"I don't know anything about mine," she said, studying her feet, then realized what she was doing. "Harper Bailey," she said cheerfully, holding out her hand, revealing a dimpled grin.
I buckled the clasp around her delicate chin, resting my hands on the top of the helmet playfully. "My name is Callum Tate and I’m going to take care of you, Harper Bailey."
Her extended hand dropped into her lap. Her eyes went wide and her mouth dropped open. "Wh...what did you say?"
Shit. Was that was too forward? "I'm sorry,” I said, shaking my head. “I'm Callum Tate. It's a pleasure to meet you, Harper Bailey." I grabbed her thin hand and a shot of warmth crept up my veins and shocked my heart into a frenzy.
The smile that had so quickly faded before came back with a vengeance. She squeezed my hand in greeting and whispered, "It's very nice to meet you, Callum."
I climbed on to the front part of the seat and started the engine. Harper settled her hands on the side of my ribs and I couldn't think of anything I wanted more than her arms wound tight against my chest. Suddenly, I couldn't get on the road fast enough.
Harper
I think Callum Tate can read minds. It's either that or there was something seriously strange going on between the two of us.
He started the motor and pulled the bike up on its wheels, lifting it off its stand and balanced our combined weight effortlessly.
He turned slightly to face me, exposing a flirtatious off-kilter grin, “You might want to hang on.”
My stomach flipped in circles as I tightened my hands around his chest and I could feel his heart beat furiously against my palm which only served to make mine race faster.
“You okay?” He asked over the purr of the motor.
More than okay. “Yeah,” I try to say as coolly as possible.
He revs the motor before placing his left hand over mine. “Hold on tight,” he said as if I’d ever let go. As if I could ever let go.
Heat coursed through my arm and when he removes his hand, I felt a lacking I’d never known I could possess.
The wind whipped my hair behind me as I breathed in the warm summer air, letting it fill my lungs. With each breath he took, his chest expanded tightly against my stomach and hands and I can do nothing to stifle the tingling electricity that came with each one, sending my heart into violent trembles.
The Hope House is nothing like I thought it would be because it was worse, which is incredible as I expected awful. The building, though old and beautiful in architecture, was dark and extremely dirty, lines of sickly, equally filthy people huddled against the frame of the structure waiting and desperate to hear they have a place to rest their own heads in a cot for the night rather than the alternative and that was more than likely a cardboard box or a bench. I heard three gunshots go off as well as a woman’s screams but the hundreds queued paid no heed, obviously accustomed to the harrowing sounds.
“Hold on,” he said loudly before popping the curb and settling the bike near a lamp post.
He swung his leg over the seat and unbuckled the strap to my helmet before lifting it from my head. He grinned mischievously.
“My hair is stuck to my head at weird angles, isn’t it?” I asked, a blush already descending upon my cheeks.
He studied me carefully before bursting out laughing. “Maybe,” he teased. “Here,” he said, smoothing out the unruly mess. The contact he makes with my skin gives me an involuntary shudder. “Are you cold?” He asked, raising one eyebrow.
“Uh, no, just...just got a glimpse at where we were and gotta’ admit, I’m a bit un-enthused but beggars can’t be choosers, right?”
“Poor Harper,” he said with a slight frown. “You most certainly are not a beggar but I will admit we’ve not any choices,” he playfully winked, sending me into yet another frenzy. “Come on.” He placed his hands on my waist and lifted me off the seat.
“Good gosh, Callum!” I say, lifting my voice to the level of my now boiling blood pressure. His touch is intimidating, making me choke on the sharp inhalation its spark gives to me.
“What?”
I’m flustered. “I just wasn’t expecting you to lift me is all.”
“I’m sorry,” he apologizes. “I’m acting too familiar with you and I just can’t explain why. I’m usually more polite than this. You just affect me differently than most.”
Don’t read too much into that, Harper.
“Alright,” he says, wrapping a large, thick chain around his bike and the post beside it before attaching the largest lock I’ve ever seen made. “Shall we?” He gestured toward the rows of people.
We walked toward the end of the line and sat in uncomfortable silence, each probably wondering if we knew what we were doing.
Callum
I don't know what I'm doing. I think I might have offended her by grabbing her waist without asking. I don't know why I did it either because the last thing I want is to offend this incredible girl.
"So, tell me, how were you orphaned?" I asked. Shock colors her face. Nice start there, goofball. Really sensitive. "I'm sor...," I start, but before I can even finish, she bursts out laughing.
"I've never actually had anyone ask me that so blatantly before yet it doesn't seem like such an unnatural question, seeming as we share the same plight."
"And what plight is that?" I ask.
"Oh, I don't know. The one where we meet in the lobby of social services after being kicked out of our foster homes for being afflicted with the 'eighteen disease'. Not to mention the part where we're standing in line together at The Hope House, a relief center that can't accommodate the demands being asked of it."