Was it my shorts or my bike? ‘I know my bike’s not as good as yours…’ I began. ‘It’s your shorts…your arse is going to hurt in them!’ ...��But cyclists wear Lycra shorts,’ I said naively. ‘They do but look…’ He basically showed me his arse and how the padded area encased his arse. God it gave his arse more definition and how it fucking shone in the light. ‘Your shorts are fine for the gym, or dancing but when your arse hurts…are you wearing anything under them?’ I blushed. ‘I thought,’ I said.. I am not crying today." A single tear streamed down her face. "Okay, maybe just one."Greg looked at his watch and realized that his mother and sister were going to show up soon to help Sarah, so he kissed Sarah with a quick peck on the lips. "Honey, I will see you at the church."He then walked to the hotel room door, waved goodbye as she mouthed the word, "Bye", and he left to go to his brother's room. Sarah sighed deeply and internally chanted the mantra, "I will make it one moment at a. More

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