Chapter 178: Ana Teaches Me (Part 1)
I took a deep breath, hands trembling a little as I eyed the massive black motorcycle gleaming under the garage lights—Ana’s pride and joy, all chrome curves and raw power. Straddling it felt huge, like climbing a wild animal. Helmet snug, gloves on, I gripped the handlebars tight, heart thumping loud.
"Ana, I’m scared," I admitted, voice small, glancing back at her standing there arms crossed, cyan ponytail catching the light.
"You have to be more confident, Emily—fake it until you make it," Reyes cut in, striding up fresh from patrol, her scarred face set stern. She’d overheard our deal somehow, leather jacket still dusty from the road. "Maybe I should teach her instead. I’ve ridden beasts like this through warzones."
"Reyes, please—I already promised Ana something big for this lesson," I pleaded quick, caught between them, cheeks heating at the memory of my dress-up deal.
Reyes’ dark eyes narrowed, shooting Ana a glare sharp as knives. "You could’ve promised me, princess. This doctor’s got no business on two wheels—she can’t teach you properly."
"Well, she’s a painter too—steady hands, right?" I tried defending, awkward laugh slipping out.
Ana snarled low, scent spiking protective. "I’m teaching her, end of story." Before I could blink, she scooped me off the seat effortless—strong arms banding my waist—and settled herself on the bike first, facing backward toward me. "Come here."
She tugged me down onto her lap, turning me to straddle front-on, my legs wrapping instinctive around her waist for balance, core pressed flush to hers. The engine rumbled alive under us with a throaty growl as she twisted the throttle smooth.
I clung tight, arms looping her neck, face buried in her shoulder—her warmth seeping through her jacket. "You want me rutted right here or what? Why’re you wrapping those legs so damn tight around me like a vice?" she teased, voice rumbling over the engine’s purr, one hand steadying my hip.
"I’m scared, okay? The bike’s roaring like a monster!"
"You shouldn’t be scared of a machine—you’re tougher than that now."
"Not just the bike," I mumbled, peeking over at Reyes watching intense from the garage door, arms crossed tight. "I’m scared Reyes will get mad at me. I am her girlfriend too—I’m all four of yours, remember? Don’t want her feeling left out."
Ana chuckled soft, gloved hand rubbing my back soothing as she eased the bike forward slow out of the garage into the quiet driveway, night air cool on my skin. "It’ll be fine—she’s just jealous. Reyes knows you’re ours, shared fair. Hold on tight; we’re going slow for your first feel."
Reyes snorted from behind, jogging to keep pace. "Better not drop her, doc—or I’ll take over."
"Fuck off!" Ana snarled as she sped up.
We rolled gentle down the empty side street, engine humming steady, wind whispering past as Ana guided smooth—brakes light, turns wide and easy.
After a safe distance, maybe half a mile, she pulled over smooth onto a grassy shoulder, killed the engine with a flick, and lifted off her helmet, shaking out that cyan ponytail. "Your turn now, princess—down you go."
She swung her leg off graceful, helping me dismount shaky-legged, peeling my helmet free too. Hair wild, cheeks flushed, I stood there buzzing—scared still, but alive with thrill.
Ana stood firm on the grassy shoulder under the starry night sky, a cool breeze tugging gently at her cyan ponytail as she tugged my helmet strap snug with those steady, surgeon-precise fingers. Her eyes locked onto mine, serious but encouraging.
"Alright, princess—your solo turn now. Listen up close, no rushing this beast. First things first—straddle it confident like we practiced earlier, both feet flat on the ground. Feel that weight settling in—bike’s a heavy girl at stops, so trust your core balance, not just your arms."
"But you only taught me the theory."
"That’s practice in itself."
I nodded fast, nerves crackling like live wires through my veins as I swung a shaky leg over the sleek black motorcycle, the leather seat cool against my jeans despite the lingering garage warmth.
The handlebars felt foreign and cold in my gloved palms, the silent engine looming patient like a sleeping dragon just waiting to stir. My thighs clamped tight on instinct, heart pounding a wild drum in my chest.
"Like this, Ana? God, it already feels so wobbly and tippy—am I even doing it right?"
"Perfect start, Emily—spine straight up tall, chin high, eyes locked way ahead on the horizon, not glued down at the bike or your hands." She dropped to one knee beside me, her gloved finger tapping each control deliberately.
"Is this... correct?"
"Right foot rests easy on the rear brake pedal, left toe ready on the shifter. Throttle’s that smooth roll on your right grip—gentle twists only, no jerky panic yanks. Clutch lever in left hand, squeeze it firm to start her up. Basics first: idle creep to feel the friction, then straight-line roll. Hit the starter thumb-switch—rev her gentle and listen for that purr. That’s your new best friend humming."
"Okay... deep breath, here goes nothing." My fingers felt clumsy with adrenaline, but I squeezed the clutch lever full in, thumb jabbing the electric starter.
The engine snarled awake with a deep, throaty rumble that vibrated straight up my core—intimidating raw power thrumming through my bones. "Whoa—holy shit, Ana, it’s alive! Feels like it’s gonna eat me whole!"
Ana’s grin flashed bright and proud, her hand patting my thigh encouragingly through the jeans.
"Atta girl, that’s a clean spark—good start. Now ease that clutch out real slow, like slipping silk off skin, while cracking the throttle just a hair—let friction pull her forward. No extra gas yet, feel her beg for it." I had changed into jeans before Reyes came, but inside—I was wearing shorts—which were completely wet.
I swallowed hard, trying my best—clutch feather-light slip, throttle a bare whisper twist. The bike lurched sudden like a bucking stallion, front wheel twitching wild as I yelped and slammed the brakes hard. Engine choked dead instantly.
"Shit—stalled it dead! It bucked me right off balance—what the hell was that?!"
She laughed soft and warm, no mockery in it, her steady hands righting the bars quick.
"Classic rookie stall, princess—clutch slipped too fast, starved her of power. Relax those death-grip hands; feather it out like petting a skittish cat, nice and patient. Shake it off, breathe deep—smooth always wins the ride. One more go, and I am sure that you’ve got the touch already."
Second try—clutch out slower, tiniest throttle blip. The bike inched forward wobbly, swaying side-to-side like a tipsy kid on training wheels. "Hey—I’m actually moving! Ana, look—rolling, no hands almost!"
"Good!"
Pride bubbled hot in my chest, but a sharp right veer toward the roadside ditch hit me with panic—I yanked the brakes too fierce. Skidded to a sideways halt, boots grinding gravel desperately. "Oh god—nearly ate dirt! That ditch came out of nowhere!"
