Hello! Sorry for the chapter confusion before, but I fixed the titles. This is my first multi-chapter stories, and you guys have no idea how long it took me to figure out how to add on to existing stories. So bear with me!

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As Friday rolls around, I forget all the jittery nights I've spent hyped up on my seventh Red Bull, trying to gather more information for out paper, so that I can get in and get out of his house as quickly as I possible.

Because I am actually nervous.

Even though I don't technically know if there will be parents present, It doesn't seem like there would be.

Patrick doesn't seem like the type to have a Donna Reed look-alike mother who hovers around our study sessions and offers us brownies.

So as the clock changes to 12:04, and I swallow the dregs of my energy drink, I print out the finished outline for my paper, and stumble into my bed, letting the weights that have been attached to my eyelids for about 2 hours now pull my eyes, and my mind, closed.

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"Lets go." Is my greeting at 3:45, as I pack up my worn out messenger bag to the tune of slamming lockers and chattering morons.

"Hello to you too."

He takes my bag from me, and grabs my hand, nearly yanking it out of its socket in the process.

In my mind, I weigh the options: I can protest, kick and scream; or I can just roll with it, because the kicking and screaming probably won't faze him anyway.

I decided on option 3. "Why the sudden warmth?"

He smirks, turning his head to the side so I can see his strong profile and the adorable half grin that he's wearing. "We have a lot of work to do."

Little does he know…

He is pulling me towards his bike.

"Oh no." I say, digging my heels into the ground, but the flat souls of my boots slip away quickly.

"How else are we going to get there?"

I look at him like he's joking. "My car."

He returns my skepticism in the form of an eyebrow raise.

"It might not be as snazzy as this," I wave my arms to the motorcycle he is now perched casually on, a helmet in his outstretched hand. "But it will do just fine."

Getting off the shiny hunk of black metal, he lets out a sigh, like the task is just too much for him. He stands about 1 inch from and, making the height difference between us even more pronounced, and pushing the helmet onto my head. "Don't tell me you've never wanted to ride a motorcycle."

"I have…never wanted to ride a motorcycle." I think the pause was purposeful. I want him to want me to ride behind him, holding on to him for dear life.

"Get on the bike."