I say. My tank top is on backwards and I didn’t even bother with pants, just threw on James’s leather jacket. James’s bike is smooshed like a great big metallic fly against the brick alley wall. “No.” “What do you mean no?” I hold my arms out at Exhibit A and B. “This wasn’t an accident. How many people crash into a parked bike in a one way alley and then just back up?” He’s shirtless and his jeans are unbuttoned. He just paces angrily with arms crossed over his chest. In the dark, I can’t see the brilliant green of his eyes, but I can still taste him on my lips and feel him on my skin. It’s something even the rain can’t wash away. Something that’s attached itself inside me, the same thing that makes me ache for him. I try to think why in the world he wouldn’t report this. There’s no damage to the restaurant, so I have no reason to, either.
