My Perfect Female Boss

115-116-117

It seemed that I shouldn't have fallen in love withher. 

When I was in a trance, the footsteps in the yardpulled me out of it. 

It was only then that I noticed that the cheeks ofWendy, just a short distance away, had turnedred. 

I seemed to have been looking at her for at leasta few seconds.

 My hand was still behind her ear, holding a strandof her long hair.

 "Tom, help me bring something to Youyin." Momyelled from the yard as she walked out.

I hurriedly tucked Wendy's hair and quicklybuttoned the buckle of her helmet. Then I walkedover to the motorbike and inserted the key. Ibreathed a sigh of relief.

 Wendy also seemed to be greatly relieved. 

Mom ran out of the yard with a bag, saying:"Bring the cucumber skin and diced papaya toYouyin. I remember he used to love both. I've gota copy for Wendy. You take it with you when yougo back to work." 

"There is something for me?" Wendy asked. Butshe dared not to face mom, as if she was afraid ofthat mom would see her blushing cheeks.

 "Yes, there is nothing special in our house, justsome pickles, which are not valuable. I don'tknow whether you like them or not."

 "I like them. I ate a lot just now. They are veryappetizing. Thank you, aunt."

"You're welcome. I'm happy that you like them.' 

"Let's go." I said. I took the bag and hung it to thehandlebar. Then I started the motorcycle andturned round in the open space at the gate.

 The diced papaya is our specialty, which is madeof shredded green papaya. The cucumber skin isnot made of the skin of green and thin cucumber,which we call green melon. We call the cucumberwith yellow skin as cucumber. After drying withsalt, it's the best pickle. 

Since junior high school, Youyin had often cometo my home and he's a close relationship withdad and mom. He likes the two pickles made bymy mom and my mom often asks me to bringsome to him.

 Although they were not valuable, Wendy seemedto like them after she ate them.

After I turned round the motorcycle, I pulled it upnext to Wendy.

 Wendy took hold of her long black dress and gotinto the motorcycle. She sat very far back, leaningback a little, as if afraid to touch my back.

 After saying goodbye to dad and mom, I drovealong the concrete paths that had paved yearsearlier. Soon we were on the national highway.

 I drove intently. Wendy didn't speak and sheseemed nervous.

 As she sat very far back, I said specially to lightenthe atmosphere: "Have you ever been on amotorcycle before?" 

"What?" Wendy said. She didn't hear clearly whatI said, probably because the wind's too loudwhen driving.

 I tilted my head back and said with a loudervoice: "Have you ever been on a motorcyclebefore?"

She leaned forward a little and said: "No, this ismy first time to be on a motorcycle. It's socomfortable blowing in the wind." 

"Can you sit forward a little? If you sit too farback, it's not easy to control the motorcycle." 

"OK." 

She moved forward a little and her legs touchedthe outside of my thigh lightly, and then shehurried back a little. Her upper body didn't touchme.