Love Changes Everything Pt. 02: Revealed

All of my writing is fiction and the stories and characters are all products of my imagination. They were created for my fun and, hopefully, your enjoyment. Some of the events in the stories are not particularly condoned nor encouraged by the author but are there to create and enhance the story of the imaginary characters and their lives. Comments are always encouraged and carefully reviewed. All characters within the story that need to be are 18 years of age or older. Hope you enjoy!

This is the second part of a three-part story about Freya and the beginning of her sophomore year at college. It involves her family and some of the men she meets, the difficult decisions involved with that, and the results of those decisions. Part two will be published in about ten days and part three ten days after that. Feel free to leave comments. I use them to help with future stories.

*****

At school early, Freya spent an hour studying, then decided to text Jarrod, thinking a while about what to say. She decided a short apology might be in order, along with a little humor.

Jarrod so sorry again about the other day. Let's have lunch at the same time and place today, my treat. I'll skip wonderful fries as penance for my behavior.

She sent the text and went back to her studies, knowing that it might be a while before she got an answer. Her eyes had barely focused on the first page before her phone buzzed. She grabbed it and looked.

will b there but only if u eat fries

She replied.

deal

She finished studying, went to class, and finally to the Burgermeister Room to wait for Jarrod, who didn't keep her waiting long.

"Hi," he said, his huge, warm smile swallowing her.

"Hello. Sit down and I'll g-get the food if you're happy w-with what we had the last time."

"You just sit there," he said, holding out his hand. "Give me the money, and I'll get the lunch."

She handed him the change from AutoZone; he gave most of it back to her and headed for the ordering counter. Freya debated about what to say when he returned. Finally decided, she watched him winding his way around the tables, carefully balancing the food tray. She was anxious to dig into the fries again. Jerrod sat down, looking at her carefully, perhaps apprehensively.

"To respond to wh-what you asked the other day, the dinner went well, my b-brother and I sang, and he proposed to his girlfriend. It was mostly a good evening."

"Not sure I like your shirt today," he laughed.

She looked down, not sure which one she'd worn; plus she was reading it upside-down. Dating tip ? Don't. She couldn't help but laugh. This wasn't a date, but the idea was certainly there. With what had happened with Grig, she wasn't certain she was interested in a date with Jerrod. She was tempted to say she had picked it just for today but quickly decided that might be a little over-the-top. Instead, she took a bite of her burger, which was good, but not quite up to the standard the fries set.

"Listen," Jarrod said, putting two fries in his mouth, "I'm glad everything went okay last night, and I'm anxious to hear you sing." He raised his eyebrows in a smile.

"You're willing t-to risk me getting angry again?" she teased.

"Worth the risk," he answered, "and thanks for lunch." He held his burger up toward her. I think you look great in a T-shirt."

She felt her cheeks reddening again. "Thanks. You're very kind. That's normal for me, instead of being a little formal."

"Your normal, instead of formal, huh? You should be a poet."

She laughed, thinking back to what Flint had said to her just a while ago. "If I were, I wouldn't be p-popular since rhyming is kind of something from the past these days."

"I don't know. Have you ever tried it, rhyming poetry?"

A bit of a questioning frown from Freya. "Never, except when I was nine or ten, I guess, and reading Dr. Seuss."

"I had to write a couple for an English class. It was harder than I thought it might be. It's hard to make the lines rhyme, make sense, and sound like natural language, so readers almost forget that it's rhyming. Mine weren't very good."

"I think that makes sense. I've heard people say that writing poetry is a craft if it's done correctly." Freya had enjoyed studying certain poetry in her English classes; others of it, she had detested.

"A lot of rhyming poetry is also form poetry; it follows a pattern of some kind that has to be adhered to, so there's a craft involved in doing that. After I tried to do that, and couldn't, I started reading some things by the good poets. I like Robert Frost, really well."

"I remember some things from Frost that I-I studied in English class. The Lockless Door was my favorite, p-probably because it was so simple."

"One of mine too," Jarrod replied. But Freya could tell he was pondering something and wondered whether it might be coming her direction.

"I'm going to say two things, the first to get ready for the second," he laughed.

Freya looked at him with one eye half-closed, Bolluca Escort ready for whatever he might say. She was afraid he was going to ask her for a date, and she had no reply prepared for that.

"First, you don't have any idea how many times I sat in that Starbucks watching you and Amber drinking coffee and talking. I, well, I just couldn't take my eyes off you."

"That's twice you've embarrassed me n-now," she said, smiling at him, but enjoying his words. It wasn't how she thought of herself but to have someone else say it was very nice.

"The second is," and he hesitated a moment, mid-sentence, "does your mother bother you like that, about your, um, stuttering?" He had said it and looked ready for whatever.

"Let me ask you first, w-what do you think about it?" After all the years of stuttering, she had gotten a little more comfortable talking about it with others.

Caught unaware, Jerrod thought for a moment. "I love it," he said. "It just makes you special and different than anyone else I know."

"You d-don't know anyone else that stutters?"

"In elementary school, there were a couple, a boy and a girl, I think. But nothing since. Until you."

A lot more relaxed about it now, Freya decided to continue what she had started.

"To answer your question, yes, my mother de-detests it. She has always finished sentences for me if I'd stumble a little t-too long. She wouldn't let me talk at all s-some places, and I would never order . . ." Her mouth was working, and she was trying, but that word wouldn't come out, as always. "What I was drinking yesterday," she finished, trying to smile.

"Cappuccino?"

"Yes, I can't say that, and Amber s-said it for me yesterday, to keep me from looking silly in f-front of you."

"Are there other words you can't say?"

She lowered her head and raised her eyebrows, grinning at him.

"Oh, shit. What a stupid question. I'm sorry. Maybe I should stick to embarrassing you about how pretty you are and leave the rest alone."

"You think that?" she questioned. Jarrod's easy manner had her more relaxed as well.

"Oh my gosh. My last girlfriend was a redhead too, but not like you for sure."

The "too" he had added was bouncing around in her head. Was he considering her as a girlfriend already? He seemed like a nice guy, but it was a little early. She was twenty and not entirely heading over the hill yet, so she should have a few options left. And there was Grig. Yes, Grig.

"There are t-two words. I'll give you hints, and you can guess."

Jarrod nodded.

"What you get from the professor to t-turn in tomorrow."

"Um ...assignment?"

"Yes, and something you look forward t-to, in the future."

"Um, no idea on that one."

"Ex ..." she began. "Ex ... pe ..." It was better than she usually did with that one.

"Expectations?"

"Good one. Yeah, s-silly, right?"

"Not silly at all. I'll remember and try never to have you need to say them. Assignment, or expectations, or cappuccino either." He took a quick look at his watch. "But I have a two o'clock, so I better be heading off. It's on the other side of the campus. Can we have lunch again tomorrow?"

She wasn't sure she'd ever seen a more hopeful look on a guy's face. Hesitant as she was, she couldn't think of a reason to say no. She'd be sure it was harmless.

"Sure, b-but on one condition."

His look fell just a little. "Okay."

"You bring some d-dice to see who buys." A little laugh and his face brightened again.

"Deal," he said quickly and stood up. "See you tomorrow then ..." He paused. "Gorgeous," he added. He quickly turned, striding away around the tables before she could react.

If Freya wanted a guy, here was one that was willing. She wished it were that easy, or this was the guy she wanted. She couldn't help but wonder how this was going to work out.

*****

Just before physics class, Freya sat on a bench outside the physics building, debating whether to text or to call Flint about the motorcycle ride. She trembled a little each time she thought of it but was looking forward to it, sort of like sitting and waiting for your final grade, anxious but wary. She finally decided to call since, if there were questions, it would be easier to answer them.

She salvaged the paper from her pocket and called, hoping Flint would be available.

"Hello, this is Flint. How may I help you?" a business-like voice said.

"Hi. This is Freya. Remember m-me from yesterday?" She hated talking on the phone as there was no body language with the phone and no visual contact to help when she was stuck on certain words.

"Sure do," he answered. "Ready for that ride?"

"Yes, I would love it, b-but don't want to be a pain about it."

"No worries. I've got plenty of time."

"I don't have any classes tomorrow morning if that w-would work for you."

That wasn't quite true but she was willing to cut a class to get this ride.

"Works Escort Bolluca fine. Up the street from the AutoZone store is a Tim Horton's. Meet me there at nine-thirty, and we'll have a coffee and go over how to ride on a Ducati."

"Okay. I d-did look up about your cycle, but I hope we won't g-go 169 miles an hour."

She heard a rich laugh from the other end. "If we do, it will be a first for me too."

"You have to promise n-not to scare me too badly," she teased. She was looking forward to the ride but wasn't about to tell anyone else about it till it was over.

"I'll try, but not knowing how timid you are, I may overstep a little."

"Uh-oh," she said, "should I be afraid?"

"I promise to take it easy ? at least a little easy."

"I can hardly wait," she added, her smile ready to explode.. "See you at n-nine-thirty."

"You got it. Bye now."

She headed inside for an hour of looking at and listening to Dr. Lebedev. She left the class, tingling as always.

On Friday morning, she was at Tim Horton's at nine twenty-five, nervous, but anxious too. Even from inside, she heard the Ducati pull into the parking area. In just a few seconds, Flint came through the door, looking just as he did yesterday except that he had two helmets in his hands.

"G'morning," he said, setting the helmets on the table between them. "What can I get for you this morning?" he asked. He stared over her head at the lighted menu screens.

There was no way she was going to get what she wanted unless she was willing to embarrass herself. She looked up at the lighted menu behind the counter. Maybe?

"I'll have the v-vanilla . . ." She paused as though she were thinking.

"Cappuccino?" Flint asked without hesitation, a knowing smile on his face.

"Perfect," she answered, returning his smile. He seemed to have understood precisely what was happening with her.

In a very few minutes, he was back with what was a black coffee for himself and her froth-covered drink.

"How do you stand those foo-foo drinks?" He laughed, sitting down across from her.

"I guess it's w-what you get used to," she replied, flinching a little as she took a sip from her cup. It was very hot.

He looked at her steadily for long seconds, to the point where she could no longer meet his eyes.

"Sorry," he finally said, taking a sip from his cup. "You have such a fascinating face; it's hard not to stare at it." He waited a second. "Good, you're blushing, and redheads blush so vividly. Was just checking."

"Yes, I b-blush very easily but . . ."

"I got it. No more," he said, shaking his head. "But listen, did you wonder why I had you read that instruction sheet to me at AutoZone?"

She bit her lower lip, trying to decide how to respond. She thought she knew the answer but wasn't sure she had enough courage to say it.

"That big pause tells me you know, or at least you think you know, and you're probably right."

His smile was encouraging her to say it, so she did. "Y-You're at least a little dyslexic?"

"Yeah, just like you have a little stutter." A knowing nod from Flint. "Neither of us is perfect, I guess."

Freya couldn't keep from laughing at that and was happy she was with someone who understood. Not perfect, but getting better by the minute. She was finding Flint to be a fascinating man.

"Now about this ride," he began, "here's the helmet I brought for you. I'm pretty sure it will fit, so why don't you try it on, and let's see."

Freya picked up the helmet and began putting it on, Flint reaching across the table to help.

"Gather your hair together so it'll hang out the back." She did. He pushed, and she pulled, and the helmet popped onto her head.

"Like being in a cage," she said, her voice partly muffled by the chin bar.

"I've put quick-release catches on yours so we won't have to have a D-ring exercise. Just press the two pieces together, and they snap."

She heard the click. "It feels pretty tight," she suggested.

He tugged a little. "Feels about right," he said, smiling at the green eyes that were peeking out at him. "Unsnap it and see if you can get it off. We'll finish our coffee and go for a ride.

She got the helmet off, afraid her hair was now a mess.

"They're kind of heavy a-and complicated looking."

"A little, I guess. Better than what my dad used to wear, though. They change the safety standard every four or five years so everyone can throw their old helmets away and get a new one."

"Sounds like a good d-deal for the helmet makers. Can I ask how much they cost?"

"Sure, if you're going to wear it, you might as well know what's wrapped around your head. It's a Shoei, which is one of the best you can get. I think it was somewhere between four and five hundred dollars."

"Oh my gosh, I wish you h-hadn't told me that," she said, eyes wide.

"As long as it's on your head, you aren't going to lose it. And I don't think you'll break it, so everything Bolluca Escort Bayan should be good."

She was looking at the helmet with renewed respect.

After more talking and laughing, their coffees were gone, and it was time to go.

As they stood beside the Ducati, Freya got a closer look at where she was going to be sitting. It didn't look like a nicely padded seat.

"I see you eyeing the seat. It's not the most comfortable, I've been told. But, what you can do is rest your butt on the seat as lightly as you can and lean against my back pretty hard. Your arms will be around my waist or chest, and that will help. Don't worry. You'll get used to it pretty quickly."

Flint swung his leg over his seat and motioned for her to follow suit.

"You're higher than I am, and I'll try to remember to crouch a little more so you can see over the top of me. Put your foot right there, step up and swing over."

She followed his directions and was quickly on her small seat, not at all like the ones she'd seen on Harley Davidsons. But she was squeezed in tightly behind Flint, her legs spread wide, so they were outside of his.

"Put your arms around me so you can see how that goes." She wasn't going to argue with that request as she was looking forward to it. This wasn't Grig, but it was Flint.

She leaned in and wrapped her arms around his waist, her face now nearly pressed against his back where the aromas of soap and aftershave were very prominent.

"When we're going through town, just grab my belt so you can look around a little. When we get out on the road, you might want to hold a little tighter.

"Is that when we'll go 169 miles an hour?"

"Or faster," he quipped.

She moved her hands to his belt as the Ducati rumbled to life. She had to admit it was a deep rich sound, befitting a beautiful Italian motorcycle, she thought.

Then they were moving, out onto the street, and she was squinting. Quickly she let loose of the belt, reached up, and lowered her visor. Much better, she thought. As they began moving, she caught a glimpse of a familiar face?she thought it looked like Brianne, but wasn't sure.

She quickly loved it, out in the open, the wind on her bare arms feeling refreshing. She learned to lean into the corners with Flint and could see people watching the Ducati as it rumbled by them in the quiet neighborhoods they were cruising. Flint turned a corner, and she could see there were no houses ahead, just trees and fields ...and they were speeding up.

Flint turned back toward her and yelled, "Hold on!"

She locked her hands around his waist, looking off to the side as things seemed to be going past them faster and faster. The engine under her was no longer rumbling but was getting a higher- and higher-pitched sound, and Flint was leaning further forward so she could see over the top of him. The road ahead was straight, but she could see a car ? it appeared to be nearly standing still as Flint swung left then back right as he passed it.

She'd never felt like this before, going as fast as they were, however fast that might be, in the open, the trees and poles zooming past them, a blur as she tried to focus on them. The scream of the engine was a delightful sound, blending with the roar of the wind. Suddenly it was backing down to a loud rumble once more, and she felt secure enough to unlock her hands and grab the belt again.

The cycle swung left, through a gate that Freya recognized as the entrance to a state park. They cruised another minute or so, and then Flint pulled off onto the grass near some benches.

When they had stopped, he pulled his helmet off. Freya fumbled for a second with the quick-release, but soon, her helmet was off too.

"How was that?" he asked, hanging his helmet on the handlebars and reaching for hers.

She shook her head. "That was amazing," was her awed reply.

"Did you like it when we hit 169?"

She laughed. "You didn't do that."

"How about 100?"

Her eyes went wide. "No k-kidding?"

"I thought you might like to brag a little to your friends. Don't usually go that fast. I'm a law and order guy."

Freya was looking; she wasn't sure Flint fit that description. But he also didn't look like someone who'd be zooming around on a Ducati either. He was a bit of a contradiction in dress, talk, and action. But she was undoubtedly enjoying her time with him, even more so than she had anticipated. He wasn't Grig, but he was Flint.

"You have classes coming up?" he asked, glancing at his watch.

"I w-wish you hadn't reminded me. I cut one, but I should get back."

"You didn't need to cut a class. You should have picked your free time."

"It's f-fine," she replied. I'm way ahead in that class."

"At a hundred miles an hour, we'll be back in no time," Flint said, pulling his helmet on.

"Oh my gosh, no. I'll know how fast we're going this time a-and I'll be terrified." Freya had her helmet on and was ready to head back. She wasn't exactly a timid girl, but she had never been very adventurous either. This ride was a step forward for her.

The ride back was much more relaxed, and Freya enjoyed the sights and the sensations of their quiet journey even more than the swift trip out. Having her arms around Flint was making the trip even more enjoyable.