The engine hummed contentedly beneath me as I raced through the city night, the headlights slicing through the darkness and creating playful shadows on the empty road. The lingering scent of Elizabeth’s perfume clung to my jacket, a sweet reminder of her presence. Her laughter rang in my ears, louder than the roar of the bike itself.
And all I could think was:What the fuck have I done.
The air was brisk, cool enough to clear my mind, yet it did nothing of the sort. I couldn’t shake the image of her—Elizabeth she was sunshine itself, stepping outof her house, her eyes sparkling like stars, that rare, uncertain smile dancing on her lips.
Her laughter echoed in my thoughts as I recounted the story of nearly flipping the bike when I was fifteen, and I could still hear the softness in her voice when she spoke about the old piano from her childhood home.
She had trusted me with those memories.
And the hardest part? I allowed her to.
Because somewhere between the clinking of our glasses and that quiet moment when her hand brushed against mine across the table, I lost sight of the fact that this all began as a foolish bet.
Adonis. Liam. Their voices resurfaced, teasing and mocking me.
“You? With Elizabeth Delacroix? No way she lets someone like you get close.”
“It’s a good thing she doesn’t like you anyway. You’ll never make her fall in love with you.”
It was just a joke. A challenge. Something utterly ridiculous. But now, I find myself feeling like the punchline. Because I didn’t win. I lost. I lost the moment she looked at me as if I were worth something.
---- ??? ----
As I rolled into my parents’ driveway, guilt clawed at my insides, a relentless fire consuming me from within. The porch light flickered on, casting a warm and familiar glow that always felt like home. I turned off the engine and lingered for a moment, still wearing my helmet, just… breathing. I was trying to grasp who I was before tonight, before her.
Stepping inside, the inviting aroma of garlic and rosemary wrapped around me—Mom had been busy in the kitchen again, despite my earlier warning that I’d be out late. Dad looked up from his spot on the couch, a knowing grin on his face, as if he could read my thoughts. Mom appeared in her cozy robe, cradling a steaming cup of tea.
“Well?” she asked, barely able to conceal her excitement. “How was the date?”
I let out a breath, forcing a smile that didn’t quite reach my eyes.
“It was… good.”
“Good?” Dad raised an eyebrow, a playful challenge in his gaze. “Son, I’ve seen you come back from missions with more enthusiasm than that.”
“She’s different,” I replied, shedding my jacket and plopping down on the armrest of the couch.
“She’s… I don’t know. Real.”
Mom leaned in closer, her interest piqued.
“So? Do you like her?”
I hesitated for a moment, the weight of my feelings settling in. Then I nodded.
“Yeah. I think I do.”
Looking at both of them, I whispered,
“I think she might be the one.”
There it was—my truth, both liberating and heavy. Yet beneath it all, another truth loomed like a loaded gun in my chest. She didn’t know the whole story. She didn’t know that this had begun with me being exactly the kind of guy her father warned her about.
“Then what’s that look for?” Dad asked gently, concern in his eyes. “You’re not exactly glowing.”
I found myself staring at the floor, the weight of my admission pressing down on me.
“I haven’t told her everything.”
