And he gestured towards a pale green Vespa that was parked in the circular drive in front of the building.
That’s right. A Vespa.
Which has to be the least cool mode of transportation in the universe. I mean, to American guys.
But Gabriel wasn’t American. And he obviously didn’t care that his motorbike would be considered, by the average American male, completely effeminate.
‘I have helmets,’ he assured me, I guess mistaking my astonishment for reluctance to ride on a scooter due to the safety issue.
‘OK,’ I said faintly. I just wanted to get away from Nikki Howard’s screaming fans — who were still being held back by Karl and the franticlooking nun — and Nikki Howard’s crazy room-mate and her boyfriend(s) and her building and the giant mural of her on the building right down the street, and back to my family.
And I didn’t care how I did it.
‘Here,’ Gabriel said, and handed me a motorcycle helmet from a compartment on the back of his Vespa. He helped me fit it over my head (or Nikki Howard’s head). It didn’t make my stitches hurt, which was good.
Then he helped me climb on to the bike, and showed me where to put my feet. Then he got on as well, and said, ‘Hang on to me.’
Which I knew meant put my arms around his waist.
But of course I’d never touched a guy like that. I mean, aside from all the guys I’ve made out with in the past twenty-four hours. Which hadn’t exactly been initiated by me.
Except before I had a chance to fully obsess over what I was about to do, some of the schoolgirls broke away from Karl and their teacher, and began tearing towards us, screaming, ‘Nikki! Nikki!’
Then Gabriel started the motorbike up. There was a lurch and I had to grab him around the waist to keep from falling off the bike backwards.
And then he said, ‘Here we go!’
And we went.
Twelve
I’ve lived in Manhattan my whole life.
I’ve eaten dim sum in Chinatown and brick-oven pizza in Little Italy. I’ve been to the top of the Empire State Building and the Statue of Liberty too. I’ve traced my ancestors back to their entry into this country (from England on my dad’s side; Hungary on my mom’s) via Ellis Island, and I’ve spent hours getting lost in the Strand, the world’s biggest used book store.
I’ve had breakfast at Tiffany’s (well, a bagel outside it on a field trip to the Museum of Modern Art) and seen the Vermeers in the Frick (hard to believe he painted them without the help of a computer).
I’ve ridden the subway to Coney Island, used the paddle boats in Central Park and skated (though not well) at Rockefeller Center. I’ve even been to the World Trade Center, back when it was still the World Trade Center and not Ground Zero.
But I’ve never, ever cruised down Fourth Avenue on the back of a cute guy’s motor scooter before.
And I have to say, it’s the way to travel. It completely beats my other primary modes of transportation — the subway and walking — hands down. Even though the wind was really cold and made my eyes water — and Cosabella didn’t seem too thrilled about being wedged between my belly and Gabriel’s back — it was super fun darting in and out of traffic, dodging bicycle messengers and almost running a red light…
… and best of all, feeling the warmth from Gabriel’s back coming through the leather of his jacket, and seeing him smile every time he looked back to make sure I was OK.
And even though he was smiling at Nikki Howard and not at me, I had to admit… I could have ridden on the back of Gabriel Luna’s Vespa all day. For the first time since I’d woken up in the hospital, I actually felt… good.
Not good about the fact that someone had apparently stuck my brain in Nikki Howard’s body (so not).
But good about the fact that I was actually alive and got to experience cruising down Fourth Avenue on the back of a cute guy’s Vespa.
And that made me realize how very, very lucky I was. Whoever had done this — however it had happened… the fact that it had enabled me to experience something like that — well, I was grateful.
At least, about that part of it.
The part about all those schoolgirls wanting my autograph because they thought I was Nikki Howard?
Not so much.
Unfortunately, we reached the hospital all too soon. Twenty blocks is a long way if you’re walking, but it isn’t long enough if you’re flying down the street on the back of a cute guy’s pale green Vespa. Just fifteen minutes or so later, we were pulling in to the underground parking garage beneath Manhattan General.
And I started feeling nervous about the kind of reception I was going to get inside. I mean, it was true I had been kidnapped. But I could have gotten away a lot sooner than I had. The truth was, I had kind of been mad at my family for not telling me about the whole Nikki Howard thing. What exactly had they been thinking?
So I’d sort of put off going back until I absolutely had to.
Now I had the feeling, based on what Gabriel said, I might be in trouble when I got there.
So when Gabriel pushed the button to get a parking slip, I said, ‘Seriously you don’t have to come up with me, you can just drop me off.’ Because I didn’t want him to witness the screaming I expected to ensue. I mean, even though I’m crushing on Christopher, not Gabriel Luna, it’s still embarrassing to have a cute guy see your parents flip out on you.
‘After what happened outside your flat?’ he asked. ‘Not a chance. I’m going to make sure you get delivered safely.’
I felt myself flushing. ‘What happened back there,’ I couldn’t keep myself from saying, ‘what you saw, with Justin — that wasn’t — he just showed up this morning. I didn’t—’
‘I meant with the schoolgirls,’ Gabriel said.
‘Oh,’ I said. I was glad the helmet hid my blush. Still. I couldn’t let it go. ‘He isn’t… he isn’t my boyfriend or anything.’
‘Isn’t he?’
I realized I’d just made what he’d seen on Center Street look infinitely worse.
‘No,’ I tried to explain. ‘He’s my room-mate’s boyfriend. I think he… got the wrong message.’
‘I’d say so,’ Gabriel said.
Oh. God. Obviously, I just needed to keep my mouth shut.
But I couldn’t seem to do so. As we pulled into a parking space, and Gabriel switched the Vespa’s engine off, I asked, ‘How did you know? When no one could find me at the hospital. To go looking for me at Nik – I mean, my apartment building?’
‘Just a guess,’ Gabriel said, taking his helmet, which I’d carefully peeled off, from me. ‘A lucky one, as it happens. I suppose I don’t blame you for sneaking out, seeing as how they won’t let you have any visitors. But you really frightened them, you know, running off like that — your parents, I mean. Or I suppose that’s who they are — I haven’t actually met them, but I saw them when I stopped by your floor this morning, before they threw me out. Your mum was crying.’
I chewed my lower lip. Even though I don’t like like him, I didn’t want him to think I was the kind of girl who would run off from a hospital and make my ‘mum’ cry, any more than I wanted him to think I was the kind of girl who’d stay out all night with a cheeseball like Justin Bay…
I wanted to tell him the truth. About what had happened to me, I mean. I felt like he’d really understand. Anyone who could sing like that — well, he’d have to understand, wouldn’t he?
But I couldn’t tell him. Because obviously, if they hadn’t even told me, and I wasn’t supposed to be receiving visitors except my immediate family, and they kept kicking people off my floor, this whole thing was supposed to be a secret. I didn’t know why — but I was going to get to the bottom of it.
Today.
‘It… ’ It was so weird, the two of us, having this moment — if that’s even what it was, here in this parking garage… the same one where, just last night, I’d kicked and bitten Brandon Stark as he’d stuffed me into a limo. ‘It’s really nice of you to be so concerned about me,’ I said. ‘I mean, considering the fact that we hardly know each other.’