What the hell was I thinking?

When I agreed to get drinks with Will Myers, I couldn’t focus through the thick haze of heat and confusion long enough to foresee myself in this moment.

The last time I stood in this closet, it was grab and run. I took the items I couldn’t live without and left the rest. I often wondered what my father would do with this stuff. Toss it, maybe. Sell it for any spare change he could get for it, more likely. Can’t say I expected it all to still be here when — or if — I ever came back.

But it’s all still here. Ripped jeans and band t-shirts. Miniskirts and knee-high boots. I’ve never been the poster girl for modern fashion but I had a look, that’s for sure. Little retro here, little modern chic there. No fucks given everywhere else.

But I’m not that girl anymore.

So, what the hell am I supposed to wear tonight?

I remind myself again that this isn’t a date. I don’t have to look perfect. I’m just catching up with someone that I used to know. Someone I thought I’d spend the rest of my life with at one point but still just someone I knew before I knew any better.

I stop staring and start sliding the hangers to the side, taking a closer look at my options. It’s still too cold for a skirt or sleeveless, so that eliminates these. I grab a pair of old jeans and slip into them. A bit snug, but at least they still fit.

I find a black turtleneck in the back and step into a pair of matching boots. Good enough.

The engine echoes up the street just as I finish applying my lipstick. I pause, letting the sound sweep over me for a few seconds as I stare at myself. My first thought is to shut off the lights and head toward the window. That’s what I did so many times before but this isn’t high school anymore.

I stuff my house key and wallet into my jacket pocket and walk through the house toward the front door.

Hank sits on his chair in front of the TV. “Where are you going?”

“Into town to meet up with old friends,” I say, flicking the locks open.

“What friends?” he mutters. “You never had friends.”

I ignore the question. “I’ll be back later.”

“Don’t think I don’t remember whose bike that is.”

“I’m twenty-three-years-old, Hank,” I point out. “I think we’re past the age where you get to tell me who I can spend my time with.”

“I think if you spent more time listening to what I told you then you wouldn’t have moved back home at twenty-three,” he says, popping a victory cashew into his mouth.

“I’ll be back later,” I repeat, yanking the door open and stepping outside.

And just like that, I’m seventeen again; walking outside with rolling eyes and a shitty attitude to run away from my drunken father and straight into Will Myers’ arms. It’s almost nostalgic.

Will sits on his motorcycle at the end of the driveway and while my toes curl a little bit as he pulls his helmet off and smiles at me, my eyes instantly fall to The Bolt instead.

“Oh, baby,” I say, admiring it. “I’ve missed you.”

Will revs the engine once and the sound echoes throughout the neighborhood. “I’d feel jealous, but this is a really nice bike.”

“Damn right.”

He hops off his seat and lifts it open to grab the second helmet from inside the hatch. “For you...”

I take it from him, smiling wide. “Wow, you really did keep it.”

“Well, I’m a hoarder. Don’t take it personally.”

I chuckle and turn it over in my hands. “So, who used it after me?”

“Nobody,” he says. I raise a brow. “Jovie, I swear, nobody has worn that thing but you.”

“The strap is wrong.”

He pauses. “What?”

I hold it out to him. “I made a notch in the strap to easily secure optimum snugness for my head.”

“So?”

“So, now, it’s moved.”

“I move the strap when I clean it.”

“No, you don’t.”

“Jovie...” he smirks, “just put it on.”

I sigh and adjust the strap to its proper place. “Fine.” I push my hair back to keep it from getting caught as I pull the helmet onto my head. “Smells like a nightclub in here…”

“Who knew you were the jealous type?” he chuckles.

I stare through the shield. “So, where are we going?” I ask, sliding onto the seat behind him.

“Lucky’s?” he suggests.

“Sounds good.”

He revs the engine again, sending a flurry of delightful vibrations through my core.

“Oh, baby...” I say again.

He glares over his shoulder at me.

“Who knew you were the jealous type?” I parrot back as I slam the shield down.

We take off at top speed through the neighborhood. Wind rushes past and I rest my hands on his waist to hold me up. Fire and lightning shoot up my arms the moment I touch him. I flinch and hope to God he doesn’t notice my quivering fingers.

Will, Jovie, and the Bolt. I can’t begin to guess how many times the two of us rode through town like this, swerving through the empty streets in the middle of the night. No one around. Nothing to stop us. Of course, if we rode in one place too long, the sheriff would show up, but we usually managed to stay ahead of him. We had our regular haunts. The quiet places where we could pull over and sit beneath the stars.

My heart slams in my chest.

It all comes back so quickly…

We ride into the parking lot of Lucky’s bar at the far edge of town, just off the highway. The lot is mostly deserted, as it usually was on a weeknight. Will and I didn’t exactly spend a lot of time on the inside of the place before, what with the lack of legal drinking age, but we got to know the dark, abandoned corners of the parking lot very well.

Will packs our helmets into the seat before we head inside. My ears fill with that soft twang of country music and I recoil from the stench of cigarette smoke but neither irks me as much as the dozen pairs of eyes burning holes through my skull right now.

Every drinker and pool player, every bartender and waiter, Lucky herself included. They all come to a grinding halt as if my mere existence offended them. Hell, it probably does.

“Uh-oh...”