Friends Don't Fall in Love by Erin Hahn

Author:Erin Hahn
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: St. Martin's Publishing Group

* * *

Decision made, I drift off uneasily sometime in the middle of the night and wake blearily with the sunrise. I boil some water over the stove and make myself some coffee in an ancient French press I’ve tucked away in the single cabinet before eating an unsatisfying breakfast of a protein bar and another banana. I finish cleaning up after myself, double-check the stove is cooling, and close the door behind me.

I stop on the porch, sucking in the crisp clean air and absorbing what remaining refuge I can from the silence. Eventually, though, it’s time, and I tug on my helmet and kick-start the engine to my bike, putting the Smokies behind me. I don’t stop, except for gas, until I’m pulling down my street. Our street. I’m unshowered, smell like a firepit, and have barely slept, but I know in my gut this won’t wait another minute.

She’s sitting on our balcony, pretty feet perched on the railing and guitar in her lap, when I pull up, my bike revving. I pull off my helmet just as she stands, guitar forgotten, gawking at me.

“I thought you got rid of your bike!”

I shake my head, grimacing at the sweat matting down my hair. “What gave you that idea?”

She lifts a shoulder. “Guess I don’t know. You always walk and I haven’t seen it all year.”

She’s not wrong. I do prefer walking everywhere around town. Especially since my apartment and my work are only blocks apart.

But I’ll never get rid of my Harley.

“Wanna go for a ride?”

She takes a moment to consider, and my chest constricts because I need to fix this thing between us. She doesn’t need to go for a ride with me, obviously, but it’d help. At least that’s what I’ve convinced myself in the last five hours coming down from the mountains. If she’s not into it, I probably should head up to my apartment and shower before banging on her door to plead my case. Either way, I have to talk to her.

“You sure?” she checks, already collecting her things, which definitely include the shredded pieces of my pride.

I move closer so that I’m right under the balcony. “Wouldn’t have asked if I wasn’t. I think I have a spare helmet in the garage.”

She grins, and the next words out of her sweet mouth knock my heart clear out of my chest. “No need. I still have mine.” She turns for her house, closing the sliding glass behind her, and I wait, trying to breathe, practicing what I’ll say.

A minute later, she’s closing her front door and locking it before practically skipping over to me. She pulls on her old hot pink helmet, strapping it under her chin, and slips behind me.

“Where’re we going?”

“Does it matter?” Because I have no idea.

“Fuck no. Take me away, Huckleberry.”

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