He wasn't allowed to play with her after that.
When they stopped, she allowed him to help her off of the bike, her hand lingering a moment too long in his. She stood to the side but was ready to help him push the bike if he needed it, and walked alongside him, her shoulder brushing his, the same way that they would together when they were younger.
His words were compelling, the ache of wanting, needing to leave her home pushing her to do so. She couldn't, though, no matter how badly she wanted to.
She had promised her mother that she was take care of her father until she was eighteen.
A terrible promise to make when it came to that man, but one she had made nonetheless, for her mother, who had been on her deathbed.
Bianca hesitated, and then answered him.
"You know how badly I would love to, Blaine. Actually, you really don't know how badly I wish that I could. But ... I promised my mom," she said softly.
They reached the garage and she helped cover his motorcycle with the blanket they used to use to cover his bike, and then led the way to the house. After peaking in through the window, she started up the white, wooden ladder attached to the side of the house, which had several types of plants growing over it, and tapped on the window frame a few times. With a flick and one more tap, the lock came undone and she slipped in quietly.
"He's probably passed out on the couch downstairs, so we don't have to be too quiet," she said, moving into the room.
