J is for Joyride

JApril settled onto the seat, thighs gripping hips. “Where do I put my feet?”

Zach moved her sneakers onto the foot pegs. “Here.”

“I don’t want to go home,” she blurted. Was it ridiculous to think they’d shared more than a kiss? To feel…that pressed against her; she had a different kind of control now. Didn’t she?

The engine roared to life. “You sure—”

“Just take me to the Fillin’ Station. I want a candy bar.” She snuggled in tighter, wrapped her arms around his stomach.

His laugh rumbled against her chest. “Alright…”

He tapped the gear and pulled off the shoulder, momentum reeling. She screamed and squeezed him tighter, trying to regain equilibrium through her belly laugh. She nuzzled into his neck and let his curls tickle her face. Green and brown blurred past, the only smell his skin and sweat. Trees cleared and her head fell back to endless, pure blue. Heaven warmed her face and stung her eyes; she was wired to the sky.



They bombed the last hill, so fast her cheeks rippled. Laughter became hysteria in her terror; too much and not enough at once. Her heart skipped. Her imagination soared.

When the gas station came into view, spirits plummeted with the breeze. Slow, humid air replaced christening wind. Muscles relaxed and bodies separated, appropriate for public scrutiny. Zach made a wide circle in the parking lot, ready to take off as soon as she dismounted.

“You better get that bag to your brother, though.” He scratched his nose and stifled a chuckle.

“Really?” April held the backpack away from her, as if she’d only just noticed it. “Why?”

Zach shrugged. “Not my place to say.” He leaned in for one last kiss and she forgot about her brother.


This flash fiction is a part of the Blogging From A to Z (April 2015) Challenge. A new installment arrives every day in April, following the alphabet; check the calendar below to see which letters post on which days. Read more about this blogfest HERE.


19 thoughts on “J is for Joyride

  1. Yum! Early in our marriage, we rode a lot. Then, after a trip up to mountain logging roads, and then a way too fast trip on a state route- the front tire blew out, and that was the last time I rode…

    I want to know more. I may need to go forward, and back… =)

      1. Bad enough. My Accomplice didn’t stop riding (he’s been on motorcycles since he was 6). A few years ago, though, he hit a deer on his way home from work (he’s a chef, so comes home late). He broke 8 ribs, collapsed a lung, lacerated his spleen, and snapped a ligament in his finger. He was airlifted to the hospital, where he spent 10 days. He doesn’t ride nearly so often, anymore…

        Which is something of a relief to the wife who loves him, and the kids who love him!

      2. We have something strange in common then: my husband and I were in a very bad accident together (not a bike but a jeep). The jeep was totaled and so was I, almost. Hubby had a bruise on his shin. Pray the gods don’t drop the other anvil!

      1. You’re doing a wonderful job of writing the scenes in only 300 words…well done! I need to get to writing everyday too. I did Nanowrimo last year which kept me thinking and writing.

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