Summer shrieked a smothered giggle when he picked her up. “Looks to me,” she told him, looking down, “like you just wanted your hands on me.” Utterly impudent now, in spite of the pink tingeing her cheekbones, she pulled him along. “I know exactly where. So come on!”
“I wanted my hands on you?” Robert shook his head, waving his hand absent-minded in the air. “You know, as well as I do, that you were the one who wanted your hands on me. Or, wanted me to put my hands on you. Either way.” It was a joke she made, but Robert couldn’t help himself. He usually tried to be the one with the last laugh as far as he was concerned. “Alright, alright, lead the way, just make sure not to pull my arm out of the socket while doing so. I kind of need it for my career.”
“I’ll put it back!” she protested. “But you aren’t the actor I think you are if you can’t get around the loss of an arm.” They didn’t have far to go, so she left her bike propped up while she led him to where they could see the bike rental place. Going behind him, Summer gave a little push. “Go on, I have to get mine back.”
“Did you just joke about putting my arm back after you tear it off? I may be one hell of an amazing actor, but I’ll have you know it won’t be as easy as you think to play certain roles with only one arm. Plus the image isn’t all that wonderful either.” With that shove against his back, Robert pretended to stumble a bit, fixing his glasses into place. “I’m going, I’m going. No need to shove.” With a quick smile and wave of his hand, Robert got busy, filling out the paperwork and snatching himself up a bike for the day. He’d have to admit it had been some time since he had ridden, that’s for sure. Before long, he was back at Summer’s side, bike at his side. “Just around the park, you said?”
“Unless you wanted something different.” She swung her leg over the bike, balancing precariously on her tiptoes. “You were the one who suggested Central Park.” With a nudge, she got the front pedal into place and pushed off, wheeling in a wide circle around Robert before striking back down the way she’d come. There were more than enough tangled paths just in the southernmost part of the park to keep them busy for an hour or so.
She pedaled a little harder, intending to sweep back around to him, and accidentally shot herself off the path. Trying to recover, she jackknifed the bike, tangled her feet in the body trying to dismount, and ended up in an awkward, skin-scraping sprawl on the pavement, breathing sharp and fast. Somewhere in the midst of landing, she said, “Shit. Oww.”