“You’re not what I expected,” he said.
“Neither are you.”
“I think I’m broken in a quieter way,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper.
Nick looked at me, confusion in his eyes. “I don’t drink. I don’t party. I haven’t done anything reckless since high school when I dyed my hair purple and cried because it didn’t match the dress I was going to wear for yearbook pictures.” I let out a small laugh. “But I mess things up all the time anyway. My brain is… loud. Scattered. I lose track of conversations, forget where I parked, obsess over something dumb I said five days ago. I interrupt people. I get so hyper-focused on stupid things like what font I’m using on my lesson plans, and then I forget to eat for like… a whole day. And I hate it.”
Nick’s expression didn’t change, but his gaze softened. One that said he knew exactly what it felt like to be exhausted by your own mind.
“I got diagnosed with ADHD last year,” I continued. “At twenty-five. I thought it meant I was just bad at life. Lazy. Too sensitive. Too much of a mess. But turns out… my brain just works differently. And most days, I still hate that too.”
He didn’t sayyou’re not a mess.He didn’t offer a fix. And I appreciate him for that.
His pinky finger lightly touched mine, his body somehow shifting closer to me. The distance between us shrank, and I looked back up at the sky, feeling my cheeks heat withembarrassment. “Sorry. I don’t usually word-vomit like that. At least, I try not to.”
“I like the way you talk,” his voice low. “You say what you mean.”
“That’s because if I don’t, it’ll swirl around in my brain and echo for hours until I lose sleep.”
I took a chance to look at him, only to find that he was already staring. Our faces were inches apart. His nose almost touching mine. He smiled, really smiled, and God, it changed everything. It wasn’t perfect. It was a little crooked, a little sad, but so warm it made my knees weak.
“My brain doesn’t echo,” he whispered. “It… haunts. Different kind of noise.”
I nodded, biting my lip. “Maybe we’re just two haunted people, trying to feel a little less alone for one night.”
He didn’t answer, but his hand brushed mine again. It wasn’t an accident. And I didn’t pull away. The touch was nothing, barely a whisper of skin. But it sent heat up my spine. I looked up at him, really looked. At the shadows under his eyes, the ink on his neck, and the quiet storm in his expressions. Everything about him screamed danger. Not the reckless kind, but the kind that sneaks up on you. The kind that makes you wonder if maybeyouwere always meant to burn.
“I don’t usually do this,” I whispered.
He leaned in closer. “I know. Me neither.”
And there we were, nose to nose, breath to breath, hearts beating like they’d been waiting for this. Nick reached up slowly, tucking a loose strand of hair behind my ear, his fingers lingering for a second longer than they had to.
His voice was rough when he finally spoke again. “You wanna get out of here? Or stay in the quiet?”
I thought about that for a second. What did I want? But then his hand looped into mine, and the answer was obvious. Fuck my anxiety. “I want to stay.”
Four
Nick
Her hand was in mine. And she wanted to stay. It felt too good. Like something I hadn’t earned. I didn’t understand why she wasn’t pulling away. Why wasn’t she asking me to take her home? She was a teacher, and I was just a fuck-up with a long list of reasons to run. She didn’t see the guy who’d steal from his own family just to buy another bottle. She didn’t look at me the way my brothers did. Waiting for the lie to slip, for the anger to come back, for something to break. She wasn’t there for that version of me.
The one I’ve buried deep and tried like hell to forget. The version I can’t even remember half the time, thanks to how far gone I used to be. But I didn’t let go. I couldn’t.
We were quiet. I liked that. Most people couldn’t sit in silence without filling it. Like they were afraid of their own thoughts. But Mya wasn’t afraid. Not of mine, not of hers, and apparently not of me.
“This is the most peace I’ve had in weeks,” she whispered.
I turned my head slightly, eyes tracing the moonlight over her face. She looked so real here. Not loud or fidgeting or trying to fit anywhere. Just… here. And it was the most dangerous thing I’d ever seen.
“Same,” I said.
She looked at me like she was trying to read something I didn’t want to say out loud.
“You ride for peace?” she asked.
“I ride to stay out of bars,” I said. It came out flatter than I meant it to. But it was the truth.
