16. Helmet
"Are you positive?"
"Do you trust me?" Will's eyes met hers and she wriggled, desperately wishing he hadn't picked that question. Of all the questions, he knew the one that would pull her heartstrings. Of course, she trusted him. This wasn't about trusting him. This was about trusting…that.
"Elizabeth, I wouldn't ask you to do anything that wasn't safe."
"But…"
"Elizabeth." Will raised an eyebrow.
"Will," she half-wined, hating that she sounded like a five year old but unable to give a more logical answer.
"Come on."
Elizabeth fought the sinking realization that she would agree with him and stubbornly held off for another long, drawn-out moment.
"Come on, Elizabeth." Will leaned back on the motorcycle and patted the seat behind him. The helmet in his other hand was held out and she felt another nagging tug to agree, courtesy of her adventurous side.
"Ten minutes. That's all." She took the proffered helmet and jammed it onto her head. "Next time I want to see Phantom of the Opera at the Theatre there will be no complaints."
"Not a word."
"Really?"
"Not even about the warble in their voices."
"Oh, bother." Elizabeth huffed. If he would give up his teasing for a whole night, she could stand a few minutes on a motorcycle.
His eyes gleamed as she stepped up behind him and slid her arms around his waist. "Ready?"
Elizabeth set her chin on his broad shoulder. "Do I have to answer?"
"Generally an answer is required for a question." He winked and revved the engine. "I'll make an exception this time."