Lex

I stood on the porch, waiting eagerly to hear his approaching motorcycle. A text message of are you home? from him got a prompt yes response from me. He then said he wanted to talk to me in person. When I asked what it was about, he simply responded we’ll talk when I get there.

As I heard the motorcycle’s engine in the distance, I became apprehensive. Not knowing what event called for an early evening surprise visit didn’t sit well with me, and although I was probably mistaken, thoughts of repercussions from Calle 18’s gang came to mind.

I gazed toward the sound, waiting for him to come over the top of the hill. Like magic, he appeared, the exhaust cackling behind him as he sped toward me.

He rolled into the drive, took off his helmet, and pulled his cap down low on his head. As he got off the bike he glanced at me and grinned. Then his eyes fell to the sidewalk, and he sauntered toward me with his hands shoved deep into the pockets of his jeans, seeming nervous as he approached.

He stopped at the front of the porch. His eyes were fixed on my knees.

What the fuck?

“Nice, aren’t they?” I asked, my voice thick with sarcasm.

“What’s that?” He looked up, but not enough that I could see the eyes that were hidden beneath the bill of his hat.

“My knees,” I said dryly. “You’re staring at them, and it’s weird.”

He pulled the bill of his cap up slightly and grinned. “Sorry.”

He still hadn’t made eye contact. His focus was now on my twat. “What’s going on?” I twisted my hips to the side and motioned toward the door. “Want to come in?”

His hands went into his pockets again. He shrugged slightly.

“You don’t know if you want to come in?”

He pushed his thumb against the bill of his hat, lifting it enough that I could see his eyes. His face was cleanly shaven, and he looked like a tattooed little boy. A muscular tattooed little boy.

“I uhhm. I wanted to ask you something,” he stammered.

I shrugged. “You can ask me anything.”

He looked up, inhaled a shallow breath, and locked eyes with me. “Would you want to eat dinner with me? At my mom’s house? Just you, me, and her? She wants to meet you.”

Wow.

He could have said a lot of things. Nothing, however, would have filled me with warmth and excited me as much as what he had asked.

The thought of it made me nervous and excited me at the same time.

“You told her about me?”

“Yeah. I did,” he said. “It was hard not to.”

I felt like I was being asked to prom, and I liked it.

“Yes,” I said. “I’d love to come to dinner and meet her.”

“When?” he asked sheepishly.

I couldn’t help but smile. “When were you thinking?”

He lifted his bill a little more, resting the hat on the back of his head. “You busy now?”

Now?

“Now?” I gasped. “Like now?”

“Or whenever.” He stepped onto the porch. “She cooks dinner every night, even if no one’s there. I was telling her about you, and she wants to meet you. She makes better tacos than I do, I can tell you that.”

You told her about me?

The realization that I was going to meet his mother hit me. My stomach felt nervous.

“I’m not…I need to get ready. I look like I just woke up,” I murmured.

He looked me up and down. “You’re beautiful. You uhhm. You look beautiful.”

I was flattered, but I tried not to show it. “I do not.”

“You do.” He pulled his hat firmly and tilted his head toward the driveway. “Let’s go do it. C’mon.”

He stepped down, took a few steps toward his bike, and then paused. He turned and looked right at me, as if waiting for me to follow him.

As much as I liked the idea of going to dinner, I felt the need to postpone it for at least long enough to prepare mentally and physically. A day would be nice. Maybe two.

My lips parted slightly. I stood like a fool, open-mouthed, gawking at him and mentally searching for what to say.

I felt the need to thank him for the invitation, accept it, and then explain how I simply needed time to prepare. With a stomach filled with butterflies, I cautiously stepped off the porch and walked to his side.

I looked him in the eyes and opened my mouth. Fully prepared to blurt out all the reasons I couldn’t leave with him, I stood there for an instant, mentally fumbling with what to say.

He leaned into the space that separated us until there was nothing left.

I saw it coming, I really did. My heart told me to turn away, but my body and mind offered no resistance.

His lips met mine.

The kiss wasn’t aggressive, nor was it overly sensual. His lips simply pressed against mine fully, and we kissed.

Most women would have wanted more. Much more. But, for me, it was caring, kind, gentle, and absolutely perfect.

The kiss took me to a place I wasn’t sure I’d been before. Somewhere safe, and special. Together, he and I resided there, but only for a short moment. As our mouths parted, my knees went weak.

With my lips still puckered into a kiss, I looked at him, shocked and pleased at the same time.

He grinned. “I’ve been wanting to do that.”

“Oh,” I breathed. “It was, uhhm. Wow. That’s all I got. Wow.”

Any thoughts of not going to dinner with him vanished.

“So, what are you thinking?” he asked.

“About?” the word hung in the air like a wisp of smoke.

“Dinner?” he asked.

“Let me get my purse.”