He slipped on his sunglasses, and the engine snarled when he brought it to life. I climbed on and reached for something to grab on to, but my fingers slipped from leather to the plastic cover of the taillight.
Travis grabbed my wrists and wrapped them around his middle. “There’s nothing to hold on to but me, Pidge. Don’t let go,” he said, pushing the bike backward with his feet. With a flick of his wrist, he pulled onto the street, and took off like a rocket. The pieces of my hair that hung loose beat against my face, and I ducked behind Travis, knowing I would end up with bug guts on my glasses if I looked over his shoulder.
He gunned the throttle when we pulled into the driveway of the restaurant, and once he slowed to a stop, I wasted no time scrambling to the safety of the concrete.
“You’re a lunatic!”
Travis chuckled, leaning his bike onto its kickstand before dismounting. “I went the speed limit.”
“Yeah, if we were on the Autobahn!” I said, pulling out my bun to separate the rats with my fingers.
Travis watched me pull hair away from my face and then walked to the door, holding it open. “I wouldn’t let anything happen to you, Pigeon.”
I stormed past him into the restaurant, my head not quite in sync with my feet. Grease and herbs filled the air as I followed him across the red, breadcrumb-speckled carpet. He chose a booth in the corner, away from the patches of students and families, and then ordered two beers. I scanned the room, watching the parents coaxing their boisterous children to eat, and looking away from the inquisitive glances of Eastern students.
“Sure, Travis,” the waitress said, writing down our drink orders. She looked a bit high from his presence as she returned to the kitchen.
I tucked the wind-blown hairs behind my ears, suddenly embarrassed by my appearance. “Come here often?” I asked acerbically.
Travis leaned on the table with his elbows, his brown eyes fixated on mine. “So what’s your story, Pidge? Are you a man-hater in general, or do you just hate me?”
“I think it’s just you,” I grumbled.
He laughed once, amused at my mood. “I can’t figure you out. You’re the first girl that’s ever been disgusted with me before sex. You don’t get all flustered when you talk to me, and you don’t try to get my attention.”
“It’s not a ploy. I just don’t like you.”
“You wouldn’t be here if you didn’t like me.”
My frown involuntarily smoothed and I sighed. “I didn’t say you’re a bad person. I just don’t like being a foregone conclusion for the sole reason of having a vagina.” I focused on the grains of salt on the table until I heard a choking noise from Travis’ direction.
His eyes widened and he quivered with howling laughter. “Oh my God! You’re killing me! That’s it. We have to be friends. I won’t take no for an answer.”
“I don’t mind being friends, but that doesn’t mean you have to try to get in my panties every five seconds.”
“You’re not sleeping with me. I get it.”
I tried not to smile, but failed.
His eyes brightened. “You have my word. I won’t even think about your panties…unless you want me to.”
I rested my elbows on the table and leaned into them. “And that won’t happen, so we can be friends.”
An impish grin sharpened his features as he leaned in a bit closer. “Never say never.”
“So what’s your story?” I asked. “Have you always been Travis “Mad Dog” Maddox, or is that just since you came here?” I used two fingers on each hand as quotation marks when I said his nickname, and for the first time his confidence waned. He looked a bit embarrassed.
“No. Adam started that after my first fight.”
His short answers were beginning to bug me. “That’s it? You’re not going to tell me anything about yourself?”
“What do you wanna know?”
“The normal stuff. Where you’re from, what you want to be when you grow up…things like that.”