Eventually, the steady rhythm of the ride shifted.The bike slowed, the engine’s growl deepening as Ender eased us off the highway and onto a smaller road.A few minutes later, he pulled into a lonely gas station with an attached diner, its sign glowing softly like a beacon in the night.
He rolled us up to a pump and cut the engine.
The sudden quiet rang in my ears.
I swung my leg over and hopped off, stretching my stiff muscles while Ender followed.He ran a hand through his hair and about melted me with the care in his eyes.“You doing okay?”he asked.
I laughed.“I’ve been on the back of a motorcycle since I was seven, Ender.I’m doing just fine.”
A slow smile tugged at his mouth.“Yeah.You are.”
He turned to fill the tank, and I leaned against the bike, watching him.There was something about the way he moved—confident, unhurried, and like he belonged wherever he stood.The light from the station cast soft shadows across his face, and I found myself just… appreciating the view.
When he finished, he looked over at me.“Hungry?”
I nodded.“Yeah.I could eat.”
“This place does a decent French dip,” he said.“And their apple pie’s legit.”
“Sounds good to me.”
He moved the bike away from the pump and parked near the front of the diner.I waited on the sidewalk, and then we walked inside together, hand in hand.
The diner was quiet.The gas station side was brightly lit, but the restaurant had softer lighting.Vinyl booths, a long counter, the smell of coffee and fried food hanging in the air.
There was a hostess stand by the door, but no one was there.
“Just grab a table wherever you want,” a voice called from in the kitchen.
We slid into a booth by the window, where we could see the bike parked just outside.
The waitress came out a moment later, younger than I’d expected—around our age, maybe.She smiled easily at us.“Hey,” she said.“What can I get you two to drink?”
“Just water for me,” I said.
“I’ll do a Coke,” Ender added.
She nodded.“I’ll grab those.Take a look at the menu.I recommend the French dip and the apple pie.”
She disappeared back into the kitchen.
I laughed softly.“You were right.”
He handed me a menu, but I shook my head.“I’m going with the French dip and apple pie.I’d be crazy not to.”
He smiled and set both menus aside.“Good call.”
He leaned back in the booth, stretching his long legs out beneath the table.
“You gonna tell me what happened in church, or am I gonna have to drag it out of you?”
He took a sip of his Coke when it arrived, buying himself a second.“Same thing that’s been happening in church lately,” he said before I could press.“A whole lot of talking.Not a lot of action.”
I stared at him, but the waitress was back.
We each ordered the French dip, fries, and apple pie.Once she left, I leaned forward.“Spill,” I said.
Ender sighed and ran a hand over his jaw.“Yogi’s still saying it’s not his guys.”