He was right.

It didn't take us long at all.

I held on tight to his waist and we sped off into the busy traffic of the unwinding day. I rested my head between his shoulder blades and dissolved into a liquid dream. The swerving through traffic didn't help my already queasy stomach. We stopped at a red light and Isamu's boots found the asphalt, balancing the bike as he leaned against me. Running a hand over mine entwined around his waist. As if wanting reassurance, he ...