Page 67 of Tony

“Mmm.” He tilts his head back and forth like he’s thinking. Then he gets to his feet, grabs the second helmet, tosses it to me—I catch it—and says, “Get on my ride and see.”

He nods his head towards his bike. All the Vaughn brothers have very nice bikes. They are all custom. Their brother-in-law is Spencer Shrike, after all, who might be the most famous person in this whole town. But they didn’t let Spencer build these bikes. They built them themselves. Spencer’s shop just does the paint.

It occurs to me that knowing this about them is also part of that special love I can’t seem to describe.

I start to slide the helmet on, but Vaughn crosses the distance between us and puts a hand on my shoulder. “Hold on. You can’t go like that.”

“Like what?” I look down at myself. “I have jeans on. I should be fine.”

“No, Belinda. Your hair. You have to tie it up or it’s gonna get all tangled.”

“Oh. Right.”

“You don’t know that because we’ve never been on a ride together before.”

“Hmm. I guess I never thought about it before.”

He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a hair tie. “Come and sit on the porch.”

I cock my hip and tilt my head. Trying to hide a smile. “Why?”

“You’ll see.” He takes my free hand and leads me over to the porch. “You sit there.” He points to the bottom step.

I sit. And then he sits on the step directly behind me and starts gathering up my hair.

“What the hell are you doing?” I laugh.

“Tying up your hair.”

I bite my lip. Probably blush, too. And then his fingers are dividing my hair up into sections and it feels so—different? Good? Both?—I almost want to close my eyes.

Then I realize what he’s doing. “Are you… braiding it?” I laugh. “Where the hell did you learn to do that?”

“I have nieces, remember? Rory used to make me play hair salon with her before Ariel was old enough to take my place. She taught me all the skills.”

I giggle like an idiot as I picture Vann dutifully playing hair salon with his niece. But then the sensation of him doing my hair—the spring air, the warm sun, the upcoming ride on his bike—it’s all so delicious, I settle in and just enjoy it.

This could be the last time I have him this way.

We will date. I realize that now. There’s no other way forward, except for me to move out of their garage and start all over again. And I’m not fool enough to do that. So we will date.

And who knows what happens after that?

It could all explode tomorrow.

It’s not even up to me. Saying I will date him isn’t the solution. Just because we date doesn’t mean we fall in love. The future doesn’t come with a guarantee.

Well. Maybe one guarantee.

Nothing will ever be the same again. That’s the only thing I know for sure.

So I enjoy this. I enjoy every moment of it.

He takes his time braiding my hair. Like he’s enjoying this just as much as I am. And when he’s done, he fastens the elastic band and pulls a ribbon out of his pocket, showing it to me in the palm of his hand. It’s black satin and has little skulls printed down the length of it.

I recognize it because we sell them in the shop.

“Can I use this as the finishing touch, Belinda?”