Blinded by Perfection

41- Revealing His True Self

Chapter 41 |Revealing His True Self

You guys are going to hate me after this XD Anyway [>:)] qotc is what kind of pet(s) do you have?
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It's not hard to sneak outside after that. Since everyone is either at lunch or still in their classrooms, there's no one to rat us out. Granted, there might be cameras recording our every move, but they're a waste of money for the school if you ask me. I don't think the footage has ever been touched.

I start to head over to the school parking lot, but Chance's hand reaches out to pull me the opposite direction, towards the bike rack. Confused and curious, I obediently trail along.

The vehicle of transportation is different than I expect it to be to say the least. Sitting next to the bike rack in all it's glory is a motorcycle, and by the looks of it, expensive. It's a gleaming, sparkly dark forest green, and it seems so shiny that when angled towards the sunlight the right way, it creates a flash of light. On the back hangs a black helmet, which is dull compared to the beauty of a motorcycle.

"You like it?" He inquires modestly.

I give him a look of disbelief, my gaze drifting between him and the motorcycle. "Yeah! Are we going to ride it all the way to your house?"

Most girls would freak at the sight of a vehicle this dangerous, but if you can't already tell, I I feel like a little kid on Christmas who's going to burst with impatience if she doesn't open her gift right now. Call me crazy, but I'm elated I might be able to ride my first motorcycle, and with my first boyfriend of all people.

"Well it's not just here for show," he chuckles. Afterwards, he motions with a glide of his hand for me to get on. "C'mon hottie, let's get on before we get caught by someone."

I slowly roll on over towards it, using the tips of my fingertips to feel its smooth surface. The metal feels hot to the touch, so I quickly reel my hand back. I feel Chances hands on my waist, ready to hoist me up and onto the seat, but he let's me go as I shake my head no. Just because I've never been on one and lack experience doesn't mean I lack common sense. It can't be that hard to get on anyway. It's just a bike.

Afraid to hurt it's beauty when I get on, I swing my leg upwards with care, being cautious not to clumsily bump into something. It takes all of the concentration I can muster but I manage to get myself securely up and situated in half of a minute.

"Good job," he compliments before getting on himself. His moves are a great deal swifter than mine, for he moves skillfully and with practice. I refrain from glaring at his back with jealousy.

He suddenly reaches over me, and I have to duck to avoid his hand. When he retracts it, he holds the helmet in his hands. "Wanna wear it?" He asks, offering it to me like a gentlemen

"What about you? I don't want to take your helmet."

"I don't need it. Here, take it," he insists, pushing it into my arms.

I'm about to hand it back to him and demand he be the one that wear it, but a small voice in the back of my head tells me to listen. After all, my life is one hundred percent in his hands. No pressure.

As I put it on, he goes over ground rules. They're pretty simple, things I won't mess up and that are common sense. We also establish a signal if I need something, which is a double tap on his stomach.

Once everything's established, with a kick of his shoe he undoes the kickstand. The bike wobbles for a moment as he regains control, which I respond to by tightly enclosing him in my arms.

"Hold on tight," he roars over the engine. I don't bother raising my own voice to answer, but instead squeeze his mid section to signal I'm doing as he asked. Once he's sure I'm stable, we jolt forward as he presses the gas.