Kill Switch by Penelope Douglas

But then something occurred to me. What if he didn’t want
his friends to see me? What if he had a girlfriend?
Nope. Don’t do it. He came to me. He found me. He
brought me out. I wasn’t going to look for excuses to end the
night.
In no time at all, the door opened, but this time it was my
door.
“Let’s go,” he said, taking my hand.
“Where?” I climbed out, following him.
“To see black.”
See black? I loved his imagination.
Confused but intrigued, I remained quiet as I followed him
down the street, hearing the sizzling sound of a neon sign with
the smell of pizza damn near making me moan with hunger.
Sticks. We were across from the park in the town square right
in front of a local hangout. A bar that admitted minors,
because it had bands and pool tables, so really, people of all
ages could be found there. Is that where he ran to a moment
ago?
He held something up to me, and I took it, turning it
around in my hands and finally realizing it was a helmet.
A helmet?
I heard something move, a key being inserted, and I
hesitated a moment, because I was in sleep shorts, and if we
fell, I’d have no clothing protecting my legs, my most prized
possessions on which I trusted my future in dance.
I groaned to myself. As long as he didn’t expect me to
drive, I guess…
Fastening the strap of the half helmet under my chin, I held
onto his arm as he helped me climb on behind him. It was a
little chilly, and the wind might be too brisk. I brushed the
back of his head with my hand, feeling that he wasn’t wearing
a helmet at all.
“Whose bike is this?” I asked.