Signs blurred as they sped through the Old City, pale strips of faded neon. Every time they stopped it would be just long enough for another thin film of sweat to form on her arms. Sometimes she would let her forehead bump against the back of Tim’s helmet.

Boop.

Then the chills would roll up her arms and catch in her throat when he took off again. Like a lover blowing on her ear, the evaporating sweat and the rumble of the bike’s engine made her tingle. She tightened her arms around his chest. He knew what that meant. The tachometer jumped, he dropped a gear. She let go of her head, relaxed the tension that kept out everyone else’s thoughts. They blurred together like the signs. When they were moving fast enough it was a rush of white noise. And in the flowing river was one island of silence. The focus inside that helmet, the calm concentration on the road. She stood on that island and let the rapids wash around her.

She crumpled the front of his jacket, fingers curled into the mesh as they made a sharp swerve around a low hanging branch, darted between cars and shot up the ramp onto Interstate 85. The noise of the city’s thoughts faded behind them, replaced by a low hum of the people in cars.

Twelve miles to the border; the bike was screaming; about six minutes.

Scrunched down behind his helmet, her back arched to get that low, she hid her face from the wind. Her feet rocked on the pegs. She made sure her boot heels were tight against them then slipped one hand down and pushed herself a couple inches back on the seat so she could lean herself forward by just a critical few degrees. Her hand snaked back around and gripped his chest.

Two minutes.

Their wake sucked the paint off of a Principality cruiser that was outside the border for some reason. She felt Tim start to panic.

No.

She wrapped herself around his thoughts, smoothed the edges, pushed him back to the road. Just drive.

One minute.

She held him like a python, choked everything except the road ahead out of his brain until her own thoughts melted away. She clamped her thighs against his sides to keep them from shaking.

When the world faded back in the lights and siren of the cruiser crashed into her consciousness. Tim dipped the motorcycle off the exit ramp. She held out her left hand and pointed at the concrete barrier as they passed. The officer didn’t make the turn, the car clipped the barrier and spun off the ramp.

They whipped around a few blocks to make sure there weren’t any other cars on the prowl, then Tim pulled down into a loading dock for one of the retail aggregates.

For several seconds she leaned against his back, not quite confident enough in her legs to stand.

He would always ask why she never wanted to learn how to ride on her own.

Permalink »