I stop her and she slowly turns to look at me. “I’m sorry about the other day. I was out of line, but-”

“It’s okay, really.” She hoists the bag further up on her shoulder.

I was expecting an argument, which has me wondering if something happened on her photo expedition.

“He told me about his brother,” she confirms.

I cast my eyes to hers and nod. “Did he tell you he saw it happen?”

Her expression confirms that he didn’t tell her everything. “Gabriel is a friend. It’s just,” I start to tell her but she cuts me off.

“I’m not interested in him,” she says, “not in that way.” The look between us is uncomfortable. I’m not sure how I’m supposed to respond. “So you can stop being protective, or…” she doesn’t finish her sentence. “Anyway, I’m gonna be late.”

She opens the door and I let her walk away, rubbing the back of my neck as I head over to the register to review the list of supplies she marked on the inventory tab in order to busy myself. I place my elbows on the counter and run my hands through my hair. If she wasn’t so young, or I wasn’t so… old, jaded, stubborn, heartbroken, maybe things would be different.

I always feel like I meet people at the wrong time; either they have already given their heart to someone else, or they were born too late. My internal clock is broken - along with my heart.

When I look out the window, I see Sasha’s Jeep is still in its spot. She should have left by now, but I can make out her figure still in the driver’s seat, leaning against the steering wheel. A moment later she gets out and pops the hood.

Shit.

I shut down the register and lock up before making my way to the parking lot, standing next to her at the front of the Jeep. “Need a ride?”

She sighs, blowing out a frustrated breath that causes the little pieces of hair framing her face to flutter.

“I’ll call a tow truck.”

“That’ll take too long. Let me give you a ride.” I slam the hood closed.

“I don’t want you to have to close the store just for me,” she protests, shaking her head with worried brown eyes.

“Already done.” I nod to the dark record store and walk over to my bike. There’s a helmet in the saddle bag that I dig out and hold out to her.

“Oh.” She looks at my bike apprehensively.

“What’s wrong?” I ask.

“I’ve never been on a motorcycle before.” She grips her camera bag and looks from me to the bike as if she’s assessing her options.

“All you gotta do is hold on,” I say, giving her a warm smile.

I shove the helmet at her and she reluctantly takes it from me, placing it on her head. I reach over to secure the chin strap, pulling it nice and tight; making sure the helmet is snug. When I look down at her, she’s staring at me with those soulful eyes, and I can’t help but swallow when she bites on her lip nervously.

I kick my leg over the seat and straighten the bike, waiting for her to get on, but she stands there looking at me skeptically.

“Get on.” I motion with the tilt of my chin and then push my sunglasses down.

My words break whatever trance she was in and I feel the change in weight as she positions herself behind me. Her hands grip my shoulders as she steadies her balance.

I motion to the foot pegs. “Put your feet there, but watch your legs on the pipe, it gets hot.”

She doesn’t seem to know what to do with her hands so I reach back and grab onto both, placing them at my waist. Her fingers burrow under my jacket and grip my shirt.

When I kick the bike into gear, I feel her fingers gather my shirt into her hands. I lean back against her, feeling the heat from her body, and turn my head so she can hear me. “Just remember, when I move, you move.”

She nods.

“Where do you live?” I ask as I pull out of the parking lot and onto the street.

“Pacific Palisades.” Her voice vibrates close to my ear, making the hairs on my neck stand up.

Pacific Palisades? I never would have pegged her for a rich chick, especially not with that piece of s**t Jeep she drives.

I take Ocean Avenue because there’s more traffic, and it’ll give her a chance to get used to the bike before we hit the canyon. The ocean comes into view with its rich shades of aqua and dark blues that are broken up by white caps crashing into the sand. The cliffs in the distance are dotted with large homes, each with spectacular views. Every time we stop, I feel her fingers relax a bit until I change gears, causing her to gather my shirt up again.

When we turn onto Temescal Canyon, the bike leans with the sharp turn, but she moves with it just like I told her to. As the traffic thins and the road narrows, I smoothly shift into 4th gear, feeling the cool air of the canyon wrap around me.

Her grip loosens, finally relaxing enough to explore my midsection with her fingers, testing the limits. They skim under my shirt, dancing across the soft skin of my stomach. I suck in a breath, trying to control my body from reacting to her touch. Each finger leaves a trail of heat in their wake. My stomach tightens, and I shift the bike into 5th gear eliciting an excited squeal from Sasha.

Large estates come into view, secured behind long driveways and security gates. Sasha points for me to turn left and we take the road into the older part of Pacific Palisades. The houses become farther apart, with long stretches of green grass and white picket fences lining the road.

We take another turn into a heavily forested area, and she motions for me to take a dirt driveway that leads up to a modest mid-century ranch-style home. She motions for me to go around the side of the house, and as I do, a huge pasture with an old wooden fence comes into view. At the back of the property is a tall red barn with a work shed attached to it.

I pull up next to the fence, shut the bike off and push the kickstand down with my foot, resting the weight of the bike on it. When I get off, I hold my hand out to help Sasha. She takes the helmet off, shaking out her blonde hair that’s come undone from her bun, and I’m transfixed by the sight of her.

She stands there looking at me, the helmet the only barrier between us. I should be taking in the beautiful view of her property, but I can’t seem to take my eyes off her.

“That wasn’t so bad, was it?” I ask, breaking the silence.

She hands me the helmet. “Boys and their bikes.” She shakes her head, the snark coming back, and for once I’m glad for it.

I look down at her a little darkly and say, “I’m not a boy.”

She peers up at me, her eyes anything but innocent, and foolishly I wonder if she tastes the same way she smells.

Like peppermint.

Those pouty lips of hers pull at the corners into a smirk. “Thanks for the ride.”

Before I can respond, a truck pulls into the driveway.

“Oh, just in time.” She leaves me and jogs over to the men as they begin to pull out tables and chairs. She instructs them to start setting them up on the patio behind the house.

I should leave.

I should get on my bike and hightail it back down to Santa Monica, but I can’t seem to get my feet to move unless it’s in the same direction as her. There’s nothing waiting for me except an empty shop, a dark loft, and an old bass that mocks me from the corner of my bedroom.

It looks like she still has a lot left to set up before the party, so I follow her into the house.

“Do you need help?” The words come out before I can stop myself.

“I couldn’t ask you to do that.” She turns to face me, her brows knitted together.

“I really don’t mind. Besides, I already closed up the shop for the night.”

She contemplates my offer. “I’d really like the help, but you know what I would like more?”

I’m afraid to ask and I don’t trust my voice, so I nod instead.

“For you to stay and enjoy the party.”