Ednor Scardens (Charm City Chronicles), Volume One

Chapter 41 - Nice Ride

The bulk of the remaining days of vacation were spent studying for end-of-semester exams that would start as soon as we returned to class. Michael came over to help me through any remaining issues with algebra. On New Year's Eve, we went over to his house for a change, and watched a movie - a romantic comedy of some sort. We were in the finished basement on a leather sofa that squeaked every time we moved. He was in an exceptionally juvenile mood and reveled in making it squeak at the most inappropriate parts of the movie, until I was doubled over laughing. His mom must have heard us and called down the steps,

"Michael, I'm going to get dressed and go over to the Andersons' New Year's party for a couple of hours. Is there anything you two need before I go?"

Michael moved his eyebrows up and down and called out, "No thanks, mom. We'll be fine."

I hadn't counted on being alone with him in his house for any length of time and my expression telegraphed that this might not be a good idea. He knew exactly what I was thinking and smiled playfully. We watched the rest of the movie, minus the squeaking, until the front door closed upstairs and his mom left. He grabbed my hand, pulling me up from the sofa.

"Come on, I want to show you something."

Whatever it was, he was genuinely excited. He grabbed both of our coats and herded me outside toward the freestanding garage behind his house.

"Are you ready?" he asked.

"Yeah, I guess. But ready for what?"

"Want to see what I got for Christmas?"

He already had a car, so I didn't know why his present would be in the garage.

"Sure." I laughed at his impatience as he undid the lock and heaved one of the double doors open. He yanked my arm, pulling me inside with a huge grin to show me whatever it was that was making him so crazily happy.

My jaw dropped when I saw it: a dark blue Vespa motor scooter. I laughed and shook my head. Who gets a Vespa for Christmas in this universe? Apparently, Michael did. He swung his leg over the seat and kicked the engine alive, patting the seat behind him for me to get on. Reaching back, he grabbed my hands and wrapped them around his waist.

"Hold on tight, now. Put your feet right here and don't let go."

He maneuvered it slowly out of the garage and down the driveway, turning onto the street.

"I mean it, Kate. Hold on."

With a jerk, we started down the street, but not too fast as the narrow neighborhood streets were filled with stop signs and parked cars. After a few turns, we were on the undulating road that led to the reservoir. Once past the solitary traffic light, he twisted the handle, running out the gears as we picked up speed. I'd never ridden anything other than a bicycle and was unprepared for the blast of mid-winter air. My hands locked over each other in a death grip around his waist and my face pressed against his back while my hair whipped at the edges of the eddy that his body created.

When I recovered from the initial shock of the cold, I sat up a bit straighter, but not loosening my grip around him. I closed my eyes and let my head drop back, tasting the sensation of flying. It was impossible to communicate over the combined noise of the engine and the wind. He knew I wouldn't last long in the cold, so he turned around after a few more minutes and we flew home.

Pulling into the garage, he killed the engine and helped me get off the scooter. Intoxicated by the sensation and the speed, he could see that, except for the cold, I'd liked it very much too.

"Let's get you inside so you can thaw out," he laughed.

I welcomed the warm air as we entered the house. Standing by the fireplace, we leaned against each other, holding our hands as close to the flames as we dared. Once we could move our fingers again, he looked at me sideways.