Fireworks

I’ve always been one of those girls who is lead by her heart, not her head.  Show me a sexy bike and I want to ride it and feel the wind in my hair.  Helmet?  Those just get in the way of a good time.  Consequences will come later.

The same has proved true in my love life.  When I met Mr. Perfect I was just coming out of what had been my longest relationship up until that point.  I had been with Mr. Meek for a year and he had surprised me by taking me engagement ring shopping. 

I wasn’t ready to get married, I was only nineteen.  I was a sophomore in college, going to conquer the world.  I hadn’t picked a major, but that didn’t matter, I was going to be rich and successful.  I didn’t need a husband tying me down.

At that time I was working at a local video store.  I still remember the first time Mr. Perfect walked in.  I first noticed the motorcycle helmet tucked under his arm.  The armor in his breath-through jacket made him look broad shouldered and muscular.  His black hair was tousled and it curled around the base of his neck. 

His eyes were so green they reminded me of fresh limes and his mouth twisted in a crooked little smile when I flirted with him.  I asked him what he rode before he left the store.  Triumph TT600.  It sounded sexy.

That should have been my last night at that store.  My mother’s divorce was final and with my father out of the picture, I moved back in with her and transferred to a store closer to her house.  I worked there for a week before I got a call from my old store asking me to fill in for a night.  Someone had quit and they were short handed.  I could always use overtime, so I agreed.