Mastering Your Heart

Chapter 5

While we drove down the street, my hands pressed against Kyle's incredibly soft sweater, clearly feeling his belt buckle beneath the thin fabric. It struck me that my hands were too low. Too dangerously close to an area I had no business being near. At the next stop sign I slid them gently up.

Kyle sucked in an abrupt breath, his diaphragm retracting his abs. Once pulled in, they remained taut. I wondered if they'd been like this on the ride to the restaurant and I just wasn't able to feel them through his jacket. Or was this tension the result of our horrible date?

If I just spread my fingers out, I knew I'd be able to make out each bump and groove defining his abdomen. My own stomach grew tighter at the idea.

What are you thinking?

Kyle didn't like me, and he wouldn't invite my touch. I'd never want to violate anyone that way. It was something I'd had too much experience with, and the fact that I'd even contemplated the idea for a millisecond made me feel even more sick about tonight.

Traffic sped by ceaselessly in front of us. There was no valid reason I should even have been touching him while we waited motionless. I began to remove my hands from his body, but Kyle's left hand jerked off the handlebar, up onto mine. He pressed them back against him. His thumb swiped slowly back and forth over the top of of my hands.

What is he thinking?

Finally an opening came. Kyle placed both hands back on the bike, and with a quick rev took off. Without his hand on mine, something strange twisted inside of me. Suddenly I felt off-kilter. Maybe it was vertigo. Maybe it was the tequila. The only thing I knew for certain was that I was losing my grip, and I don't mean just on Kyle's physical form.

While my hands were certainly struggling to hold on at that point, my fear sprung from more than the idea of falling off and getting road rash, or even if being run over by a car and dying.

No. It was bigger than that.

I didn't feel like myself around Kyle. Everything inside of me was being untethered. I'd worked so hard to pack away the bad things in my life into different boxes. I had tied them securely with the prettiest ribbons I could find, with double knots, to keep them contained. But being around him made me afraid that the world I'd worked so hard to put together for myself over the years might unravel.

So in a sense, my life was in danger.  Just not in the typical way you'd think of on the back of a motorcycle.

Suddenly I couldn't breathe in the stupid helmet. It smelled faintly like someone else's perfume. Which I hadn't noticed earlier, but was now giving me a headache.

The moment Kyle pulled up to my place, I catapulted myself off his bike and yanked the helmet off. The world grew intolerably loud, but gulping the colder air felt good.

Kyle cut the engine and took off his own helmet, which he hung on the handlebar before dismounting. "You okay?" he asked while watching my chest heave.

I thrust the offensive helmet at him. "Fine."

He accepted it with a frown. "If you say so."

I nodded, thinking that I had said so because there was no other choice for me. When you don't have any real family to speak of, you roll with the punches. I had no soft place to land if I screwed up.  Of course there was Mama B, but she always had a houseful of kids who needed her desperately. So I had to be more than fine. I had to be as close to perfect as humanly possible.

But what I said was, "Of course I'm fine. I only had one drink. I'm not that much of a lightweight that I'd be drunk from one margarita."

He narrowed his eyes and released a huff of air, then turned to lock the passenger helmet in place.

Kyle's jacket suddenly seemed to weigh fifty pounds. I peeled the dead weight off of my shoulders. Sweat broke out on my temples and along the nape of my neck. I swayed on my feet just as Kyle turned back around.

"Whoa! You don't look so hot? You're sure you're okay?" he asked, stepping forward and reached a hand out toward me.

I recoiled, still swaying slightly. "I don't need your help." The words came out through gritted teeth, sounding way harsher than I meant them too. Another reason to be angry with myself for this catastrophic experiment.

Kyle's brow pulled down and his lips became a tight line. He lifted his hands up like he was surrendering. "Got it." His arms dropped back to his sides.

"Thank you for dinner." My stomach lurched on that last word as I turned on my heels to hurry up to the front door.

After unlocking the deadbolt, I looked over my shoulder to see Kyle still standing there under the streetlight. Jacket on. Hands in pockets. Legs at ease.

"I'm fine," I said, more for myself than to him.

Then I stepped inside and shut the door.