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I’ve regained my composure, and no matter how sexy, good-looking, or amazing this man may be, I’m in complete control of my actions and emotions.
    He offers me a helmet.  “Where to?  Do you have any suggestions?”
    “Not really,” I answer while fastening the chin strap.
    “I have an idea,” he says as he straddles the bike.
    “Care to share?” I ask, taking the seat behind him.
    “Nah, I’ll let it be a surprise,” he says, revving the engine.  He kicks it into gear, and we’re off on our adventure. 

Chapter Four
     
     
    “What in the world?” I ask, removing my helmet.  While doing a slow one-eighty degree turn in the parking lot, flashing lights, roaring rides, screaming kids, and sinfully delectable aromas bombard my senses.  Suddenly, my mind is screaming for funnel cake, and my gurgling stomach seconds the demand.  “A carnival?  Why are we here?”
    “Would you rather go somewhere else?”
    “I was six years old the last time I went to one of these things. It doesn’t really look as though they’ve changed all that much.”
    “Six?  Wow, why so long?”
    I shake my head.  “Too long of a story.  Do you think they still sell funnel cakes at these things?”
    “I have it on high authority that they do.  Come on,” he says.  Taking my hand in his, he begins to lead the way to the concession area.  Uncomfortable with what I consider an unwanted act intimacy, my body stiffens, and he feels it.  “I’m sorry.  I shouldn’t have…”
    I hold up my hand to stop him. “Don’t apologize, Fletcher.  I should probably tell you a little more about me, and I guess now is as good a time as any.”  He remains quiet as his eyes search mine for a hint of what’s to come.  “There are some things about me, things that happened in the course of my life, that make me different from other people.  I only have one friend, and I like it that way.  My last remaining relative is knocking on death’s door, and I’m not really all that freaked out about it.  Don’t get me wrong, my grandfather is one of the most spectacular men to grace the earth, but I know that once he’s gone my life will continue.  I don’t need to be touched, to be held, or to be fawned over.  I’m very self-sufficient, and if I find myself in a mess, I find my way out of it.  I trust very few people, I work hard, and I’m telling you this mostly so you’ll fully comprehend how absolutely uncharacteristic it was for me to accept your invitation to meet, much less for me to be here with you right now.  A lot of people mistake my forwardness and lack of social interaction for bitchiness.  I’m not a bitch, I don’t think I’m better than anyone, and I certainly don’t have a stick up my butt.  I’m just a loner, always have been, and probably always will be.  Anyway, I thought you should know.”
    “What made you say yes?”
    “Excuse me?”
    “If everything is as you want it, why did you say yes to me when I asked to meet you in person?”
    “I’ve repeatedly asked myself that very question.”
    He smiles.  “I know why you said yes.”
    “Oh, really?  Care to enlighten me, wise one?”
    “You say you’re okay with your life, but you aren’t.  Your cynicism is a defense mechanism, and I know this because you and I are very much alike.  I’ve been hurt more times than I care to acknowledge, so I’m not even going to go there, but I learned something over the years: the journey through life isn’t meant to be a solo trip.”
    “Who says?” I counter.
    “Everyone.”
    “Everyone?  Really?  Everyone told you that?”
    Fletcher lets out a laugh. “Yep.”
    I smirk while shaking my head. “You’re such a nerd.  Come help me find a funnel cake.”  I feel a little foolish for overreacting to his hand holding by assuming it was an act of intimacy.  The man was simply guiding me toward the concession stand, and I freaked.  To rectify the situation, and by rectify I mean to