I’m not nervous.
At least, that’s what I keep telling myself as I step out onto the porch, acting as if my heart isn’t about to punch a hole through my ribs. I pull the jacket he has given tighter around me, my fingers twitching at my sides like they’re trying to find something to do. It’s just a ride. Just Jude. Just—
The motorcycle.
I freeze for half a second when I see it. The bike sits in the driveway, all sleek and dark, looking like something straight out of a movie—something dangerous and thrilling and probably a terrible idea. It definitely looks different and I know Jude has added more than just footpegs.
Or maybe I’m only just noticing it in full detail now.
Jude stands beside it, one hand resting on the handlebar, the other gripping an extra helmet. He looks unfairly good
