Then You Look At Me |COMPLETED|

Strides & Bike Rides

"I stopped by the café to drop your bicycle off. You didn't take it this morning and it's kind of a long walk from the café to home." His eyes drift to me, his lips stretching in a smile. "Hey, Rain."

"Hey." I wave at him.

"Oh thanks, but we don't mind walking. We are almost there anyway. I am going by Rainey's to get a project done."

Alex raises a brow, a cheeky expression on his face. "A project? I see."

What's with everyone and their smut?

"But at least just take the bike, I am going by Drake's and I have some stuff I'm gonna need the trunk for."

Ansel narrows his eyes. "You're going by Drake? You better be careful, Alex."

I watch how his face hardens at his brother and my curiosity piques once again. What's so 'dangerous' about this 'Drake'?

"Yeah, yeah I will be Ansel." Alex rolls his eyes, as his brother moves around to the back and pulls the trunk up.

"So, Rainey, where's Riley?" Alex smirks.

"At home or school, I should suppose." I offer a small smile.

Well, he sure likes her. Who wouldn't? Riley is crazy fun.

Ansel closes the trunk, then comes around to set his bike on the cemented sidewalk.

"You need to stop driving Alaric's car without his permission too," Ansel warns.

So, the car isn't Alex's?

"He isn't home now, he's on some 'mission' with Aiden. Not every day I get the chance to ride this Chevrolet Chevelle. Let a brother live, brother."

Ansel shakes his head while Alex shifts in his seat and adjusts the handbrake.

"I'll see you guys. Enjoy your little 'project'" He waggles his brows before stepping on his gas and speeding away.

"So, I guess we can get to your place a lot faster now."

Ansel smiles at me while rolling up the sleeves of his dress shirt. He squats down to adjust his bicycle's pedals while I take in the sight of him.

I can honestly say that I am learning a lot about Ansel today. He has a part-time job; he makes awesome coffee and he can ride a bike. Not much information but I am grateful regardless.

His tattoo peeks up from the bunch of his sleeve and I squint my eyes in efforts of identifying what is drawn there. He stands up, dusting his palms together and his sleeve pulls down over the inked art, interrupting my speculation.

"Do you know how to ride one of these?"

I shake my head. "Not at all."

When all the other kids grew up riding bicycles, I grew up sitting in the backseat of an expensive car. I have always wanted to know what it feels like to ride one.

"Really?" He feigns shock. "I thought you were the type to get around riding and stuff."

"Well, aren't you being stereotypical," I smile softly.