I think my sly replying text was clever. If she thinks my parent's have the flu, and that I have to stay in West Brooke, she'll never expect for me to pop in tonight. I've decided to face the elephant that's always been in any room we've been in, and tell her how I really feel. Just lay it all out on the table, if she doesn't feel the same; that'll rip my heart out. I stop at a gas station and fill up the tank on my bike, my helmet catches on my ear's as I pull it off. I sit the helmet on the seat and saunter into the store. As the mile's get longer behind me, and the city comes closer on the road, the confidence in me is slowly dying. Each mile marker clipping a piece of it while I zoom past it. A fast gas stop should clear my head, talking to a human instead of being in your own head tends to help the beating voice that tells you to 'turn around, just turn back. She'll tear you apart!'

I pay for my fuel along with a bottle of water before hitting the road again. Fifty miles.

Loose gravel and dirt cloud behind me. Ignoring the mile marker, I punch it, if I don't get there soon I may just chicken out. Just see her when she comes for Thanksgiving, greet her with a tender hug while inhaling her scent. As I always have, there is something about the smell of someone you love that's warming, comforting like a baby blanket. But no, I have to do this. No turning back now.

I go over what I've planned on telling her in my head as the tip of the New York City skyline creeps in the distance like a silhouette of towering metal tree's. In the past few week's I've rehearsed in the mirror of my bathroom, sometimes in the shower. She has to accept my honesty, I don't think I will survive her rejection. The strong vibration beneath me from the engine pulses through me, it pumps me back up. I give my hand a turn, the motor rev's, and the speed climb's. I pass car after car, giving a glance to the small children in the back seat's. Their faces brighten at the sight of the roaring motorcycle, slapping at their sibling's to look at me. I smile wide at them, and hold out my hand giving a tiny wave. I then pull on the handle bar's and pop a small wheelie. Riding it like a wave past the car, I imagine the kid's giving me their cheer's behind me.

I weave in and out of traffic like a sailing jet. Seamless, and smooth until I take the exit as commanded by my GPS. Behind my leather jacket, my chest begins to beat faster, and the faster so I pull over into a parking lot. I remove my helmet and gloves, and place my boot's on the ground. The solidity of the concrete grounds me, I pinch at my nose, forgetting everything I've said time and time again. My mind races as the situation becomes clear, I'm here. She's just a few minutes away. I've been in her presence so many time's, that it's foreign being away from her. But right now, my palm's moisten as I imagine just seeing her face. I've never missed anyone so much that it actually hurt, and I'm aching. All over, my body hurts.

I bow my head, clasp my slick hand's, and begin to pray for the stength it will take to get there without stopping again, then for more strength to speak a sentence when I gaze into those icy blue's that trap me like a prisoner of passion and romantic daydream.

I get back to the set course, this time sucking it up until I get to her campus. Completely ignoring the spectacle of the busy city. I arrive at Turner University just as the sun sinks behind the highrises, the gloomy dark cloud's over my head linger, waiting to release it's soaking drops. I hum my bike down the chessboard of street's that make up the giant campus, I stop and ask a girl struggling with her backpack where the coffee shop is, and if I can give her a lift, nodding to the strap over her shoulder that hang's by thread's.

The girl tells me no, that her stop is just around the corner. I give a shrug and follow her direction. I pull to the curb just across the street from her new job, I keep my helmet on and stare into the large window's. I peer my eye's around the big sign on the glass, and there; just behind the the swooping L of Lava's Java, Chloe's blonde hair shines. Bobbing in and out from behind the concealing letter. I cut of the engine, kick the stand out, and tuck my helmet under my arm. I look both way's while I cross the street.

A tiny bell chime's at the top of the door as I slowly push it open. There's a crowd, and a long line to the counter. Chloe buzz's with energy as she fill's cup's, and takes order's. Nothing like the slower pace of the small town diner my parent's own. Where old timer's sit at the same table every morning, chain smoking, sipping black coffee, and talking about the good old day's. Every couple minutes I step closer and closer, I grab a newpaper when I make it next to a table with the Times on top, and cover my face as she takes the order of the fellow in front of me. My pulse getting a little antsy, it beat's into my ear's, I can feel my cheek's starting to burn. The guy in front of me, I can see the top of his head when I pull the edge of the paper down just a tad. He seems to be bent over the counter, whispering into her ear.

Chloe's hair cover's her face, so I can't see the expression she holds. Finally the guy stands back tall, and walk's away without any coffee. Strange.

I stand at the wooden bar counter, she's turned away. I keep the paper up, just below my eye's. Chloe turn's around, where I wanted to see bright cheerful blue eye's, are puffy and pink. Has she been crying? Behind the covering newspaper I smile so big it hurt's my cheek bones.

"What can I get ya?" She asks not looking up from the bar top she's wiping with a damp rag. When I don't answer she look's up to me. I pull the paper down, with a goofy smile across my face, pulling my shoulder's up in a 'Surprise!'

Her pink eye's widen, and swim with tear's. Her mouth open's wide, gaping, and speachless.

"M'Lady." I bow with closed lid's. I stand back upright and place my hand's on the counter top, "Now you didn't think I would let you down...Did you?" I smile again, struggling to fight back to urge to walk around the counter and kiss her, right there in front of the crowd, publicly proclaiming my love.

"You came!" She hops, and peer's behind me at the growing line. "Jack!" She calls to the door behind the bar. A guy covered in tattoo's and burning red hair pop's his head out, "Yeah?" He says.

"Can you cover me just a second?"
Jack come's out of the back room and pat's her on the back, "Sure thing." His stout British accent chime's with a grin. Chloe come's around the corner, and takes my hand into her's. She look's out the window like she's looking for something, trying to spot it with darting eye's. After not finding whatever it is she leads me to the back of the place to a small two person booth in a dark corner. She slides in on the other side of he table from me, and takes my hand's again, holding them tight as if I might float away if she doesn't hold on.

"I'm so happy to see your face." She cups my cheek. I could melt into a puddle in her hand.
"Likewise. I've missed having my best friend around." Not now, it has to be perfect. I push back the word's that sit on the tip of my lip's, daring to take flight.
"When do you get off? I'm checking into a hotel a few block's away from here, do you want to go eat when your shift is over?"
Chloe fidgeting on her side of the booth, she keep's peeking over my shoulder. I turn, but I can't tell who she's looking at.

"Are you okay?" I ask, now concerned.
"What?" She look's back to me, "Oh, sorry. Yeah, I'm just worried about, Jack and that terrible line. I don't know how you deal with angry costumer's at the diner, and these New Yorker's get so angry sometime's."  She laugh's, "I get off in two hour's. How about I just come to your room, and we'll do takeout." She offers.

"Sound's good to me." I smile. The dooming line of costumer's urge, Chloe back to her duties. I stand and hug her tightly to my chest, and breathe in deep. Like trying to capture air in a jar for later use. I tell her goodbye, and walk outside to my bike. Before throwing my leg over the seat I stop to take another look at the girl I adore. The girl I'm about to pour my heart out to.

I will marry that girl one day. I think while stomping the bike into it a roar, and driving away.

***

The Hotel New York is what I would call a shabby chic motel. When the rich come from all over the world they might stay in luxury, towering over the skyline. I however am not one of those people, so the low budget room will do for a couple of day's. Besides, I'm not here for the room, I'm here for Chloe. I climb the step's from the lobby to the third floor to room eighty-nine, holding in my hand only a small duffle bag and my helmet. I stop just inside the door surveying the room. Not bad really, it could be worse. It could have turned out to be one of those motel's that charge by the hour, where the roach's can carry off your possesion's.

A single queen bed takes up the middle of the room, along with a desk and lamp from the seventies era. I sit my bag on the desk, and take my notes out of the side pocket. I read over them, lying on my back on the old bed. I've loved you from the moment I met you, I just didn't know it until I kissed you. Sappy, and honest. I blow off a little steam by taking to the floor, I breathe out slowly as I raise my chest from the carpet, then turn over and do crunches until my side sting's. Grunting, gritting my teeth, pushing away any negative that's rising within my mind.

The tub's faucet rumbles, followed by brown tinged water, it spit's out of the spout. It sputter's until the water run's clear and steaming. I pull the tab up and the shower fall's on top of my head so I jump back, laughing at the surprising wetness. I strip my clothes and step in, the water rushes over my chest, it turns pink under the heat. I lather from head to toe, the mega white bubbles make my dark tone skin look even darker. They tickle as they swim down my back to my feet, and then down the drain. I dry off, and pull on a black sweater, tight jean's that might I say, make my ass look amazing. I comb my hair carefully to the side as I had on New Years Eve, I spritz a subtle cologne into the air infront of me and walk into it. A tip my father taught me. I lean into the mirror inspecting my teeth, like a goofy snarl. As if caught in the embarrassing act I jump at the sound of the knocking door.

I straighten up, and take a deep breath holding the door knob. I swing it open.

"Can I help you?" I ask the guy at the door, who's clearly not who I thought it would be.
The guy just stands there, glaring at me.
"Okay... well, goodbye then..." I start to close the door, but the guy slam's his palm into it bringing it to a stiff halt. He leans close to my face, nose to nose, "Stay the fuck away from, Chloe." He growl's. My face burns hot, and scarlett. I stiffen my chest, and tighten my fist's.  Who is this guy?

"I don't know who you are," I narrow my brow, "but you don't want this fight, mother fucker."
The unwanted guest smirk's only a little.
"Is that a threat?" He laugh's.

"That's a promise."

Sorry for the harsh cursing. With rage boiling through him I feel that Zen would use the exact phrase. Don't forget to vote, and leave your thoughts in the comments :)