7
876 Words
I needed the road more than I needed air.
The second the last light clicked off downstairs I grabbed my cut, the keys, and the helmet. I didn’t bother with a jacket.
The night air off the harbor was cold enough to bite, and I wanted it that way. Anything to cool the heat still sitting in my chest from earlier.
The Harley came alive under me with a low, hungry growl. I rolled out of the alley, past the quiet restaurant windows, and pointed the bike toward the coast highway. Once the town lights fell behind me I opened the throttle.
The wind hit hard. It ripped at my shirt and roared past my ears. I leaned into the curves, faster than was smart, letting the speed push everything else out of my head. The greasy customer’s face. The way Lily had looked when that hand landed on her. The way my own hands had wanted to do more than just throw the guy out the door.
And the way she had looked at me afterward. Like she saw straight through the roommate act.
I rode until the road climbed higher along the cliffs. At the usual overlook I pulled off, killed the engine, and sat there with the kickstand down. The ocean stretched black and endless below. Waves crashed against the rocks in a steady rhythm that usually calmed me. Tonight it did nothing.
I pulled out my phone.
The screen lit up my face. For a long minute I just stared at the empty message window with Lily’s name at the top. Then my thumbs moved.
I can’t keep pretending we’re just friends.
I read the words back. They looked too honest sitting there in the dark, I added another line.
Tonight when that guy touched you I wanted to break his arm. And then I wanted to kiss you so you would forget anyone else had ever put a hand on you. I think about it all the time. Your mouth. The way you look when you’re tired. The way the apartment smells like you. I’m losing my mind living across the hall from you and acting like it’s nothing.
My thumb hovered over the send button.
Three full minutes passed. The wind tugged at my clothes. A car drove past on the highway behind me, headlights sweeping the overlook for a second before disappearing.
I deleted every word.
I stared at the blank screen a little longer, then locked the phone and shoved it back in my pocket. The heat in my chest hadn’t gone anywhere. If anything it felt worse.
I started the bike again and took the long way home, slower this time. By the time I rolled into the alley it was past three in the morning. The building was dark except for the soft glow of the lamp we always left on in the living room.
I climbed the stairs as quietly as I could. I stepped inside and stopped.
Lily was asleep on the couch.
She was curled on her side, one of my old flannel shirts wrapped around her like a blanket. The sleeves were too long and covered her hands. Her hair had come loose from its knot and spilled across the cushion. One bare foot hung off the edge of the couch. She looked smaller like this. Softer. The inventory sheets she had been working on were scattered on the coffee table and the floor.
I stood there longer than I should have.
I set my helmet down without a sound, shrugged off the cut, and walked over. There was a folded blanket on the back of the armchair. I shook it out and laid it over her carefully, tucking it around her shoulders. She shifted but didn’t wake.
A loose strand of hair had fallen across her cheek. I reached down and brushed it back with the side of my finger. Her skin was warm. She made a small sound in her sleep and turned her face toward my hand.
I froze.
It would have been so easy. Lean down. Press my mouth to her forehead. Let myself have three seconds of something real before the morning came and we both went back to pretending.
My heart hammered against my ribs.
I pulled my hand away.
Coward, I told myself. You’re a damn coward.
I backed up, turned, and walked to my room. The door clicked shut behind me with a soft sound that still felt too loud. I sat on the edge of the bed in the dark, elbows on my knees, and stared at the floor.
Down the hall Lily was sleeping in my shirt on our couch. The words I had typed and deleted still burned in my mind. The taste of almost still sat on my tongue.
I dragged a hand down my face and lay back on the mattress without bothering to take off my boots. Sleep felt a long way off. Outside the window the first thin light of morning was still hours away, and the only thing I could hear was the quiet sound of her breathing through the walls.
I closed my eyes and tried not to want what I wasn’t allowed to have.
- Writer
