2

I shake my head and say a low "No", rubbing my hands over my arms before I turn around on my feet.

—But thank you so much.

The last word almost gets stuck in my throat when I see him right in front of where I am, looking at me with a curious look and a tilted head. A bunny bright smile shines on his face when I'm finally aware of my shocked and weird expression. 

He's even more beautiful up close.

—Don't worry —I continue, afraid of starting a nonsensical rambling because of my nerves—. I called a cab, so it's all fine.

—A cab this late on the busiest day of the week? —he raises his eyebrows surprised—. Sorry to be the one telling you, but I doubt that cab will ever come. Or —he pauses— it might come, but the driver will have to pick your frozen body up from there —he points to where I am standing.

—I could go back and wait inside —I point to the pub with my head.

And it'd be a great idea if cocktails weren't almost twenty dollars each. Unless I'm thinking of cutting off basic ailments for the rest of the month, I don't think I'll go back inside.

—It's up to you —he shrugs—. I made my offer. A quite tempting one, I dare to say.

I look at him unsure of what my answer should be. He's a stranger, a hot one, but he's still someone I don't know. I know I'm past the age of saying "Don't get in a stranger's car", but considering how dangerous it's been for the past months, I'd say I'm not being childish, but preventive. 

He doesn't really seem dangerous though, despite of his looks. He looks chill and relaxed, and his offer seemed genuine.

—I don't want to be a bother —I confess with a low voice.

—You aren't one —he assures me—. But even if you end up being one, I was the one who came up with the idea. So don't worry about that.

—I live in Washington Heights —I warn him.

He puckers his lips, thinking where it might be. His eyes go round as he opens them at the same time his eyebrows raise. He then giggles and shakes his head.

—Just kidding.

He never stops smiling, and even at some point, while he was giggling, he scrunched his nose in the cutest way. The way he acts is the total opposite of what he looks like.

—It's not that far, so I can give you a ride there if you need it —but he stops—. I need to do a stop first though.

He looks at me, asking with the look he's giving me whether I'm okay with that or not. He's doing the favor of taking me home, so it's not like I'm in a position where I can complain if he was planning on going somewhere before meeting me here.

The stranger smiles happily when I say I don't mind it, showing what I think is a hint of a dimple on his right cheek. And before I can process the features of his face, he starts taking his leather jacket off, back to looking exactly like he did when we were both inside.

I'm about to ask him what he's doing, but before the question leaves my lips, I feel his warm jacket covering my exposed arms and hanging heavily on my shoulders. He's driving me home and also giving me his jacket. I was the one who was stupid today, and it's totally deserved if I catch a cold.

—You don't have to. Really —I insist, attempting to take the jacket off.

He walks, not even bothering to look at me as he approaches a black motorbike that's placed near the entrance of the pub -and that I don't remember it was there when I arrived earlier this evening.

—You'll need it —he assures.

Oh, he has the whole bad boy package. I see.

I make my way to him, approaching the intimidating motorbike, shyly. The weight on my shoulders disappears momentarily, when he grabs the flaps of the jacket and raises it up slightly.

—It'll get even colder when you get on —he justifies.

Considering this is probably the first real contact I've had with someone of the opposite sex, and that's not part of my circle of friends or from work, without looking like the dumbest around, I'm proud of myself and how I'm dealing with all of this.

With his help, I put the jacket on, and the weight of it is now divided between my shoulders and my arms -that are totally covered by the sleeves that now hang at the tip of my fingers. 

He hops on it with grace, accommodating on the seat so I have enough room to sit right behind him. Letting out a sigh, I lift my left leg and move it over the motorbike until my feet touches the pavement on the other side. I move myself as far as I can from him, feeling unstable and unsure of this. 

—You should get closer —his dark eyes pierce at me over his shoulder.

I slide over the seat, until my chest rests against his back and my legs are glued to his. Once the engine roars and sounds vibrations through my body, I unconsciously brace myself to him, wrapping my arms around his torso. His laugh vibrates through his body to mine, and I'm unsure of whether he finds me cute or pathetic at this point.

—Where are the helmets? 

—What about them? —he questions back, giving me a funny look before he turns back to the front.

Okay, good. I'm dying tonight.

The muscles on his back tense and relax, as he moves his arms and legs to move the motorbike away from the pavement and back to the road. And it's the exact same way while he's driving it. How relaxed and confident he is would make me feel relaxed if I weren't scared of falling when I least expect it. I hug him tight whenever I feel the motorbike bending more than it should, and I close my eyes to avoid seeing everything while the cold breeze is freezing my face right now. If you don't have money for Botox, then riding a motorbike when it's just six degrees will definitely do the work.

The roar of his motorbike stops all of sudden, and I don't feel it moving anymore. So I dare myself to open my eyes slightly, finding us in front of a tattoo studio. The neon lights are turned off, but I can still see the pink dark tones on the letters.

With a swing of his leg, he places the motorbike stand and hops off.

—You look good on it —he says while looking at me. 

I then realize I'm taking too long to get off it, and with his help, I finally stand on safe ground again.

—You work here? 

As if the tattoos on his right arm and the piercings on his lip and ears weren't a huge give away, he nods and smiles before opening the door. He assures me it'll be fast while he closes the door behind me and heads to one of the rooms.

I don't even know his name, yet here I am, waiting in a dark place, while there's no one outside nor in here. I'm doing absolutely everything I shouldn't be doing.

I move around the place, seeing some of the designs hanging on the walls behind the counter, at least I see as much as I'm allowed to by the lights from the street. Under each one of the designs, there are some names that keep repeating. Jungkook, Leslie and Mark are the ones that appear the most, with four or five designs each. The works are diverse, all drawn with different techniques and styles. 

—You like them? 

His voice on my back makes me jump. It was all silent, I didn't hear him approaching me.

—They're cool. Which ones are yours?

He points to those designs signed by Jungkook. Yeah, his style is way too diverse to try and label it. He goes from dark and creepy drawings, to a romantic and delicate rose. 

While I'm busy admiring his work, his hand rests on the crystal counter filled with different piercings, and suddenly I think he's way too close. I turn around slowly, facing that same sided smile he was throwing at me back in the pub. His free hand goes over my ear, and when it's back on sight, he's carrying a condom between his fingers.

Can't believe he pulled the old coin trick with a condom. 

—Seriously? —I raise my eyebrow.

—Oh c'mon, what are you here for then?

—A ride back home? —I reply as if it were obvious.

—So you eye me for almost an hour, playing that interesting and mysterious game, agree on me taking you home, although you don't even know my name... And all you wanted is a ride back home?

—Yes —I push him away—. When did I ever imply I'd fuck with you? And here? —I look around.

At most, I only wanted to get his number after he dropped me off. 

I see him slide his tongue through his cheek, the bulge on his face moving slowly until it reaches the corners of his mouth. He's clearly pissed off.

—Do you realize I ignored a possible good fuck for you? 

—And what the fuck do I have to do with it? You were the one who followed me outside.

—Because you kept checking me out and thought you were interested —he sighs, letting out a slow laugh—. But you were only being a cocktease.

That comment is the last straw before I take his jacket off and throw it at his face. I've been called that way too many times by dudes that wouldn't understand why I didn't want to go further with them, and he isn't being an exception. 

—Fuck you —I spit, opening the door.

The cold air hits me again harder than ever. I was getting too used to that thick jacket around me and the warm weather inside the tattoo studio.

He doesn't reply back, he only looks away while his hands hang on both sides of his hips. Calling me a cocktease... Every single time I remember that word, my blood boils. And it just happens to go through my mind at the very same time I walk next to his motorbike. With anger clouding my mind, I lift my left leg and kick it against the deposit, on the opposite direction where is resting over the stand. 

I don't even wait to see it fall or see his reaction. Only thing I want right now is to go back home, and hope I can erase this shitty night from my memory. 

Like and comment for more!