In The Next Room

Chapter 3

“This might be an issue,” Locke said as we looked down at his motorcycle where he had last parked it in a parking garage. “We can’t very well carry your things while on a motorcycle, can we?” 

He was decked out in his leather motor jacket again, yet underneath he dressed plainly in a t-shirt and jeans. His hands were in his front pockets as we stood in front of his only mode of transportation, realizing that this wasn’t going to work. 

Meanwhile, I had my fingers laced in the now clean belt loops of my jeans, trying to occupy them so they wouldn’t reach out to touch him. To feel if the muscles I had felt at my back last night were as hard and sculpted as I thought they were.

“Any ideas?” he asked, raising an eyebrow at me. I was quiet, which was probably making him suspicious. My face flushed a little and I felt like an innocent teenager with a petty, meaningless crush, but it didn’t make the facts any easier to swallow.

“Uh, no,” my voice cracked, and I forced myself to look away from him and look at the sleek, black motorcycle in front of us. “Oh, actually,” I started, glancing at him. “My roommate, Liz. She has a car. I can ask her if I can use it today. She should say yes, after all, she was the one who kicked me out.”

“She has a right to get some peace and quiet,” Locke answered, swinging one long, lean leg over the motorcycle to straddle it. He thrust a key into the ignition, and the large hunk of terrifying metal roared to life with a couple of sputters and then a smooth purr. “What are you waiting for, Rowan? Get on.”

“W-what?” I asked, clutching my hands around my hips tightly, not wanting to get on the death machine. “I’m not getting on that thing.”

“Why not?” Locke asked, shifting his body to face me while straddling his only mode of transportation. “I can assure you I’m a safe driver,” he whispered, reaching out a hand to me. 

My hands stayed glued to my sides, not willing to risk my life. “I’d rather walk, to be honest.”

Locke sighed and looked down at the machine in front of him. “I swear, I won’t let anything happen to you, Rowan.”

“Where did you get this thing anyway?” I asked, raising my eyebrows at him, even though he wouldn’t lift his head to look at my face. Locke didn’t seem like the guy who would save up to buy a motorcycle. He was more the type to buy something with good gas mileage and something safe… like a Prius. 

“Just get on, Rowan. Please.”

“I won’t get on until you tell me,” I said firmly, and if my hands weren’t already on my hips, they’d be positioned there now to get my point across.

“Please, Rowan. I swear, it’s safe. I even have an extra helmet,” he said, offering a red helmet to me. “Since you’ll be riding back with your stuff, and Liz would be insane to let you drive alone, I’ll be forced to come back here myself. I don’t want to walk. And I don’t want you to walk alone by yourself back to your dorm.”

“I walked here last night, and I arrived safe and sound,” I retorted. 

“It was my brother’s,” Locke finally said after a small period of silence. “The motorcycle was my brother’s.”

“Why do you—“ I started, but he cut me off. 

“Please. Don’t ask, Rowan.” His face lifted to look me in the eye, and I saw nothing but pain in the swirling brown pools of his eyes. “Just get on. Please.”

“Okay,” I whispered, stepping closer and swinging my leg over the machine so I was not only straddling it, but I was also straddling Locke’s backside. “You promise to be careful?”