Free Lie for Me by Romily Bernard Page B

blue one” or “the gray one.” Wick doesn’t and I like her more for it.
    â€œNo, it’s vintage. Everyone around here goes for Harleys, but this is a 1978 Honda CB400. My dad and I stripped it down to be a café racer.”
    Wick smiles, hands drifting to my shoulders before she slides in behind me. The contact’s brief and sends me instantly straight.
    Wick stiffens, wiggling away from me and putting space between us. Without looking back, I hook my arm around her, tug her close, and, for a beat, we both freeze. She fits so perfectly against me I almost can’t breathe.
    â€œYou okay?” I ask.
    â€œUm, yeah.” Her hand scrabbles around. If she’s looking for handholds, she’s out of luck. The bike doesn’t have any.
    Which means she’ll have to hold on to me.
    Only she isn’t.
    â€œSo how did you know where I live anyway?” Wick asks, voice a little high and reedy. I’ve heard the tone before, and there’s something about it that makes me think she’s only barely holding it together. “How did you know which window was mine the other night?”
    Careful here . “I know a lot about you.” I make sure to sound light as I step down on the gas and the engine cranks.
    I shift us into first gear, coasting the bike forward and waiting for Wick to loop her arms around me. I glance back, grin.
    Her face goes bright pink. “You ‘know a lot’ about me? Stalk much, Griffin?”
    I grin wider. This back-and-forth thing we do . . . “I like it when you’re mean. Don’t be a chicken, Wick. Hold on to me.”
    â€œRight. Like you scare me.” One small hand eases along my hip, brushes across my stomach, and suddenly I can’t breathe again.
    I hold still, letting Wick’s arms settle against me. Then she shifts closer and I gun us forward, shooting the bike into the street. She tenses at the first corner, but by the time we’re to the main road, her arms and hands have loosened.
    Her chin fits into my shoulder and I feel every gasp as we weave through the cars, but she never asks me to slow down. Then again, I guess she wouldn’t. Everything with this girl is a fight.
    It makes it so much better now that I’m winning.

11
    By the time we get to the first intersection light, Wick’s feeling bold enough to sit up and look around. There are guys in a minivan checking her out on one side of us and a cop on the other. She tucks closer to me, cheek pressing between my shoulder blades. She’s facing the minivan losers again, and judging by their expressions, she’s glaring them down.
    â€œFriends of yours?” I tease, rolling us forward as the light turns green. The wind rips away her laugh, but I can feel how it makes her body shake.
    Too bad everything tenses as soon as I park in her driveway. Wick hops off the bike before I’m fully stopped, already fiddling with the chinstrap buckle. “So how’d you get caught up with Joe?” she asks.
    The best lies are built on truth, but this one feels like a low blow. “He stopped by the school.”
    â€œSeriously?” Wick passes me the helmet, color draining from her face. “Was he trying to steal something?”
    Odds are, Joe was looking for one of his dealers. There are two or three of them who work the high school circuit. He could easily have been looking for them. Judging from Wick’s reaction though, she doesn’t think he was. She’s scared and I’m confused. Whatever Carson thinks Wick is, whatever I thought she was, we’re both wrong.
    So it makes me even more of a dick for using Wick’s fear against her, but if she thinks I’m on her side, she might confide in me. “No, I think he was looking for you.”
    Wick doesn’t say a word. She wraps her arms around her middle like I kicked her in the stomach—and looking at her like that makes me feel like someone