Page 148 of Bend

“I meant that I appreciate your ability to speak motorcycle.”

“I race them, wouldn't it be weird if I couldn't?."

He walks off.

Reign is next and somehow manages to be even more specific, giving me click counts from what he remembers running back home and exactly where this bike feels different, while Thorne arrives halfway through with his arms folded and a scowl aimed directly at his machine.

I glance at him. “What did it do?”

“It’s shit.”

I stop writing. “Helpful.”

“You asked.”

“I asked what it did, not for a review.”

Thorne points at the bike like he’s presenting evidence in court. “Front’s lazy as fuck. Feels like I’m asking the miserable bastard politely to turn and it’s considering whether it can be arsed.”

I bite back a smile. “Translation?”

“It pushes wide when I load it on entry, especially through the slower stuff. Takes too much effort to get the cunt onto a line, then once it’s there, it’s all right.”

“There, see. Look at that. Actual information.”

“Could’ve worked it out from ‘it’s shit,’ couldn’t you?”

“No, because unlike Peckham, motorcycles don’t respond to verbal abuse.”

His mouth twitches as he leans a little closer over the bench. “You sure about that? Seems to work on you.”

I look up slowly. “Careful.”

“Why?” His eyes drag over my face, amusement turning into something warmer. “You gonna punish me?”

My stomach does an incredibly unhelpful little flip.

I point the pen toward the changing area before he can enjoy that too much. “Go get changed.”

“Yes, boss.”

“Don’t call me that.”

His grin turns filthy. “Touchy this morning, ain’t we?”

“You keep looking at me like that and you’re going to miss your session.”

“Worth it.”

I bite back a smile. “Fuck off, Thorne.”

He backs away still watching me, smug bastard. “See you later, boss.”

I throw the pen at him.

He ducks it, laughing all the way toward the changing area.

I shake my head and turn back to the bike before he can come up with anything else.