Not completely anyway. As she steps out in front of me, I put my hand at the base of her spine. I feel her twitch at the contact. It’s not a flinch, but an actual twitch. Like I shocked her with a small electrical current. Like she’s feeling everything I’m feeling. And I’d bet any amount of money she is. It’s sexual awareness. It’s attraction. It’s anticipation. She’s made her choice. She doesn’t have to tell me, or even admit it to herself, but she’s made it nonetheless. I can feel it. I walk her out to her car. My bike is parked sideways in front of it. She stops when we get close to it. “Is this what you drive?” she asks, turning those wide eyes up to me. “Yes,” I say, but then I add with a smirk, “but you’re not surprised, are you? Isn’t this what bad-boys do? Ride motorcycles and break hearts?” Her smile is weak. “I suppose so.” She turns away and moves around to unlock the car door and pop the hood. I shouldn’t have said that. I unstrap the jumper cables I brought from behind the seat and hook them from my battery to hers.
