So, she stood there waiting for the bus to take her home after an exhaustive hour, when she heard the insanely violent raging bike sound of her nomad, she wanted to become invisible for a while. The sound was coming towards her in a great speed as if to engulf her in its intensity. She closed her eyes for a while, and he stood in front of her, clad entirely in black biker attire, and without even taking off his helmet - that denied her any chance to read his expression – beckoned her towards his bike, to ride as his pillion, and he decides for how long and that’s what irks her. 

She wants to say no, but she is afraid, he might ride along without a thought, so she got up to the bike. Her hair, tied fiercely in a knot, defiant to the hilt, refused to be overwhelmed and brought her a semblance of control on the situation she was facing. Her dupatta, however, was not up to the game, it has to learn, she thought, while the bike vroomed it’s was ahead.

Again, they were not talking much, since they could not have been audible to each other, and probably that’s the point to his ferocious acceleration. He gave her a helmet to cover her head, which she took with the least possible fuss and wondered where they were heading. They are racing away on a huge barren land, devoid of human presence, not caring to check the speed, he never did anyway. Now that the initial nerves of the ride have settled, they settled into a rhythmic ride, but she couldn’t control the mystery behind the ride to the unknown. 

So, she asked him – Damn, she thought, always the first to ask – where and why are we going, she knew he would be cocky, ready with a smart-ass rejoinder, and she was right. Why do you care, he got back and had the nerve to ask her - or it was just a rhetoric question – if she was enjoying the ride. She didn’t let him know. He knew it. Her dupatta flew away. She pointed towards it, and he laughed it away. It traversed a path as uncertain as the one that they are taking. 

He took another turn, and a long narrow road, the longest she has seen, lay in front of her, curving seductively, probably a national highway, she thought. Unlikely, she couldn’t find anyone else travelling alongside. Probably a dream, likely but fatuous, in its convenience. No point asking him, no point trying to figure, no point beating around the bush. Then he stopped. The bike looks as if it still didn’t come to rest completely, leaving smoke and feeling like an oven. If it had a voice, she thought, both of them would have asked the same things.

They were in the middle of nowhere. He asked her to get down. No point arguing. It is how it is always with him. He parked the bike carefully, as if he was trying to make her envious about the attention he is proffering it with. She didn’t mind it, she was past those games. He took off his helmet, to reveal his handsome face, sunburnt after all the driving, revealing a mop of hair falling carelessly across his face, he knew she wanted to touch it. He didn’t give her a moment. He said the words, throwing them recklessly around, it’s his way to mean them, to look as if he doesn’t give a damn, as if he was saying this is how it will be with him, as if she didn’t know it. She knew he said, and he knew it too. And then he left. 

His bike left wild fumes again as it raced away from her, leaving her all along, stranded on a road that she never saw. She didn’t know what to do, but she understood what happened, and glad that it did. She knew what to do, where to go, where to find him. She didn’t feel alone when she started her journey again. It will be a long one but a worthy one.

He woke up to find himself near a petrol bunk, where he slept last night on the side of the road. Thanking the owner of the bunk for letting him sleep for the night, he wasted no time and raced his way back to her.

It’s a Yes. She snuggled closer towards him. 

***

This post is written for Closeup Cupid Games hosted by Indiblogger Happy Hours 

***
PS: This story is inspired by the below song: