Chapter 16: Two-Wheeler Domination
The air was cool and smelled of damp earth and gasoline from the support van that had followed them to the starting line. The office cycling competition was supposed to be a fun team-building exercise, a chance to shed the corporate skin for a few hours. For Rohan, it had become another arena.
He sat perched on the narrow pillion of Priya’s sleek racing bike, his knees comically high, his arms wrapped tightly around her waist. His own bike, a dependable but heavy hybrid, had a conveniently slipped chain five kilometers in. “A real shame,” Priya had said, her voice all faux sympathy as she glided to a stop beside him. “Hop on. We can’t have you walking back.”
Now, they were a spectacle. A two-person peloton of absurdity.
Solo riders, their faces masks of determined exertion, pumped past them on the gentle incline. Rohan could feel the burn in their legs, the heave of their lungs. He felt none of it. He was cargo.
“Just relax, Rohan,” Priya called over her shoulder, her voice barely strained. “You’re tensing up. It makes it harder to steer.”
He tried to loosen his grip, but the feeling of her solid core, the powerful flex of her back muscles with each downward pedal stroke, made it impossible. This was the same body that had held him possessively at the gala, but now it was a machine, and he was just dead weight attached to it.
“Look, it’s Priya and her… accessory,” a voice gasped from a passing bike, followed by a wheezing laugh.
Priya chuckled, a low, vibrant sound. “Ignore them. Hold on tighter. This next bit is a straightaway.”
She shifted gears. The bike surged forward. The wind whipped past Rohan’s ears, stinging his eyes. He pressed his face against the back of her jersey, the technical fabric cool and damp with her sweat. He could feel the relentless, efficient piston motion of her legs. It was effortless for her. Humiliating for him.
They began to overtake people. First, the casual riders from Marketing, then a few of the more serious competitors from Engineering. Their faces were a blur of shock and confusion as the couple on the single bike glided past.
“What the hell, Sharma?” one puffed, his face red.
“Teamwork!” Priya sang back, her breath even.
This was her version of teamwork. The same version as her spreadsheet. A calculated demonstration of disparity. He was the variable she had optimized out of the equation, reduced to a passenger.
He remembered the pressure of her fingers on his hip at the gala. I take such good care of him. This was just another form of care. She was carrying him, literally. Proving she could.
They rounded the final bend, the finish line banner visible through the trees. A small crowd of colleagues who had already finished or dropped out was cheering, their voices a mixed chorus of encouragement and bewildered laughter.
“Here we go,” Priya said, her tone shifting into one of pure, unadulterated focus.
She stood on the pedals. The bike rocketed forward. Rohan clung on, his arms locked, his body molded against hers in a parody of intimacy. They flew past the final solo rider, a lanky man from the database team who stared, open-mouthed, as the bizarre duo crossed the finish line first.
The crowd erupted. There was clapping, whoops, a few stunned silences.
Priya eased the bike to a stop, her chest heaving only slightly. She unclipped her feet from the pedals and stood, effortlessly supporting the bike and Rohan’s weight. She turned her head, her cheek almost brushing his. Her skin was flushed, her eyes blazing with triumph.
“See?” she said, her voice a warm, private whisper meant for the whole world to hear. “I told you I’d get us here.”
Rohan slowly, stiffly, disentangled himself and climbed off. His legs felt like rubber. He stared at the ground, at the tire tracks they had left in the damp path. The applause washed over him, feeling as substantive as air. He was the punchline to a joke everyone was laughing at, but only he could hear the cruel twist at the end.
He looked up at his wife, at the victor, drenched in sweat and adulation. She smiled down at him, a generous, victorious queen acknowledging her loyal subject.
And in that moment, he knew he couldn’t ride pillion forever.