Life After Taylah
Page 11
I frown. “Easily?”
He laughs and leans against the bike, crossing his arms. “I don’t know, Dancer, I think you’d be able to flip one of these babies effortlessly.”
I smile. “You’re being far too kind. These legs couldn’t flip that.”
He lets his gaze go down to my legs, which has me squirming and feeling a little uncomfortable. “I beg to differ.”
I clear my throat and stare around at the other bikes. “It’s nice out here. Do you race at home a lot?”
He shrugs. “I go away nearly as much, but a majority of my races are here.”
I smile nervously, unsure what it is I’m feeling right now. I’ve never felt so at ease speaking to someone. For a second there I forgot myself.
“So, you up for a ride?”
I snap my eyes to him and put my hands up, waving them around. “No, oh no.”
“Come on, I’ll go slow.”
“You’re Nathaniel Alexander.”
He grins, big and broad. “I swear it.”
I’m still shaking my head when he takes a helmet from a neighboring bike and hands it to me.
“No way,” I say, stepping back.
“Little Dancer is afraid.”
“I’m not afraid,” I cry, putting my hands on my hips. “I just . . .”
“Scaredy cat,” he taunts.
I take the helmet from him, sticking my tongue out and pulling it over my head. When it’s on, I do a twirl. “Well?”
“Sexy.” He chuckles.
He throws his helmet on and lifts his leg over the bike, kicking up the stand. When it roars to life, the rumbling travels right through my body. I hesitate, staring at the back seat, knowing that Jacob would not be happy with me if I get on this bike. I don’t get a chance to think about that any longer, because Nate takes my arm and pulls me towards the bike.
“Leg over, Dancer.”
I put a shaky leg over and wrap my arms around his waist. He leans back and turns to me. “Hold on.”
He doesn’t let me answer; instead, the bike lurches forward. With a scream, my fingers tighten in Nate’s top. He laughs wildly and soon I find myself laughing just as loudly. I’ve not laughed like this since before the day Momma left, and the sound seems foreign, but I can’t stop it. The exhilarating feeling I’m experiencing as we soar madly around the track is something I can’t even begin to explain.
It’s like I’m free.
All of a sudden, all the pain and emotion trapped in my heart is allowed out for a mere few moments. I don’t feel the ache in my chest, I don’t feel hurt or sorrow; I just feel freedom. I scream loudly with joy and I put my hand in the air. Nate spins around a corner, flicking dirt up and over us but I don’t care. I hold onto him, close my eyes and breathe it in. I can’t remember the last time I felt so at ease. I’m just me today, just Avery. I’m not broken Avie, or the sister who can’t help, or the daughter who is forgotten, or the wounded soul . . . I’m just Avery.
By the time Nate stops, my heart is beating excitedly and I can’t wipe the smile off my face. He gets off the bike and pulls his helmet off before reaching over and taking mine. He instantly grins when he sees my smile.
“You look real nice when you smile like that, Dancer,” he says. “It’s the first real smile I’ve seen you give.”
I feel my smile wobble at his compliment and I look away with a flush. “I had fun.”
“I’m sure my ears know that.” He chuckles, helping me off the bike.
“I’m sorry.” I laugh. “I couldn’t help the screaming.”
He shrugs, crossing his arms over his chest and studying me. “No problem. Maybe we can do it again sometime?”
I stare at him, wanting to look away, not wanting to admire how utterly beautiful he is, but it’s hard. He’s the kind of man you struggle to look away from, struggle to say no to. He’s got this beauty that goes far deeper than his looks. I smile because I know I’ve found a friend in Nate; maybe not a best friend, maybe not even a friend I’ll see often, but a friend all the same.
“Maybe we can,” I finally say, flashing him a soft smile.
His eyes crinkle and even though his smile isn’t big, his expression tells me that makes him happy.
“I gotta get home, but give me your number. I’ll call you next time I’m out on the bike and you can come out. Maybe I’ll teach you how to ride.”
I feel my heart pound at that. I’ve never done anything other than dance; I’ve never even thought of anything else. The feeling I had on that bike, though, it gave me an outlet I’ve never had with dancing. And I always thought dancing kept me breathing. I give Nate my number and he punches it into his phone before looking up and giving me a wink.
“Later, Dancer.”
I grin.
“Later, Nate.”
CHAPTER 4
NATE
I unlock the front door, shoving it open. I step in and I can hear a faint clattering sound in the kitchen. Maybe Lena is finally doing the washing up—God knows she leaves it so fucking long, the plates grow food on food—it’s about time she pulled her ass off the couch and did something. I kick my boots off and throw my jacket down, and then I walk into the living area.
The television is on, but Macy isn’t watching it. A noisy cartoon blares around the space. I turn and walk into the kitchen and what I see has my entire body stiffening. My little girl, my tiny three-year-old has a stool at the kitchen sink and has her hands in the water that’s overflowing onto the floor. Her hair is bouncing behind her and she’s singing a song I can’t understand.
He laughs and leans against the bike, crossing his arms. “I don’t know, Dancer, I think you’d be able to flip one of these babies effortlessly.”
I smile. “You’re being far too kind. These legs couldn’t flip that.”
He lets his gaze go down to my legs, which has me squirming and feeling a little uncomfortable. “I beg to differ.”
I clear my throat and stare around at the other bikes. “It’s nice out here. Do you race at home a lot?”
He shrugs. “I go away nearly as much, but a majority of my races are here.”
I smile nervously, unsure what it is I’m feeling right now. I’ve never felt so at ease speaking to someone. For a second there I forgot myself.
“So, you up for a ride?”
I snap my eyes to him and put my hands up, waving them around. “No, oh no.”
“Come on, I’ll go slow.”
“You’re Nathaniel Alexander.”
He grins, big and broad. “I swear it.”
I’m still shaking my head when he takes a helmet from a neighboring bike and hands it to me.
“No way,” I say, stepping back.
“Little Dancer is afraid.”
“I’m not afraid,” I cry, putting my hands on my hips. “I just . . .”
“Scaredy cat,” he taunts.
I take the helmet from him, sticking my tongue out and pulling it over my head. When it’s on, I do a twirl. “Well?”
“Sexy.” He chuckles.
He throws his helmet on and lifts his leg over the bike, kicking up the stand. When it roars to life, the rumbling travels right through my body. I hesitate, staring at the back seat, knowing that Jacob would not be happy with me if I get on this bike. I don’t get a chance to think about that any longer, because Nate takes my arm and pulls me towards the bike.
“Leg over, Dancer.”
I put a shaky leg over and wrap my arms around his waist. He leans back and turns to me. “Hold on.”
He doesn’t let me answer; instead, the bike lurches forward. With a scream, my fingers tighten in Nate’s top. He laughs wildly and soon I find myself laughing just as loudly. I’ve not laughed like this since before the day Momma left, and the sound seems foreign, but I can’t stop it. The exhilarating feeling I’m experiencing as we soar madly around the track is something I can’t even begin to explain.
It’s like I’m free.
All of a sudden, all the pain and emotion trapped in my heart is allowed out for a mere few moments. I don’t feel the ache in my chest, I don’t feel hurt or sorrow; I just feel freedom. I scream loudly with joy and I put my hand in the air. Nate spins around a corner, flicking dirt up and over us but I don’t care. I hold onto him, close my eyes and breathe it in. I can’t remember the last time I felt so at ease. I’m just me today, just Avery. I’m not broken Avie, or the sister who can’t help, or the daughter who is forgotten, or the wounded soul . . . I’m just Avery.
By the time Nate stops, my heart is beating excitedly and I can’t wipe the smile off my face. He gets off the bike and pulls his helmet off before reaching over and taking mine. He instantly grins when he sees my smile.
“You look real nice when you smile like that, Dancer,” he says. “It’s the first real smile I’ve seen you give.”
I feel my smile wobble at his compliment and I look away with a flush. “I had fun.”
“I’m sure my ears know that.” He chuckles, helping me off the bike.
“I’m sorry.” I laugh. “I couldn’t help the screaming.”
He shrugs, crossing his arms over his chest and studying me. “No problem. Maybe we can do it again sometime?”
I stare at him, wanting to look away, not wanting to admire how utterly beautiful he is, but it’s hard. He’s the kind of man you struggle to look away from, struggle to say no to. He’s got this beauty that goes far deeper than his looks. I smile because I know I’ve found a friend in Nate; maybe not a best friend, maybe not even a friend I’ll see often, but a friend all the same.
“Maybe we can,” I finally say, flashing him a soft smile.
His eyes crinkle and even though his smile isn’t big, his expression tells me that makes him happy.
“I gotta get home, but give me your number. I’ll call you next time I’m out on the bike and you can come out. Maybe I’ll teach you how to ride.”
I feel my heart pound at that. I’ve never done anything other than dance; I’ve never even thought of anything else. The feeling I had on that bike, though, it gave me an outlet I’ve never had with dancing. And I always thought dancing kept me breathing. I give Nate my number and he punches it into his phone before looking up and giving me a wink.
“Later, Dancer.”
I grin.
“Later, Nate.”
CHAPTER 4
NATE
I unlock the front door, shoving it open. I step in and I can hear a faint clattering sound in the kitchen. Maybe Lena is finally doing the washing up—God knows she leaves it so fucking long, the plates grow food on food—it’s about time she pulled her ass off the couch and did something. I kick my boots off and throw my jacket down, and then I walk into the living area.
The television is on, but Macy isn’t watching it. A noisy cartoon blares around the space. I turn and walk into the kitchen and what I see has my entire body stiffening. My little girl, my tiny three-year-old has a stool at the kitchen sink and has her hands in the water that’s overflowing onto the floor. Her hair is bouncing behind her and she’s singing a song I can’t understand.
