Chapter 179: Ana Teaches Me (Part 2)
"Brakes grabbed too aggressive—locks the front wheel easy. Next time, engine brake smooth with a downshift first." She steadied the bike calm as ever, zero judgment in those eyes.
"Okay, it was good."
"Straight line drill now—claim your lane on this empty road, eyes far ahead like you’re staring down destiny. Hold throttle steady around 2000 RPM purr. Roll twenty feet clean, stop pretty. You ready, Emily?"
Nerves jangling wild, I kickstarted again—clutch feather-perfect this round. Glided smooth ten feet... then a sneaky slope dipped, and panic twisted the throttle too eager. The bike surged wild, clipping 15mph in a blink, wind whipping hard.
"Too fast—shit, help, Ana!"
I wrenched the brakes mid-wobble, rear fishtailing gravel fireworks as the engine cut again. Tumbled off-balance straight into her waiting arms, helmet clonking her shoulder soft.
Ana caught my full weight easy, chuckling warm against my ear. "Whoa there, eager little beaver—throttle ain’t a race car’s pedal, tempting as it feels. Downshift to engine brake first, then feather the actual brakes. You’re fixating feet ahead; lift those eyes to the horizon line. One more shot—commit full this time, no half-measures."
Blushing nuclear under the helmet, I remounted fierce-determined. "No more stalls—watch me nail it." Clutch in, starter roar, feather out butter-smooth—rolled even keel, eyes horizon-fixed. Hit steady 10mph... right turn loomed innocent. "Okay, right turn ahead—how exact on the lean?"
Ana showed me the right turn first, and she kept her voice calm and steady so I wouldn’t panic while we were out there on the quiet road, with only the soft night air, the faint rustle of grass, and the low hum of the motorcycle filling the space around us like a soft background pulse.
"Push the left grip just a little and lean your body to the right," she said, jogging beside me at the same pace so I wouldn’t feel alone while I tried to follow her instructions. "Don’t fight the bike. Let it move with you. Keep the throttle steady, and don’t stare at the wheel."
I nodded even though my stomach was already twisting with nerves, and my fingers tightened around the handlebars while I could feel just how stiff my shoulders had become.
"I’m trying," I muttered, and even to my own ears my voice sounded small, thin, and uncertain.
"I know you are," Ana said, glancing at me with that patient look she used whenever she wanted me to settle down. "That’s exactly why I’m telling you to breathe."
I took in a shaky breath and started the turn. For a brief second, it worked, and the bike leaned the way she had shown me, which made a tiny spark of confidence flicker in my chest, small but real.
Then panic hit.
I pushed too hard, and the motorcycle swung wider than I meant it to, drifting toward the empty lane with a suddenness that made my stomach drop so fast it felt like the ground had vanished beneath me.
"Easy—straighten it out," Ana called at once, her voice sharp enough to cut through my fear without sounding angry.
I reacted too quickly. I jerked the handlebars back and overcorrected again, making the bike wobble hard beneath me. The movement scared me even more, and I slammed the brakes before I could tip it over. We came to a rough, jerky stop, the tires scraping loudly against the road.
My chest was pounding so hard I could barely hear my own breathing.
"That was terrifying," I gasped, my whole-body tense and still. "I really thought I was going to drop it."
Ana was beside me in an instant, one hand rubbing slow circles on my back while the other steadied the bike so it wouldn’t roll away.
"You didn’t drop it," she said calmly. "You caught it. That matters."
I leaned forward a little, trying to get my breathing under control, but my hands still hurt from gripping the bars so tightly.
"My fingers ache," I admitted, flexing them a little. "I think I’m holding on like I’m trying to crush the handles."
"That’s because you’re nervous," she said, and her tone was gentler now. "You’ll loosen up. Riding gets easier when you stop fighting every little movement."
I looked at her, still embarrassed and shaky. "You make it sound so easy."
"It’s not easy," she said, giving me a small smile that was calm and almost amused. "It just gets familiar."
She pointed ahead toward the empty lot. "One more drill. A full circle. Start slow, keep your eyes up, and trust the bike. Don’t race it. Don’t rush it."
I swallowed and nodded, even though my legs still felt weak and my hands still trembled.
"Again," she said a little softer this time. "You can do it."
I started the bike once more. This time, the roll forward was smoother, and I could actually feel the difference. I got farther into the turn, and the bike moved in a wide, careful loop. It was still shaky, still uneven, but I kept going anyway, refusing to stop this time.
Then I wobbled again.
For one awful second, I froze. The bike tipped too far, and I knew I couldn’t force it back without making it worse. So I let it settle into the grass instead of fighting it.
"Ana!" I called, my voice tight with frustration and fear. "I can’t hold it!"
She moved fast, lifting the bike back up easily and checking me over in the same motion, as if making sure I was fine before anything else mattered.
"You’re okay," she said. "That was the smart choice. Better to stop safely than to fight it until you fall hard."
I let out a breath that was halfway between a laugh and a groan. "I feel ridiculous."
"You’re learning," she corrected gently. "There’s a difference."
Then she climbed on behind me.
The sudden closeness made me go still for a second. Her chest pressed against my back, warm through both our clothes, and her arms came around mine to cover my hands on the controls. Her hands were firm over mine, guiding my grip with careful, steady pressure that made the bike feel less threatening right away.
"Now I’ll show you," she said quietly, her mouth close to my ear. "Feel how I move the clutch. Feel the throttle. Don’t tense up."
Her voice was low and calm, and somehow that steadied me more than anything else had.
"Like this?" I asked quietly, barely trusting my own voice.
"Exactly like that," she said. "Now breathe. Don’t think about falling. Think about balance."
We rolled forward together, slow and smooth this time. With her guiding me, the bike suddenly felt less like something wild and impossible, and more like something I could actually understand. Her hands shifted mine gently. Her body moved with mine. Every little correction made sense in a way it hadn’t before.
"See?" she murmured. "That’s it. You’re not bad at this. You just needed practice."
I took another breath and leaned into the motion instead of fighting it. The bike moved better, cleaner, and I could feel my confidence start to come back little by little.
"That feels better," I said, surprised by how true it sounded the moment I said it.
"I know," Ana replied. "Because now you’re letting the bike work with you instead of against you."
We did a few more slow loops together. I still made mistakes, and I still wobbled once or twice, but Ana kept correcting me patiently every time. Each round left me a little surer of myself, a little steadier on the seat. My heart still hammered, but now it was excitement too, not just fear.
After a few clean circles, she let the engine go quiet and stayed behind me for a second, her arms still around my waist like she wasn’t quite ready to let go.
"Better," she said, kissing the side of my head. "Much better."
I laughed softly, tired and shaky but proud of myself too. "I was a mess."
"A little," she admitted with a smile. "But you kept trying. That’s what matters."
She lifted my helmet off and ruffled my sweaty hair with a hand that had gone much softer than before.
"Home now," she said. "Tub first. Then maybe we do this again tomorrow."
I grinned despite how exhausted I was. "Tomorrow, then."
Ana gave me one last warm look, like she already knew I’d come back for more, and honestly, she was right.
