Never Have I Ever…Ridden a Bike

  Alice Winters

  Copyright © 2022 by Alice Winters

  All rights reserved.

  Edited by Courtney Bassett

  Proofed by Lori Parks

  Formatted by Leslie Copeland

  Cover by Cate Ashwood Designs

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Contents

  Never Have I Ever…Ridden a Bike

  Bonus Short

  About the Author

  Also by Alice Winters

  Never Have I Ever…Ridden a Bike

  Never have I ever told my roommate and best friend that he’s dreamy and I want to see his weenie.

  I quickly delete that from the text box before someone has my account deleted. And before Lance, the best friend in question, sees what I’m doing. I’m safe for now, he’s not home from work yet, but he’s wandered around the forum a time or two and happens to know that DragonWarrier324 is me. And yes… he brutally made fun of me for spelling warrior wrong.

  I reminded him that this was a username I thought of when I was much younger—two months ago—and have since learned how to spell better.

  The forum in question is a “Never Have I Ever” game where people say what they’ve never done. It’s mostly goofy little fun things like “Never have I ever seen a certain TV show” or “gone skinny dipping.” There was this one guy who was all “Never have I ever feasted on the blood of a virgin,” and Lance and I decided that he was either a vampire, which was semi-cool, or a blood-drinking murderer, which was less cool. He was kicked out an hour later, so we never got to figure it out.

  Alright… let me try a different one.

  Never have I ever…

  Dammit. I can’t really think of anything to write that doesn’t have something to do with Lance finally looking at me as something other than a “bro.”

  The door opens and I jump, startled, before quickly writing “Never have I ever ridden a bike” and pressing enter.

  There.

  Wow.

  So original.

  And amazing.

  People are going to be absolutely blown away by my contribution tucked in there between “Never have I ever had a five-person orgy” and “Never have I ever skydived naked.”

  Lance walks into the apartment where he’s immediately greeted by our cat, Thor the Great Destroyer. He’s like our child but in fur form. When we adopted him, I put both of our names on the adoption papers so it looked like we were together. I foolishly thought it was an amazing hint that we were meant to be together and father this cat as a couple. Lance was oblivious… as usual.

  Lance is a handsome man that I’ve known since we were old enough to talk. We were attached at the hip after we had a minor throwdown in kindergarten when he told me the ladybug I was drawing looked like a beetle. It… really wasn’t that bad of a jab, but to little five-year-old me who was the tiniest in the class, it was the greatest insult that had ever passed through anyone’s lips. I was positive that the only way he could understand the gravity of this was by me leaping onto him and biting his head while screaming, “It’s a ladybuuuuug!”

  After that, we were inseparable. He grew up to be ridiculously attractive, which was really annoying when I was trying everything in my power to pretend like we were best friends and nothing more. At least I no longer look like a baby… just like a teenager instead, which means I get carded everywhere I go, even at twenty-nine. When I’m working at my bakery that I own, I often get asked where the manager is.

  “Owen, are you on that forum again?” Lance asks with a crooked grin as he walks over to see what I’m up to. “Any more vampires?”

  “Nah. I thought there was a cannibal on there earlier but the lady just misspelled hummus,” I say as he leans over me, smelling annoyingly good even after a long day of work.

  He scrutinizes my screen, confirming why it was good that I didn’t put anything else on there. “Never have I ever ridden a bike? That’s right! I forgot you never learned one of the simplest things. Did I tell you my six-year-old nephew rode his bike out to the mailbox with me the other day?”

  I shift in my chair so I can glare at him. “This is a judgment-free zone,” I say as I wave at the computer.

  Lance grins at me. “Right.” Then he ruffles my hair like I’m a dog before snatching up Thor the Great Destroyer. And even though I’m being petted, it sends desire rushing through me. The desire for him to pet me somewhere else.

  “Were you the best kitty in the whole world?” he coos, which always amuses me when he’s at least six feet tall with tattoos and is wearing a leather jacket. The moment his eyes land on that cat, he turns to mush, and Thor the Great Destroyer loves it. He purrs and rolls onto his back and twists this way and that, soaking up every single moment of it.

  “Hey, I brought a new pie home that I’m trying out, so make sure you eat it and tell me how amazing it is,” I say.

  “I can’t imagine it’d be any other way,” Lance says as he nods at the table. “I got the mail.”

  “Ooh, anything good?” I say as I hurry over to collect it while he changes. I snatch up my letter opener that’s shaped like a sword and slice through the first box with immense satisfaction as it cuts right open, revealing the prize inside.

  Thor, who must have been set down at some point, comes dashing in, thrilled to be given a new place to explore. As he leaps into the box that’s still on the table, I open the second one.

  “You know you’re not allowed on the table,” I say, but the way he looks at me as he explores tells me that he’s not technically on the table and I give in. There’s no way I can look into his blue eyes and not give him everything he wants.

  “Owen?”

  I freeze, caught red-handed—or more correctly letter-opener-handed—as I tower above the open boxes.

  “Were either of those boxes for you?” Lance asks with a raised eyebrow.

  “I… did… not… look,” I realize. Then I give him my best smile as he snorts.

  “What is with your obsession with opening boxes?” he asks as he reaches into the one that Thor has now made his home.

  “It’s thrilling,” I say. “Did you have something in there you didn’t want me to see? Porn? Is it porn?”

  “Yes, it’s the seventies and I get my porn by mail,” Lance says as he opens the package that was inside that box.

  “I knew it. Wait… isn’t that a vibrator?” I ask curiously.

  “It’s a massage wand,” he says as he examines it. “For my backaches.”

  “You can massage my wand.” I toss in a waggle of the eyebrows, which is my equivalent of flirting.

  He snorts. “Be careful or one of these times I’ll take you seriously.”

  I wish you would.

  Lance rips the wand out of the package and turns it on before jabbing me with it right in the gut.

  “Ooh, powerful vibrator,” I say as it vibrates all over my stomach.

  “Massager.”

  He’s such a fool bothering to correct me. “I bet you could ride this baby into the sunset with those vibrations,” I say as I take it from him and jab him in the nipple with it. “You like that, don’t you?”

  “So much. Thank you. My nipple definitely needed massaging,” he says as the second box goes teetering when Thor decides to make it his new throne. It slides off the table and clatters onto the ground as the stuffing falls out and a small red box goes rolling across the floor. “This yours?” Lance picks up the box and then scoots Thor out of the way since he had decided that he’d like to consume the paper that fell with it. He has a knack for eating things that aren’t edible but snubs his nose at the endless cat treats I get him. He’s just adorable like that.

  “I don’t think so,” I say as I pick up the small red box that’d been inside. “I assumed it was yours and you’ve told me in the past you don’t mind me opening them.”

  “Hold on, this is the wrong address,” he says as I pry open the red box. “Owen!”

  I still as I look at him sheepishly. “I’m sorry. You… waited until I had the box opened before saying anything! I was already in motion!”

  “This is our neighbor’s.”

  Now that’s not good. It’s one thing to open Lance’s packages, which he will just leave lying around for days before getting to them—I was just hurrying him along on the journey—and another to open the neighbor’s. “Oh no… Granny Hell?” I ask in horror. She’s like eighty-seven and four foot eight, filled to the brim with the rage left behind from all the souls she’s consumed during her lifetime.

  “No, other door,” he says, which is a huge relief. I’d rather take on Weed Tony than Granny Hell any day.

  “Look at this,” I say as I hold the small box out toward him, revealing a small red diamond nestled in its box. “It looks legit.”

  Lance’s eyebrow rises so high, I’m impressed. “You think Weed Tony can afford a diamond?”

  “He’s a smuggler,” I declare.

  Lance snorts, so I jab him with his vibrator again. He responds with, “You thought our last neighbor was a werewolf.”

  “You should have heard the noises he made through the walls at night!”

  “Yeah, I remember. You tried getting me to sleep with yo

u so I could hear. He was probably masturbating.”

  That wasn’t the full reason I was trying to get him in bed with me, but I don’t say anything.

  “Anyway, put it back in the box, seal it up, and we’ll go deliver it. I doubt Tony will care too much. I’ve never seen the guy upset about anything.”

  “Okay,” I say as I do as instructed. The only issue with his plan is that I’d sliced right through the label and also don’t have any packaging tape, so I tape it shut with some strips of rainbow-colored Scotch tape that look a bit suspicious. “You have to go with me.”

  “Fine, fine,” he says as we head out of our apartment and over to the next one together.

  When we reach the door next to ours, Lance knocks. While I’m definitely chattier than Lance, he’s always eager to be the first one to greet or talk or do something for me, even when we were kids. The door swings open just a smidge before Tony looks out, and a big waft of weed smell seeps into the hall.

  “H-H-Hey,” he says. He’s sweating profusely, which is weird when it’s not that hot outside. His eyes are shifting back and forth between us, like he can’t decide who to stare at more. Honestly, he makes me miss our werewolf neighbor. The werewolf neighbor at least liked to give me candy whenever I stumbled upon him. Lance was horrified when I told him all the candy in our jar had come from him and forbade me from eating it. I ate it all anyway and I’m still alive.

  “Hey, so your package came to our place by accident,” Lance says.

  Tony looks thrilled. “It… It did? Oh, thank god. Oh good. Oh fantastic. Give it here. Give it now.”

  I hold it out, but the door isn’t open wide enough for the package, so I flip it on its side. Tony grabs it, but instead of opening the door to get it through, he yanks and pulls, crushing the box in the process. I’m unsure if I should help or not, so I give it a mini shove that only collapses the box’s sides.

  “Okay. Great. Owen’s really sorry, but he accidentally opened it,” Lance says, which makes Tony freeze.

  “Y-Y-You did… what?” He’s holding the crushed package, which is still outside the door, while looking uncertain.

  I give him a reassuring smile. “I’m sorry, I mean, it was delivered to us. I didn’t even bother checking the address—”

  The door is suddenly thrown open, making me realize that Tony isn’t alone.

  The reason why he wasn’t opening the door wider to pull the package through wasn’t because he felt like cramming a small square box through a slit, it was because of the guy behind him with a gun.

  Definitely why.

  Lance, registering this faster than me, snatches me and tears me back quickly before yanking me through our apartment door. As he grabs for the lock, the door is flung inward, slamming into me and shoving me back. The guy with the gun pushes Tony in before walking in after, package in hand. He’s a hulk of man, making Lance look small and me feel like a toddler. I feel like any prolonged talk with him would result in a neckache.

  The table is pressed against my back as I feel around for something to defend ourselves with against this crazed gunman.

  “You opened the package?” the gunman asks, eyes shifting between us.

  “Nope. Not at all. Didn’t at all. Just delivered it. That’s all,” I say with a huge fake smile. I knew the acting class I took in middle school instead of Life Skills would someday come into use.

  He glances down before plucking the rainbow Scotch tape. “Uh-huh…”

  “The sender must have been… packed full of pride,” I say quite weakly. It sounds ridiculous even to my own ears. “Yay!”

  “Owen, shhh,” Lance whispers.

  I quickly shut up and just give the guy a smile. It’s probably super suspicious, but I’m pretty sure you’re supposed to make your abductor like you so they’re less likely to murder you or something.

  “Did you look inside?” he asks.

  I shake my head quickly. “Nope.”

  “Let’s see,” he says as he stares me right in the eyes while he opens the box. Maybe if he was looking at what he was doing and not staring into the deepest darkest parts of my soul, he’d have noticed that the container inside was on the edge, and he’d have stopped it from flipping out and rolling across the floor where it snapped open. What he does notice is that the small diamond drops out and rolls across the floor.

  And as we all watch with bated breath, Thor the Destroyer swoops in and swallows it whole.

  “Thor, no!” I shout.

  The gunman shoves the empty box at Tony and throws up both hands. “Fucking hell, now I have to kill the cat!”

  Lance snatches Thor up and looks at the man in horror. “You can’t kill our cat.”

  The gunman looks less than concerned. “I can kill your cat.”

  “I’ll… I’ll make him spit it out,” Lance says as Thor meows, like he wants us all aware that he has nothing in his mouth.

  “Come on, just… let me kill the cat,” the asshole says.

  “I’ll fucking shiv you if you try to kill our cat,” I say as I hold the massage wand out before questioning why I didn’t at least go for the letter opener.

  “With your vibrator?” he asks.

  “It’s a… massager… You know what? Not… really important right now. We can get it back,” Lance says.

  The gunman shifts his eyes to Tony. “You know none of this would have happened if you’d have just fucking picked it up like you were supposed to instead of shipping it in the goddamn mail!”

  “I didn’t have a car,” Tony says with a shrug.

  “Then you fucking rent one!” He aims the gun at Lance, who is holding the cat. “I’m going to shoot the cat, and if you’re holding the cat, I’m going to shoot you.”

  “We just have to wait for him to throw up or shit it out,” Lance says.

  “Does it look like I have time?” the guy says.

  “I made pie! We can all just have a good slice of pie while we wait,” I say.

  “Owen makes really good pie,” Tony says. “He’s a baker.”

  The gunman considers this as he glances over at the pie on the counter. “It does smell really good.”

  “I’ll get you a piece,” I say as I inch toward it.

  “Fine.”

  I rush over, and with shaking fingers, I grab enough plates for everyone before cutting the pie into four pieces. Three of them are extremely tiny and the fourth makes up half of the pie. The longer he eats, the longer we will likely be left alive. As I’m finishing, I slide the knife off the counter and into my pocket. First chance I get, I can make Tony stab him for me. My knives would definitely do the job; I only use the best of the best and keep them in tip-top sharpened shape.

  “Here you go,” I say with a smile as I hold the plate out.

  The gunman looks delighted as he grabs the plate before taking a bite as I pass out the rest of the pieces.

  “Have a seat while I think about this,” he says as he waves to the couch.

  The other two immediately sit down, but I’m not sure how to sit with the knife in my pocket.

  “Why don’t you have a seat?” he asks.

  “Owen, sit,” Lance whispers as he grabs for me.

  “Is it because you stuck a knife in your pocket?” the gunman asks.

  “No. Ha. Why would I be that dumb? I don’t have a knife,” I say as I sit down while the knife digs painfully into my leg.

  “Your pants are so tight that I can clearly see the knife as you walk.”

  “No they’re not.”

  “I can see the outline,” he says as he motions to it. “Give me the knife.”

  “I don’t have a knife,” I say as I shift to try to release the pain of the knife stabbing me in the leg.

  “That’s weird,” he says as he points at my pants with his fork. “Because I really feel like I can see it.”

  I glance down at the small blossoming of red blood soaking through my white pants. “Ink.”

  “Ah, makes sense,” he says. “Very good pie. What kind is it?”

  “A twist on a turtle pie.”

  “Nice. Now give me the knife.”

  I yank it out of my pants and aim it at him. “Get out of our apartment before I fuck you up,” I say.

 

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