Rooming with the Wicked

40 | a little closer

The motorcycle was...large. But honestly, kind of cool looking—apart from the fact that it was a deathtrap on wheels anyway.

A slim red line ran along the inner rim of both wheels. Dual red stripes on the front ended at the gas tank and continued just behind the leather seat to the rear lights. Colored in the same red, a metal pipe went all the way from the bottom of the shiny silver exhaust straight up to the gas tank where it continued toward the front at a 130-degree angle, split, and finally disappeared beneath the body just below the handlebars. Aside from that, this monstrosity of a transportation device was mostly black. The body itself was matte, while parts of the engine were a dull dark gray.

It looked like it belonged on a racetrack, not some parking garage in NYC.

"What..." I started. "Is that?"

"A Ninja H2R," Haze said, already reaching for the matching black helmet with a red-tinted visor. "A.k.a. that ride you asked for."

"I changed my mind."

"Don't tell me you're scared of a little headwind."

"No," I said. "I would just prefer to live to see tomorrow."

And that taunting smile of his was back. "Don't worry, you're safe with me."

"Oh, really?" I swallowed, ignoring what those words did to a certain part of my brain. "For all I know, you could be plotting to make sure I can't tell anyone about your secret."

"Careful, you're gonna give me all kinds of ideas."

I involuntarily took a step back.

"Relax, Cupcake," he continued, still smiling. "This was your idea, remember?"

He wasn't wrong, although this wasn't exactly what I'd had in mind. Why couldn't he have a car like any normal supernatural? Cars were safe. This wasn't safe. Then again, there wasn't anything normal about Haze... and even if I hated to admit it, the bike matched its owner exceptionally well.

Damn it. It was either this or missing my chance to do some digging.

I bit my lip. "Do you have a second helmet?"

"No, you'll be using mine." He turned said helmet in his hand and held it out to me. "Not optimal for your tiny little head, but it'll do."

Tiny little—what?

"Nope." Shaking my definitely not-tiny head, I retreated a few steps. "No way. I won't be responsible for any possible head injuries on your part."

"Aww, you worried about me? Again?"

So he did remember that. Great.

"Please," I mumbled, "don't kid yourself."

"You keep this up, people are gonna start thinking you care about my well-being."

"Shut up." I brushed past him to take a closer look at the bike—not because I wanted to escape that crimson gaze of his. "I'm serious about the helmet."

"You're really gonna make me get a second one?" he groaned, leaning forward with both elbows on the seat of the bike. "Didn't you have somewhere you needed to be?"

"Watch it, your sloth is showing."

He did have a point though. If we didn't get a move on soon, I could just as well have taken the later bus. That would have been safer for sure.

"But, yes," I continued. "I'm not about t-to die on this—this death machine because of something as stupid as the stubborn driver not wearing a helmet."