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Blue lights reflected off the back of Neferpitou’s helmet, flashing rapidly on the shining surface.
“Neferpitou?” Kite asked, not quite daring to peek over his shoulder lest he send them both flying into a fiery demise.
“Mhmmm?” Came Neferpitou’s voice, faint as it was snatched away by the wind.
“Are we being chased by the police?
There was a moment of silence, and then; “Would it make you feel better if I said no, Kite?”
“Yes, I suppose.”
“Then no.” Pitou replied tersely. “Now close your eyes.”
…………..
Kite did as Pitou asked, tightening his grip ever so slightly around their waist, bodysuit squeaking against his jacket. He could feel the stomach-forward pull of acceleration as the bike shot forward.
Vrooom. Click. Third gear.
Vroooooooooom. Click. Fourth.
Vroooooom. Click. Vrooooooooooom. Blat blat. Click.
How many gears does this goddamn thing have?
Years later, once the two had married, long after his fears had lessened (though they never did quite fade away completely); he would be able to recite from memory the model of their sportsbike. "A Honda CBR660, custom." He would drone in grocery lines, at banks, at the mechanic Neferpitou favored. That was later. Years later.
Now? All he knew was that this was their first date, and that the monstrous dragon of plastic and churning metal seemed only to be a living, gnashing thing. He squeezed himself tighter against Neferpitou's back, hunching low, his helmet catching the wind.
He wondered if he would get a second date.