I’m glad when Nat comes over for one of her unannounced visits, as she often does.

 

Sometimes, they’re a pain, but not today. Not even close. Today, seeing Nat is just what I need, someone to take my mind off everything. Too bad the first thing Nat says when she drops onto the couch is—

 

“So, tell me about this biker!”

 

Nat is short and thin, though not quite as thin as me. She has wide, dark blue eyes, a cute, button nose, a bright, blonde twenties-style bob of hair that hugs her face, and a classic fake tan. Oh, and she’s always smiling; always bright and happy. Today she wears a flowing polka-dotted dress and strappy sandals, with a gemstone necklace resting against her chest.

 

She stares up at me. Without realizing it, I’ve begun to pace.

 

“Oh, Nat,” I sigh. “Really?”

 

Nat throws her hands up wildly. “You text me that you’ve met a biker, and you’re going for a ride with him… Don’t you see how mad that is! Imagine if I text you one day: Hey, Eden, just letting you know I’ve met a hitman and I’m going to brunch with him. Oh, and if I return, please don’t ask me about it!” She tilts her head like a teacher who’s just finished a lecture. “Come on, Eden, let’s be real. Who is he? Did you really only meet him today? Why did you go for a ride with him?”

 

“I feel like I’m under attack,” I mutter, but it’s with a smile. Nat’s famous amongst her friends for her rapid-fire, machine-gun questions. “Where do you want me to start?” I ask because I know she won’t give up until she has her answers.

 

She claps her hands together, seal-like. “Yippee!”

 

Hollywood, look what you’ve created!

 

“Okay, so…” She chews her cheek, and then opens her mouth wide, eager, like a kindergarten kid. “First of all, did you really only meet him today? I mean, you met him today and then you went for a ‘ride’ with him? Is that right?”

 

I stop pacing and sit on the edge of the coffee table. I notice that my knees are bobbing up and down, up and down. They bob the same way when I’m sitting in an exam or getting grilled in a seminar at college.

 

“Yes,” I say. “I—” What exactly did I do? I decide to shorten it. “I met him, we got to talking, and he offered to take me for a ride.”

 

“O-kay…” Nat is looking at me in amazement, as though she’s seeing me for the first time. “But why? I mean, come on, Eden. You’re not usually the spur-of-the-moment kind of gal. How long have I known you now? Four years? Five, soon. In all that time I’ve never seen or heard of you just riding off with some guy you met. It’s usually very proper dates, isn’t it? A very proper date and then a very proper second date and a very proper third date and if the guy’s lucky he’ll get a peck on the cheek. You don’t just ride.”

 

“I know, I know.” I smooth my hand up and down my leg. “It’s weird.”

 

“So, why?”

 

“That’s a good question.”

 

“I asked a good question!” Nat cries playfully. “Are you going to answer it?”

 

“Um, sure. Let’s see…”

 

“You’re normally the master at knowing yourself, Eden. Didn’t you tell me someone at college calls you Miss Introspection because you’re always able to look inward or something like that? You know, those fancy college ideas don’t sit well with a simple programmer like me.” She flashes her teeth. “Come on.”

 

“I guess it was because he’s sexy,” I admit quietly.

 

Nat’s forehead crinkles and her eyebrows fly up. Her left hand opens and closes. “Eden!” she exclaims. “That’s not—”

 

“Like me, I know. But seriously, Nat, he is really sexy. He swaggered in, wearing his leather jacket and these big boots, and started flirting with the waitresses, loud enough so everyone could hear. I should’ve thought he was a jerk. Hell, I did think he was a jerk. But then he bought me a coffee, and we got talking, and… Damn, Nat, I just couldn’t stop staring at him. I kept looking at his face and thinking: Have I ever seen a sexier man in real life? Maybe on a movie poster, but in real life? And then he asked me to go for a ride. I kept looking and looking. He’s really strong; he has really big muscles. I kept wondering if his muscles were going to burst out of his jacket. And his eyes are bright blue, bright, sort of like someone from Iceland or Sweden or somewhere like that. Somewhere Viking. And when he looked at me, my mind filled with…”

 

I stop, my words trailing off.

 

I’m gushing, I think in horror. I’m gushing about a man’s looks.

 

“Don’t stop on my account,” Nat smiles. “It’s nice to see you this into a man. Usually, it’s a very cold event.”

 

“Sorry, Nat, I didn’t mean to bombard you.”

 

“I don’t mind,” Nat says. “So, he’s just that hot, is he?”

 

“Yeah,” I murmur. “Yeah, he is. The thing is, I like to think myself above that. You know, gushing over a man because he’s hot. But this man, it’s different. Maddox: he looks dangerous and protective at the same time.”

 

“Oh?” Nat’s smile is snakelike, all gums. “So he’s one of those men we’re always murdering in our game?”

 

That’s true. In our video game, the female leads go to the city and fight men, and the men are invariably like Maddox. Tough men. Alpha men. Men who objectify women, just as Maddox objectifies me.

 

“I don’t know what to think,” I say, gripping my knee, trying to still it.

 

“You do sound conflicted.”

 

“I am.” I shrug. “One second I’m neck-deep in code, the next I’m on the back of some stranger’s bike. The weird thing is, he didn’t do anything. There were moments when he leaned in like he was going to kiss me, and even moments where he touched me—”

 

“Woo-hoo!” Nat giggles. “Touched you?”

 

“Not like that,” I say. “Just held my hand or put his hand on my shoulder. And then I thought he was going to kiss me, make a move, but he didn’t. And the strange part is that he seemed to know he was toying with me. It’s hard to explain, Nat. He was one of those jerky men, but he was also incredibly insightful. He seemed to know me. How to play me.”

 

“Is that a good or a bad thing?”

 

“Usually I’d say bad, but with Maddox…” I exhale slowly. “My thoughts aren’t even close to straight on the subject, to be honest. All I know is I’d love to—” I cut myself off. Was I really about to say that? I snap at myself. I was going to say: I’d really love to fuck him.

 

“Love to what?” Nat asks.

 

I think quickly. “… know exactly why I’m so into him when I’ve never met him before.”

 

“Ah.”

 

There’s a pause. Outside, in the street below, some kids are skateboarding. The sound of wheels against pavement filter up to the second-floor apartment. The sun is beginning to set, throwing orange-yellow light against the blinds, glowing into the room. In the apartment opposite mine, Mr. Michaels is making fajitas, the scent of spices and herbed chicken drift into the living room.

 

Then Nat says, “So, are you going to see this Maddox again?”

 

Yes, tomorrow, when I go to pick up our code from him. But I’m reluctant to tell Nat about the code. She might panic, and I wouldn’t blame her. After all, I did give our precious project to a complete stranger. So instead I just lift my hands in an I-don’t-know gesture. “Maybe,” I say. “I guess it depends.”

 

“On what?” Nat says, rubbing her hands together. “How badly you want his junk?”

 

“You, Natalie Smith, are a disgusting, repressed human being.”

 

“And now you are, too, my sweet Eden. Welcome to the club!”

 

I don’t deny her words because they’re true. No longer can I call myself Miss Aloof, Miss Don’t-Give-A-Damn, because now I do give a damn. Maddox – a muscular, tattooed, outlaw biker of all things – has changed me.

 

“Do we get badges?” I ask, with a small laugh.