Total pages in book: 164
Estimated words: 152853 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 764(@200wpm)___ 611(@250wpm)___ 510(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 152853 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 764(@200wpm)___ 611(@250wpm)___ 510(@300wpm)
“No?” But she’s laughing, which I’ll take as a good sign.
Her arms tighten when we start off. I expected that and can handle it, so long as she doesn’t squeeze the shit out of me for the entire ride. “Relax!” I call out, raising my voice so she can hear me over the engine growling beneath us. “Enjoy it.”
Slowly, her grip loosens while I steer us off the block, past Main Street, and onto a rarely used road running along the outskirts of town. It borders the old industrial complex, meaning there’s not much traffic running along it anymore. That could change once the new development is complete, but there’s a lot of ground to cover before that happens.
I figured she’d feel better if we weren’t surrounded by other vehicles, and my instincts were on point since she actually laughs. “You okay?” I call out.
“Yeah! This is so cool!” I don’t think I’ve ever heard her so completely enthused over anything. At least, I can’t recall the last time her voice was so light and bright, so free of the cynicism that’s become her trademark over the years.
She thinks this is cool? She has no idea.
“Oh... oh, my God... Romero!” She ends on a shriek and my laughter carries on the wind now that we are flying down the road. I can't remember the last time I felt this free—and something tells me she feels the same, since she can't stop laughing and whooping with joy while the wind hits our faces and the world passes in a blur. Now I wish we were on a road trip, with days of this ahead of us.
Instead, muscle memory takes me to the one place I could be alone when I needed it most. My refuge. My escape from the hell my home could be, especially on mornings when I came downstairs to find the first floor littered with beer bottles and overflowing ashtrays. That was when I could count on ugliness on the horizon, which is when I would haul ass to the lake only fifteen minutes from the neighborhood. It might as well have existed in a different world during those difficult, often violent days. Back then, I didn’t have the words to express what it meant to escape here, and I doubt I could bring myself to express it now. The reminder that somewhere not far away there existed peace. Serenity.
“It's beautiful!” There's a genuine wonder in her voice, ringing out loud and clear now that we've slowed down so I can navigate the trails winding through thick woods. The scent of pine needles and moist earth brings a flood of memories to the forefront of my mind. The foliage is turning red, orange, gold, and even I'm left breathless when we enter the clearing leading down to the shore of the lake. The trees lining the banks are a riot of color as far as the eye can see, highlighted by midafternoon sunlight. It's like something out of a postcard, something almost painfully perfect that leaves a lump in my throat. I was a different person the last time I came here.
“That was amazing! Oh, my God, how did you go so long without doing that?” As soon as I've put the kickstand in place, she practically jumps to the ground and yanks off her helmet. Her eyes sparkle like the water behind her, her cheeks flushing pink from the cool air and her excitement. She has never looked so exquisite.
“I guess I forgot how much I like it,” I confess after removing my helmet. “It's a rush, isn't it?”
She bounces on the balls of her feet, sputtering like she’s searching for the words to express herself. “I never imagined feeling… that… free! Once I got used to it, it was like flying. Can you teach me to ride?”
Red flags wave wildly in my head at the thought. “One thing at a time.”
“Please, don't give me some sob story about how my dad would kill you if anything happened to me.”
“You know damn well that's exactly what would happen.” She's too happy to roll her eyes or make a smart-ass comment, so instead she walks to the water’s edge and stands with her hands in her pockets, gazing out over the sparkling ripples until the rapid rise-and-fall of her thin shoulders slows down. I can't decide if she looks lonely, determined, or pensive. I don't know if she wants to be left alone the way I did back when I would come here. I wish there was a user manual when it comes to this girl. I wish it didn't always feel like I was making the wrong move.
I join her, yet give her space, and eventually begin walking away once I catch her attention. She follows, and I glance over my shoulder to find her picking up smooth, polished rocks and turning them over in her hands. “Isn't it amazing?” she murmurs, and at first, I'm not sure if she's talking to herself or to me. “The water seems so gentle. It does here, anyway. It's practically still. But these little stones and rocks get smoothed out over time.”