See Her (Turn it Up #1)

Chapter 7

7

JACK

“ W here are we going?” she asks, as I place her helmet down on the seat and take her bag from her to stash it in the saddle bag.

“How about the Riverfront? There’s a nice stretch of road, and we could grab lunch or a beer somewhere.”

“Sounds like fun. Let’s do it.”

She’s excited. If she’s at all nervous, she doesn’t show it, and it’s amazing.Some chicks are scared of bikes. Not that I’ve taken any out on the Harley; Mayzie’s the first. I guess that makes this just as special for me as I was intending it to be for her.

She slips on her jacket and zips it up, and I have to say, this look on her is hot.She’s got a sexy duality of badass and girl-next-door going on. In two seconds, she went from looking soft and feminine in a white top with her hair down and loose, to hardcore and cute, as she ties her gorgeous hair back in a knot and reaches for the helmet I’m holding out to her. I throw mine back on and fasten it before hopping back on the bike. She climbs on, her knees just grazing either side of my waist. This is the most we’ve touched since shaking hands, and I have a feeling it’s going to be a fun, but painful ride .

“Alright, hold on to me,” I say to her, meaning it in more ways than one, as I start up the bike and it rumbles to life.

Mayzie

I love this. The loud puttering of the bike’s motor, the scenery whipping by us, the thrill of the speed, the… guy… between my legs… Okay, since you can see my mind going there, I’m just going to say that the vibrations of the Harley and the breeze blowing Jack’s scent on me is not boding well for my panties. I think tonight I might have to get reacquainted with my vibrator, Johnny Rocket.Anyway…

Besides all that, this is exciting and fun, and watching Jack operate this piece of machinery is yet another impressive thing about him.We make our way through town to start at the bottom of the Riverfront and work our way up it.When we get to the north end, we park the bike and start leisurely walking, stopping for a beer and fries at one point.

I’m enjoying myself and trying not to worry about where this is going, or at least not bring it up. I’ve seen it happen too many times where a girl asks that forbidden question and the guy freaks out, thinking she’s demanding commitment.I don’t know Jack well enough yet to know if he’d react like that.

All I know is that taking me for a ride on a motorcycle is definitely something no other guy has done with me before. It was fun and exhilarating, and in a strange way, intimate. It’s not something I’ll ever forget, whatever may happen.

Walking by the water, we pass the carousel and head down the sidewalk through the park to where it’s quieter.

“How was the rest of your weekend?” he asks attentively, tilting his head in my direction, and just the sweet tone of his voice makes my cheeks warm and my fingers itch to latch onto his. They are so close to touching as we walk side-by-side.

“It was okay,” I answer with nonchalance. “Took a dance class with Annie, that’s my best friend,” I wave a hand in explanation. “My brother came over to hang out with me Thursday night, but left me in the lurch for breakfast at our parents this morning.”

“Is your brother older or younger?” he asks.

“He’s a year older.”

“Any other siblings?”

“No, just him. How about you? Got any?”

“Yeah, two sisters, both older.The oldest one is married; the one closer to my age is just goofing off around the world.”

“Nothing wrong with that,” I say. “So your oldest sister is married; is she going to make an uncle out of you anytime soon?”

“They talk about it, yeah, so who knows? Maybe. Will you be an aunt anytime soon?”

“Doubtful. My brother isn’t married. He’s in an, uh, shall we say, intense relationship?

“Intense?”

“Okay, volatile. Total love-hate relationship with his live-in girlfriend,so yeah, the poor schmuck seeks refuge at my house sometimes.”

Jack lets out a soft chuckle, and I wish I could see his eyes through his aviators right now.

“Tell me more about you,” he probes, his voice light and interested. “So far, all I know is that you work from home, you dance, you read, and you have an older brother whose ass you love to bust on because the poor guy got sucked into some chick’s flytrap. Oh, and you drink enough sugar to put the whole town's supply on back order.”

“Come on, give me a break on that already!” I say, laughing.He ignores my protest.

“Come on, let’s have it. ”

“Well, what do you want to know?”

“Everything. We’ll start small. Favorite food?”

“Mac ‘n’ cheese. You?”

“Are you serious?” he asks, smiling, his eyebrows drawing together.

“Yes. Don’t judge me. Now what’s yours?”

“Steak. How old are you?”

“Twenty-four.” The words bubble up my throat, along with the light laughter at this fun, short-handed banter we’ve got going. “What about you?”

“Twenty-eight. Last name?”

“Walker. What’s yours?”

“Krasinski.”

“Bless you.”

“Very funny,” he says.

“Beer or wine?” I ask.

“Beer. But won’t necessarily say no to wine.”

“Me, too.”

“You prefer beer over wine?” he says, turning.

“Oh yeah.”

He steps back, clutching his chest at my response. “Where’ve you been all my life?”He chuckles and I shyly look away before he speaks again. “What would you take with you if you had to stay on a deserted island for a month?”

“My Kindle Fire.” And a vibrator .

“What, no sugar?”

“Shut up! Your turn.”

“Call me a cliché musician, but my guitar,” he says, shrugging.

“Are you kidding? It’s cool that you wouldn’t want to be without it for a month.” We go on like this for a long while. We walk around, learning more about each other. He tells me about growing up with two sisters and learning to play guitar when he was thirteen; about his friends that are in the band with him, and how they got together right after high school.They just got right down to it, writing songs and practicing anytime they didn’t have a job to be at.His best friend, Matt, plays bass, and they co-write a lot of the songs.They have recorded a demo, and the next goal they are hoping to attain is playing at The Black Fire, which is the top rated club in downtown Detroit.Getting to play in any other downtown club would be a huge stepping stone leading to that.

I tell him about how I tried college to appease my parents, but never really wanted to go and it really did not turn out to be the right path for me.How I started dance class when I was seven, and kept going with it all through my school years, even coming back to it after the college failure. I tell him how I could never stand regular ballet, but love modern ballet because there is less structure and poise, and more freedom to express yourself.And lastly, I tell him how my love of reading sparked my interest in writing.

“So does your dad still take your mom out on the bike?” I ask, as we adopt a lazy stride.

“No. Actually, my mom passed away a long time ago,” he says casually, looking out at the river.

“Oh, I’m sorry. How long is long?”

“Really long. I was four.”

“That sounds like a tough age to lose your mom.”

He shrugs. “You’d think, but I actually don’t remember it happening. It was a car accident. I think it was harder for my sisters.Sarah and Melanie were seven and six at the time, so they have more of a solid memory.”

“Do you remember her at all?”

“Yeah, a little, but only a few vague memories,” he answers. “Good ones, though. She was always smiling and playing with us.”

“Just enough to remember she was a good mom. That’s nice.” He simply nods, and I decide to change the subject. “So how was it, growing up with your sisters? Did they look out for you, or pick on you and boss you around? ”

He chuckles. “They weren’t too bad. There was the occasional attempted makeover, but my dad had my back and always put a stop to it.” I laugh out loud and hard at the visual, and he joins me. His laugh is heavy with warmth and endearment, and gives me that wonderful fuzzy feeling in my chest.

“I did that to Ian once,” I offer through my residual giggles.

“You’re shitting me,” he says, smiling disbelievingly.

“Seriously. It was only once, when he was sleeping,” I explain, rolling my eyes as I plead my case. “We’re only a year apart, but he was seriously bigger than I was, and he was always so rough when he picked on me. I wanted to get back at him but couldn’t do it physically, so I had to pull pranks.I think we were nine and ten, and one night I took my mom’s makeup bag into his room and gave him the works when he was out cold.”

“And how did he react when he woke up?” Jack asks, genuinely laughing at the story.

“He just woke up clueless, and when he came down to breakfast it was all smeared. My mom freaked out and asked why he screwed around with her makeup while I pretended not to have a clue what happened. In the end, I think it was just chalked up to him sleepwalking and experimenting with his drag side,” I conclude with a chuckle, but Jack is full-on laughing, the sound of it the same depth and warmth as before. I think I’m in love with it.

This day is just throwing one grenade after another at my barricade of defenses. Our shoulders brush briefly as we walk, the closeness giving me a small thrill that I fight to tamp down, afraid it will take over.I get quiet as we approach a lookout area, and walk up to lean against the rail to look out over the water. Spending time with him like this feels so good, but it’s so damn scary.I’ve felt this way before, more than once, and it’s always been a precursor to heartbreak.

Jack is standing out so far apart from all of those guys, though .

From his genuine introduction, to the Harley, to the fact that he has not laid a freaking hand on me, once.

Every guy that has duped me in the past was all over me within the first twenty-four hours, and I always fell for it because I liked the affection and feeling wanted. But Jack? Not a finger.

For the time being, I try to get out of my head and stop wondering if he’s a genuine gentleman that takes things slow, or if I’m kidding myself.