Then why was his gut churning? Why was he already dreading parting company with this man? What was it about Gene that pulled at him? He sighed and looked out the window, watching the few cars on the road andwondering what those people were doing. Guys out with their favorite gals, probably. Being happy and loving whom they wanted.
They reached the garage sooner than he hoped and Gene had him wait by the bike while he got the car situated in the bay. Within minutes, Gene was heading toward him, the garage door closed and his car safely tucked away for the night.
“That’s a cherry flip-top, Billy. Most of the 1950 Ford Club Coupes I have worked on have white interiors. I like the red and white combination in yours.”
“I didn’t pick it,” Billy confessed. “It was a graduation gift from my parents.”
“Wow. So, maybe he’s less of an ass than I thought?”
“No!” Billy cried out, a little too harshly. “I mean, he is…an ass.” Billy shrugged. “He hates me,” he admitted, whispering into the dark. “He only gave me the car because he gave my older brother one when he graduated.” His shoulders slumped. “My sister told me she heard my parents arguing about it and that he didn’t want to give me anything. Said I was an embarrassment to the family and…” His voice broke and he shrugged again. “Sorry. You don’t need to hear all my problems. I’m sure you want to get back to your plans.”
Gene was quiet as he swung his leg over the bike and waited for him to put the helmet on and get settled behind him. “Hold on tight, Billy. I want to deliver you in one piece,” he joked, but his voice sounded strained.
Billy slid his hands around Gene’s side until they met at the center of his waist. Gene reached down and cupped his big hand around Billy’s clasped ones and squeezed a little, sending heat spreading through his body. He leaned into Gene’s back and inhaled deeply as they merged onto the road.
He waited a minute before letting himself rest his head onto Gene’s back, loving the feeling of the bike vibrating beneath them, holding on tightly. He wondered how it would feel in Gene’s arms. Naked. Gene on top of him…inside him…oh, God.
Wanting to enjoy the last few minutes they had together, he let himself imagine, once again, they were together. That he was safe and loved. Gene shifted in his seat and he pressed back a little more into Billy. He froze. Should he move? His dick swelled and he worried Gene could feel it. But if he could, wouldn’t he have pulled forward by now? He tried not to panic.
They pulled up to the diner and Billy was dismayed to see how busy they were. Cars and teens were everywhere. Music from the jukebox inside spilled out of large speakers around the parking lot. It wasn’t that he minded crowds really, but he would rather be in the background, cooking for instance, than be part of the actual crowd. He sighed and forced himself to climb off.
“Thanks for everything, Gene.” He dared to take a glance at his face, but his eyes revealed nothing. “You…you went above and beyond, really.”
“No problem. I’ve got your number back at the garage and I’ll call you tomorrow with some information.”
Billy nodded and gave a little wave. “Bye.” He turned around. Come after me. Please. Billy didn’t want the evening to end, yet. He was reaching for the door handle when he heard his name.
“Billy!”
Nervously, he turned around to see Gene striding toward him. Oh my God, did my little prayer work?
“Um, hey,” he started, his eyes darting to the door behind Billy. “Sorry, but you’re still wearing my helmet.”
Shit. Of course he was. He blushed and pulled it off. “Sorry,” he mumbled.
“No problem. Talk to you tomorrow.”
Fuck! He couldn’t just let him walk away. “Gene?”
He turned around. “Yeah?”
“Want a chocolate malt? It’s the least I can do…” He gestured toward the diner.
“No thanks.”
“Sure? My sister would love to meet the man that got me on a motorcycle.” He laughed nervously.
His brow furrowed. “Your sister?”
“Yeah, Carolyn. She’s inside waiting—”
“Carolyn is your sister?” he interrupted, a grin spreading across his face. “I’d love to meet your sister.”
Billy grinned back, confused by Gene’s about-face, but happy he was staying. Gene reached around him and pulled the door open, ushering him inside.
The diner was loud and bustling with activity. Boys in letter jackets, girls in a myriad of sweaters andpoodle skirts, and even a family or two filled every available table and booth. Waitresses deftly movedamong them, delivering trays filled with burgers, fries, malts, and sundaes to their customers. Some kids hung around the jukebox, currently playing “Why Do Fools Fall in Love” by Frankie Lymon and The Teenagers.