Burn Before Reading(45)

"I'm a lot of things," Wolf said, walking over to his bike and pulling a spare helmet from the seat compartment. He offered me it. "But I'm not a liar."

"With you? I’m in my -" I looked down at my pjs. "I'm in my pajamas, for shit's sake! I can't go anywhere like this! And you - you and me - that isn't a thing!"

Wolf darted his eyes above me, to the living room window. "Look."

I looked. Dad stood there, watching us go, clutching a cup of coffee and looking worried. He was up! He was out of his room, getting some sunlight, drinking - it felt so good to see him out and about again.

But how long would it last?

"Pretend, for an hour, like this is real." Wolf muttered, pressing the helmet into my hands. "Come with me. He'll be waiting for you when you get back."

My self split into two again - half wanted to stay and look after Dad, make sure he was alright, the other half wanted nothing more than to get away from the house. If I left, Dad would stay out of his room waiting for me. He'd eat, he'd watch some TV. He'd do something other than sit in that room and stew in his guilt and sickness.

I took the helmet from Wolf and buckled it under my chin. He shrugged his jacket off and dumped it on my shoulder.

"Put that on, too."

"But you’ll be cold -"

"For the love of God, scholarshipper, can you just worry about yourself for once?"

An incredulous laugh bubbled up from me as I pulled the warm jacket on. He was right - I was way colder than he was. It made sense for me to take the jacket. It made sense for me to fake a date with him, in my pjs. This all made sense. If I kept telling myself that, it would be true, right?

Wolf put his own helmet on and revved the motorcycle. He patted the seat behind him, his voice muffled through the visor.

"You can hold on to the back of the seat. I won't go fast."

He never let anyone ride his motorcycle. Mr. Blackthorn had told me that much. So why was he letting me?

"Maybe I'll just hug you, instead," I threatened. All I got for that was a scoff. He hated the touching thing, so I just held onto the seat, careful not to press my legs anywhere near his, though the motorcycle made it hard. I looked back as he revved the engine again - Dad lingered at the window. He saw me on the motorcycle and went stark-white, then barreled for the front door. He was coming out to stop us, but Wolf was faster - he gunned the throttle and drove away, Dad becoming a small, shouting speck on the lawn.

My stomach knotted itself, then loosened. If Dad's pissed at me, maybe it'll take his mind off the argument with Mom. That's a fine trade off.

The wind blew my hair from my shoulders, the smell of maybe-rain and motor oil and greasy fast food assaulting me as we drove down the road. I saw all the familiar pawn shops and Chinese take-out places and realized we were on the strip, heading north. I noticed Wolf didn't take the highway, preferring the residential route instead, probably because I was here. It was a long drive, but the scenes flashing by - houses, kids playing in yards, roadside steakhouses, shopping malls - it all blurred into a sort of white noise that washed my thoughts clean. My brain was empty, too busy watching everything pass me to think about anything at all. The way the motorcycle purred and growled at different speeds, the way Wolf turned it with the slightest tilt of his hands - it was so incredibly fluid. Trees dropped their leaves on my shoulders, flowers spraying pollen as the force of our drive-by wind rustled them.

I didn’t realize it at the time, but looking back on it, it was the most peaceful I'd felt in a while.

Finally, Wolf pulled into the driveway of a small, but very beautiful dark wood house. Ivy clung to the roof, quivering in the autumn breeze. We both got off the motorcycle just as the front door opened.

"Wolfgang!" An old man with silver hair and a cherubic smile walked out. "I'd know that rumbling anywhere!"

He had an accent - Scottish? Irish? I wasn't good at discerning accents. He walked up to Wolf, stretched his arms out as if going in for a hug. Wolf flinched a little, and the man quickly put this arms down.

"Oh my, forgot about that again, I'm sorry my boy," He mused.

"It's fine," Wolf shook his head.

The man spotted me and smiled. "And who is this lovely lady?"

"I kidnapped her," Wolf deadpanned. The man threw an alarmed look at me.

"Is that right?"

"Oh, no -" I suddenly felt self-conscious about my pjs. "We're just - classmates. We're working on a, um, project together."

"She needs something to wear," Wolf said. "Do you have anything, Seamus?"

"Of course!" The old man smiled at me. "Come in, dear. It's much too blustery to be standing around outside."

I furrowed my brows as Wolf and I followed the man in.

"We could've just stopped at a Target, you know," I whispered. Wolf idly played with a leaf of a potted fern in the entrance way. "Who is this guy, anyway? Why are we bothering him?"

"He's my father's tailor," Wolf said.

"Like - like a professional tailor?" I sputtered. "I don't have the money for that. Just take me to Wal-Mart."

"You're not paying," Wolf asserted.

"Listen here, buster, I won't have you paying for my -"