Stupid Cupid

I don't mean to sound like a nerd, but Sonic is my life

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Excuse the mistakes

The picture on the side is from pluckmystrings, to whom this chapter is dedicated to

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You know that feeling when your legs are like jelly, and you can barely stand up?

Yeah, I had that feeling.

Parker and I had been on his motorcycle for about ten minutes before he had to stop at a gas station. It took me a few minutes to get off his motorcycle, and when I had, I began pacing to calm myself down and to regain a normal feeling back in my legs.

“You okay there, Reed?”

“Huh?” My head snapped up from where I’d been staring at the ground as I walked, and I found Parker staring at me. He was fueling his motorcycle, and I found the amusement in his eyes annoying.

“You look like you’re going to be sick, Reed,” Parker stated simply, “Are you okay?”

“Oh, I’m fine,” I replied, waving a hand dismissively, but Parker didn’t look convinced, which honestly didn’t surprise me. However, I didn’t want to admit that I wasn’t a huge fan of his motorcycle. I decided to change the subject.

“So, what are we going to do for the next couple of hours?” I asked as I watched Parker stop the gas and pull the nozzle out of his motorcycle. “I mean, if you want, you can just drop me off at the library or the mall while you go do whatever.”

“Why would I do that?” Parker replied, giving me an incredulous look as he paid for the gas. “Reed, aren’t we on a date?”

“It’s a fake date,” I said slowly, “We don’t actually have to go do something together.” At my words, I noticed Parker’s face fall slightly, and I frowned and added, “But, I guess we can still hang out.”

“Sounds good,” Parker said, a grin returning to his face. “I have a place in mind.”

“Oh?” I replied, “And where is this mystery place?”

“That’s need to know information,” Parker stated, holding out the helmet I’d been wearing, “And you, Reed, don’t need to know.”

“Um,” I drawled as tapped my fingers on the top of the helmet, “If you’re going to take me into a back alley, slaughter me, and then paint pictures with my blood, I think I deserve to know.” Parker just looked at me, and I sighed. “Fine,” I said, “But if my hunch is right, my ghost is going to want a cut of the profits.”

“Just get on,” Parker said, shaking his head and patting the seat behind him.

I pursed my lips and pulled the helmet on over my head. I tightened the strap of my purse across my chest, and with Parker’s help, I swung my leg over the side of the bike. As my hands closed around Parker’s abdomen, the motorcycle came to life. My feet left the pavement, and then we were moving.

I buried the side of my head into Parker’s shoulder as we drove through the streets, and every time Parker turned a corner or his motorcycle tipped to the side, my life flashed before my eyes. This wasn’t like those stories where girls hate motorcycles, but after their first ride, they love them. I was not, nor ever would be, someone who liked motorcycles.

After what seemed like an eternity, Parker turned down an alley and parked between two crappy-looking cars. As I got off the motorcycle, the jelly leg feeling became a little less prominent, I looked around as I took off the helmet. The dingy, sketchy looking parking lot was pretty creepy. “Okay, Parker,” I said nervously, glancing over at him, “I may have teased you a lot, and been slightly abrasive, but—”