He paused for a second and then nodded. “Yeah.” He pulled on the helmet and some gloves. I watched him kick out the stand and brace the bike by its handlebars. His arms looked strong. He looked back at me. “Will you open the back gate for me?” His voice was tinny and muffled inside the helmet.
I eased around the bike and released the catch on the gate. When he started to roll the bike past me, my hand shot out and grabbed his arm. I hadn’t even thought about doing it: it just happened instinctively. He paused. He turned his head toward me, the dusky evening light reflecting on the visor. I could see his eyes. They were still twinkling, but darker now.
“I can’t,” I said. I was on some kind of repeat. Maybe I wasscared. But as Nicky turned away without speaking, I gripped him even tighter. What was I playing at? The party was only just starting, and I was meant to stay—but Nicky was leaving.
His shoulders sagged. “Patrick. Don’t play games.”