The nurse inched Geraldt’s foot to the right, then to the left. He didn’t ask any questions but rather understood how Geradlt’s body reacted. He took note of when Geraldt’s breath hitched, and when he suddenly put resistance on his foot to prevent it from being moved any further. After a few minutes, the nurse then sat back and looked up at Geraldt, pushing his Alice band up so it pulled the black mess of hair from his face.

“It’s still a bit sensitive, but it looks like it’s getting there. Just don’t twist the foot to the right; otherwise, you’ll pull the muscle again. There’s going to be stiffness for a bit, but I recommend getting an ankle brace to make sure it doesn’t move too much. Compress as usual, but I’m going to write a referral to the school GP so you can get a prescription for anti-inflammatories for a day or two,” droned the nurse impartially. He got up and moved towards the desk, snatching a piece of paper from his pad and writing on it. There was a loud banging sound, and the paper was stamped. The nurse turned and leaned against the desk, folding his arms over his chest, and watched as Geraldt tentatively moved his foot around.

“Don’t do that,” the nurse said, “just try to keep it from straining unnecessarily. Also, I recommend looking into ankle exercises to get some strength into your joints.”

“I’ll look into that, doc. I’ll take a trip down to the GP today,” Geraldt mumbled, climbing off the cot with me as his crutch. The nurse held out the folded referral, and Geraldt took it with a nod. The nurse and the student only glared at each other for a minute, some unspoken word going between them as we left.

“Don’t use the bike,” called the nurse as we left. Geraldt shut the door with an affirmative groan.

“Trouble?”

“No, just a cousin who lost a bet,” chuckled Geraldt as his arm tightened around me. It felt warm—concerningly warm—to be so close to him and to hear that breathy chuckle. Still, there was something that glinted in his eyes that was dangerous and defiant. Walking back to the board, he pulled me to the side. He stared down at me when I yelped but the intensity broke when Geraldt snickered.

“We’re going to the doc,” Geraldt declared, “now.”

“But the bike?”

“I have two pairs of feet now, don’t I?” Geraldt mused theatrically, pointing down at my feet next to his. That stupid, debonair smile and the fact that he basically had me within arm’s length were enough. I didn’t want to see him angry. I couldn’t see him angry at me. I let him guide me to the parking lot, where he stopped.

Stolen novel; please report.

“Might be an issue,” he mumbled. I looked up at Geraldt as he stared down at his covered bike.

“You fine riding without a helmet?”

“Do you know how to ride it?” I gulped, trying to pull out some courage from somewhere.

“I’m the girl’s friend, ain’t I?”

“You know what I mean, Geraldt,” I said jokingly, moving him as if to drop him onto his wounded foot. He hissed at me, reaching up to smack my cheek a little too hard.

“Oh shit,” he gasped, quickly grabbing my chin and turning my face to the side. His eyes scanned the skin, looking for any damage.

“Sorry,” he mumbled. I stayed still. His hand was gripping my chin.

“I’m fine,” I muttered quietly. His fingers were horribly close to my lips, and I wanted to lean into him.

“You ‘right there?”

I looked up at Geraldt, realizing that I was resting my head on his hand like a pet. He had a smile, but it wasn’t his usual brass and debonair smile but some other sweeter smile, like snow in the early morning. I sat back, instinctively nodding and looking away. The air between us was heavy.

Geraldt quickly shuffled, holding onto the supports of the cover. He bent down, unhooking the bottom of the cover before tossing it over the bike. It was beautiful. A red beauty with a small painted detail on the back of a flower and vine.

“Other cousin,” explained Geraldt, seeing how I focused on the detail.

“How many cousins do you have?”

“About three per uncle, so nine,” Geraldt said, standing on his good leg and resting against the bike. He was natural—relatively natural since his foot was healing and stiff. Still, there was an undeniable connection between him and his bike.

“You mind helping me with the kickstand?”

“Oh, sure.”

It was a stupid response. I felt like I was a buffoon tripping over my thoughts. I followed behind him and helped him sit on the bike. He stared at me expectantly. It hit me then that he wanted me to climb on the back behind him to kick the ‘kickstand’ out and in. Had I been given a choice, death would’ve been a good one. I sat behind him, putting my ankle against the kickstand, and waited for a sign.

“You not gonna hold on?”

This was shit, and I was about to fall flat into the abyss. I wrapped my arms around his waist and felt his body stiffen at the contact. I don’t think he knew I was just as tense about this entire situation. Still, he revved the bike into life, and I pushed the kickstand back as he drove forward. The roaring sound of the bike and the gentle purring sent a shock up my spine. Without knowledge, I tightened my arms around Geraldt. I heard him chuckle as we rode closer to the gate. A security guard looked up from his tablet when he heard the bike near the gate.

“Do you have permission?” The guard asked lazily, returning his eyes back to the paper.

“Reach into my pocket there and grab the referral,” Geraldt whispered to him, his eyes gleaming with playful curiosity.

“Over my dead body.”

“Had to try,” Geraldt huffed with a playful pout. I shook my head, but when he revved the bike more to move towards the booth, I held onto him enough to warrant a hiss from him. He smacked at my hands quickly.

“Let off,” stammered Geraldt. I finally loosened my arms, and he nodded. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out the referral and handed it to the security guard. The guard didn’t bother to read it but looked over and handed it back to Geraldt.

“Thanks, boss. I’ll see you in an hour.”

“Right,” the security guard said, opening the gates and letting Geraldt tentatively speed up and ride into the road.