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against the back of his right shoulder. I let out a soft scream when he takes off, but I’m quiet the rest of the way. He takes it easy on me the whole way there; going extra slow on the turns and easy on the acceleration. But I’m still ecstatic when he arrives at Moore Square in downtown Raleigh.
    My thighs are still humming from the vibration of the motorcycle engine as I stand next to the bike, waiting for Chris to remove his helmet. He hangs his helmet from a hook inside a compartment hidden beneath the seat cushion. Then he turns to me and smiles as he reaches for the strap on my helmet. The tips of his fingers are a bit calloused, probably from playing the guitar without a pick. He hates using guitar picks when he’s practicing.
    Goosebumps sprout over my arms and I try not to look at his face as he finally gets my helmet strap unhooked. He gently lifts the helmet off my head and I can feel him staring at me. I bite my lip and try to regulate my breathing. This is it. He’s going to kiss me.
    I muster the courage to look up into his eyes and he lets out a soft chuckle. “You did good. I think I only heard you scream once,” he says, and I let out the breath I was holding as he turns around and hangs my helmet on the same hook where he hung his.
    He locks up the seat compartment, then he grabs my hand and nods toward the park area where dozens of white tents are set up for some type of blues music festival. Closer to Blount Street, there are some animal petting zoos set up with billy goats and lambs. The grassy smell of hay hangs thick in the humid summer air as we pass the animal pens.
    “You want to ride a pony for your birthday?” he asks.
    “I think I stopped qualifying for pony rides when I stopped dotting my I’s with hearts.”
    He laughs and lifts my hand to his mouth to plant a kiss on the backs of my knuckles. “I — That’s why I like you.”
    Suddenly, he looks nervous. As if he almost blurted out something he thought he’d regret.
    I squeeze his hand twice before he looks at me. “I like you, too.”
    He chuckles as he shakes his head. He knows I know what words almost slipped off his tongue. That perfect pierced tongue. And now he knows that I feel the same way.  
    Oh, God. Please let him kiss me today.
    We get to the booths and that’s when the fun begins. Chris chats up the vendors at each booth and we learn all about the various types of blues music, from bluegrass and acid blues to R&B and Canadian blues. I never realized how many different genres of blues music there were. The vendors play their music, some of them have musicians in their tents playing. Chris buys me the CDs he thinks I like, or that I should like. He’s a little pushy when it comes to introducing me to new music. Then we sit on the grass and watch a few bands play on the big stage.
    Around six p.m., when Jackie normally gets home from work, Chris’s phone rings and he pulls it out of his back pocket. But it doesn’t look like his usual phone. It’s a brand new smartphone.  
    He answers the call, then he passes the phone to me. “It’s for you.”
    I’m a little hesitant as I take the phone. “Hello?”
    “Happy birthday, sweetie!”
    It’s Jackie. Something about hearing her voice today gets me all emotional.  
    “Thank you.”
    “How do you like your new phone? I hope it’s a nice one. Chris wouldn’t let me pay for it.”
    I stare at Chris, then I hold the phone a few inches from my face to get another look at it. “This is mine?”
    “Of course! He didn’t tell you. Oh, Chris. Always trying to be so sneaky.”
    I smile at Chris and blink a few times so I don’t cry. I’ve never had a cell phone. And I haven’t gotten a birthday present in a few years.
    “Thank you,” I whisper again because I don’t know what else to say.  
    “You’re welcome, sweetie. I’ll see you two tonight. Don’t be home too late. I have a beautiful cake for you.”
    I press the red icon to end the call, then I