An engine roars behind us. I turn, mildly curious about who else decided to hang out in the deserted Guppies parking lot, and blink in surprise at the sight of a familiar motorcycle charging our way. Nate stops a few feet from me, whips off his helmet, and holds it out. “Here,” he calls over the still-roaring engine. “I don’t have an extra, so you need to put this on.”
Thank god
