Besides being known for riding a Harley-Davidson motorcycle, Easton rarely let anyone ride with him. So when he handed me a black helmet and pointed at the seat behind him, I felt a strange flutter in my stomach before climbing onto the bike.
I had told Easton to take me straight home. At first, I thought he actually would, but my hopes faded when the motorcycle stopped on a random street and he shut off the engine.
“Where are we?” I asked tiredly. “I told you to take me home.”
All I wanted to do was cry, sleep, and then cry a little more.
“About that, I think you forgot one small detail.” He looked at me and shrugged. “I don’t know where you live.”
“Oh…” Right. “It’s fine. You can leave me here. I’ll walk.”
“What?”
I took off the helmet and climbed off the motorcycle. I wanted to b
