“Hey babe, are you ready to go to lunch?” I looked up and smiled, “Of course, anything to get away from this paperwork.” I pushed myself away from my desk and stood. I was barely 20, and he was 21. His hand was so warm as he grabbed mine to walk through the lobby of ExterCorp, where we worked. That’s where I met him, at work. He used to throw pencils at me from across his cubicle when we were both interns. Then he got promoted and soon after, I did too.
I pulled my hand away from him, though, and I remember the quizzical look he gave me. “Not here,” I whispered. As far as anyone at work knew we were just best friends, the closest a pair can get. They were okay with that. Interoffice relations, though, was a different story. If our boss found out that we were dating we would be fired for sure. I wish he cared like I did. I valued my job so much, but he didn’t seem to care. He would constantly sneak in a kiss or a hug or holding hands. It makes me nervous, what if someone catches on? Whenever I would bring it up he would just kiss my forehead and say not to worry about it; people will think what they want no matter what.
We made it outside of the office, and I grinned. “You brought the bike, today?” I asked excitedly when I saw the gorgeous black and silver Harley. He smiled but looked down, “I was actually hoping that we could take your car? I was rushing this morning and only brought one helmet. I forgot about lunch.” I laughed and shook my head, “Rushing? Your hair looks better today than any other day.” He smirked and shook his head, shaking out his long, dark hair. I laughed, pushed his shoulder, and walked toward the bike. I picked up the helmet and handed it to him, “So the wind doesn’t ruin your hair.”
He shook his head and pushed it towards me, “No way are you getting on this bike without a helmet.” I smiled and walked toward him; I kissed him softly after looking around. There was no one in the parking lot. I kissed him again, this time with more force. He laughed and pulled away, “Alright, alright, I see what you’re trying to do. You really want to ride the bike that bad, today?” I laughed and nodded, “Of course! I always want to ride the bike! It’s so sick.” He smiled and nodded, “Alright, but you have to hold on extra hard to me so little ole’ you doesn’t go flying. Deal?” He hooked his finger under my chin until I nodded. He put the helmet on his head, and we both climbed on.
We made it to the restaurant fine. We always spent our lunches at a small diner which was built by my great uncle. My cousin owns it now, but he’s never around. The place is great, like its own little family. We had our usual; mine was a classic burger, plain, and fries, and he got the special everyday, saying he likes variety. Today it was a brunch special, eggs and sausage. We talked about the upcoming projects, we talked about our plans for the weekend, and we talked about us. It was a pleasant conversation, and all it did was remind me of how much I love him.
Zack paid the check, and we were back outside by the bike. He pushed the helmet in my direction once more, but I just ruffled his hair to remind him of how perfect it was. He laughed and put the helmet on his head. I climbed on the bike behind him and wrapped my arms around his waist. He revved up the engine, and we were off. It was a good ten minutes ride all the way to ExterCorp, and we spent it speeding up and slowing down. He always did that to scare me; he would start it up at 80 miles an hour, and then I would scream for him to bring it back down to fifty.

One time, though, he didn’t slow down. “C’mon, this is fun!” he told me. “No! It’s not, please slow down!” I yelled back, but he didn’t. We had made it off the exit just fine, but he wasn’t slowing down still. “Babe?” he called.
“What?” I yelled, scared that my voice was getting lost in the wind.
“Take my helmet, and put it on you,” he instructed, and I laughed.
“What about your hair?”
“Forget my hair!” he said, lifting his hand to undo the strap, “This thing is killing me.” I laughed and held onto the bike tighter with my legs so I could grab the helmet off his head. I put it on mine, just like he asked. “Now give me a hug,” he told me. I was surprised at the random need for attention, but I complied none the less. I squeezed my arms around his middle as tight as I could, really showing him how much I loved him. “Now tell me you love me,” he asked. I was shocked, “What’s going on?” I asked him. He shook his head, “Tell me you love me!”
“Slow down!” I countered.
“God damn it! Tell me you love me if you do!”
“I love you!” I screamed and hugged him tighter.
“I love you too…” he whispered.
“Now slow down!” I screamed, but he didn’t. We were heading right for the ExterCorp parking garage, but we weren’t heading inside. The wall approached faster and faster, and I couldn’t stop it. Before I knew it…crash.
“The brakes had broken. They don’t know how, or why, but the breaks just gave out. He couldn’t stop or slow down. They told me that he died on impact, and I was saved because he turned around and wrapped his arms around me. A simple 21 year old gave his life for me. I could never get over it. I told him that I loved him, and I meant it, I still mean it. I found out about a week later that I was pregnant with his child; it was a miracle that I didn’t lose her in the accident, but less than a year later I gave birth to your mother over there.” A beautiful redheaded woman looked up from her place on the counter. She hopped down and kissed the old woman’s head, “I love that story, Mom; I never get tired of it.”
The little munchkin sitting at the kitchen table bounced in her seat. “That’s a great story, Grandma!” The ten-year-old said. The grandmother smiled and nodded, “Well I certainly think so. Thank you, Cassandra.” The old woman turned to the eldest of her grandchildren. Nessa and Brian were twin sixteen-year-olds, and Nessa had tears in her eyes. They both walked over to their sweet grandmother and hugged her, “That’s beautiful, Grandma.” She nodded and rubbed their backs lovingly. “Love has a way of protecting you from certain things, but sometimes it’s more importantly the person providing the love,” She told all of her children. They all nodded in complete understanding. The trick was to find that special person. For Victoria it was that silly, beautiful, loving, 21-year-old, Caleb.