Well Fuck

Part 5: Wow

Before I could even say anything, he walks up to me. I'm eye-level with his collar bone that is mostly blocked by his jacket. He takes a hold of my bag that is starting to slide off my shoulder and he slings it over his.
He gives a nodding motion with his head to tell me to follow him. I do.

"How was your day?"

God, he's even a gentleman.

"M-mine was good, thanks. How was yours?"

"It was confusing, this place is sort of odd compared to mine back at home."

"Where's that? If you don't mind me asking."

"Detroit."

"Wow, that's pretty far!"

"Yeah, but it was a nice ride."

He's parked only a couple cars away. I had almost forgot his dramatic entrance on his Harley earlier. Oh god, how is this going to go?
He shrugs off my bag and puts it in one of the side compartments on the bike.

"Where did you get the Harley?"

"Saved up for it myself."

"It's Nice!"

"Thanks!"

He puts on his helmet, flips up the visor, strattles the bike, and turns over the engine. He's a natural.

"Hop on."

I hesitate before I slowly make my way behind him. I step on the metal petal and frantically think of a place to put my hands.
He reaches behind and grabs my hand, pulling me onto the ice-cold seat. I shiver.

"God, your hands are freezing! here..."

He hands me a pair of gloves. I yell over the rumbling of the engine:

"Thanks!"

"Sorry, I don't have an extra helmet!"

"That's ok!"

I slip on the gloves that are two times my size. Then I take notice to the position we are in. I see the patches that strech towards the back of his sleeves. One from Michigan, one from New York, one from Minnesota. Wow, he's definitely traveled! No wonder coming here from Michigan wasn't a problem for him.
I still had the dilemma of where to put my hands. I've only been on a motorcycle once, but I know you need to hold on to something.
He flips his visor back down and stars pushing out of the parking spot with his feet.
I quickly grab a hold of the sides of the seat.
He takes off down the parking lot with an unexpected jerk. I still keep by grip on the seat even with the big gloves, but he turns on to the main road and hits the gas; my hands loose their grip on the seat. Out of sheer panic, I fling my arms around his torso and hug his chest.
I feel his back shake with what I could only assume to be a chuckle.
This is crazy, this is crazy, this is crazy, holy shit!
I hear a muffled yell through his helmet:

"You ok?"

"Yeah!"

I unintentionally pull myself closer. The wind was turning my face into ice. I lower my head accidentally bumping into his broad back. Despite the cold leather, I could feel his inner warmth.
I adjust my hands and I can't help but notice his rock-hard chest.
What is going on? I'm just the weird, chubby, ginger who doesn't get any attention from guys. Yet, here I am clinging to a hot-ass biker!
He hasn't said anything the whole ride, I'm beginning to feel awkward.
I readjusted my hands again.
We come to a stop light, and he leans back a bit. Just as I was about to let go,
he takes his hand of the handle and puts it on top of mine. He rubs them a little.
I can feel the heat melt my cheeks.
He attempts to look back and huffs a muffled laugh.

"You're hands getting warmer?"

I nod in embarrassment. The light turns green and we take off again. I tighten my my hug-like position.
Then we come to another stop; we're in front of my building.