Ghost Bird Fanfiction: Sang's Lyric, The Story of Sang Sorenson's Mother

Bobble Head

"Wait," Kell corrected, balancing the helmet on the bike. He took off his jacket and held it out to me. I looked at it confused.

"I don't want you to get road rash; this is in case I ditch the bike," he told me seriously.

I swallowed hard. "Could that happen?"

He smiled at me, his white teeth showing briefly. "No way, I wouldn't take any risks with your beautiful skin."

I couldn't stop the snort and clapped my hand over my face. Kell threw his head back and laughed.

Argh. Even his laugh is attractive, I thought.

He held the jacket out and I slipped my arms into it. He turned me around and zipped it all the way up to my neck. He only had on his button-down shirt. Without his jacket, I could see how broad his shoulders were. He unbuttoned the cuffs of his sleeves and rolled them up, revealing dark, muscular forearms.

"What about your skin?" I asked.

"Scars are sexy," he said. "Right?"

What was he doing to me?

I nodded, blushing, but couldn't answer because I was afraid of uttering something completely dorky. Until I realized I'd just told him I thought he was sexy, which was worse.

I tried not to blush as Kell turned away to get the helmet and then fit it to my head. His fingers lifted my chin and tightened the strap, and he flipped the visor down. He got on the bike and using his heel, lifted up the kickstand before starting it. His jeans were tight against his thighs and I could see his shirt stretched across his back. 

Oh holy cow. 

I stood next to the bike, feeling awkward, and waited for him to direct me.

Kell held his hand out, and I took it, lifting my leg and swinging it over the bike. I expected Kell to release my arm, but he pulled it around his waist before reaching back and grabbing my other arm and wrapping that around him as well.

I was pressed tightly to his back and he took off. I gripped tighter, pressing my front against his back. He went slowly as he drove out of the parking lot, but as soon as he turned onto the main road, he opened it up. I gasped and then laughed,  my stomach racing to catch up with the rest of my body. I closed my eyes and let cool wind whip across my body. The breeze brought with it Kell's pine and smoke smell, like he had been outside burning leaves or building a house, or some other manly activity that made me tingle.

He drove through the center of town and then east, toward the ocean. Soon I could smell the salty air and he was pulling up a brick drive toward a clapboard and shingled house. It was a Georgian Colonial, all multipaned windows and wavy glass, with blue shutters and a blue door. It had an attached four car garage and, I craned my neck, yup, a boat parked next to it.

Kell braced his legs on either side of the bike and helped me off. My legs felt rubbery after the ride and it took a minute to get my balance.

"I feel like a bobblehead," I said in a muffled voice as he climbed off after me. I pretended to be guided by my head and made a big circle with my upper body.

"You look like Dark Helmet from Spaceballs," he told me, as my frozen fingers attempted to unlatch the chin strap.

"I don't know that movie," I told him as I pulled it off of my head and tossed my hair over my shoulder.

He stared at me for a moment. "What?" I asked him, "Is it a really popular movie or something?"

He shook his head. "No," he replied, "it's not that..."