Red sky in the morning, sailor take warning.
Red sky at night, sailor’s delight.
If only she’d known how sharp the truth of that little saying was about to become.
Right now, though?
She didn’t care where they were headed. Gina’s hand was out the window, catching the wind as she belted out lyrics with reckless abandon, pointing dramatically at her stomach mid-chorus to mime her desperate need for a pit stop. The girl refused to mute Taylor until the song was over—because apparently, bathroom breaks bowed to fairytale love songs, the very kind Nettie secretly longed for with an ache she never spoke aloud.
And then?—
“Whooooa, hello Hotness! Nice bike,” Gina crowed, words breaking between verses.
Nettie blinked, turning her head.
Her breath snagged.
The motorcycle was sleek, dangerous—an obsidian blur of polished metal and quiet menace. The rider astride it was even more so—broad shoulders, long legs, every line of his body a study in effortless power. Black gear clung to him like a second skin, and despite the October warmth, he wore it as if it were armor. The Ducati growled beneath him, a beast purring at his command.
Gina’s car rolled up beside him at the light, and before Nettie could even exhale, Gina smacked her arm.
“Say something to him…”
“Noooo…” Nettie’s protest was immediate, panicked. Her pulse beat in her ears.
“Be brave, girl! I know you have it in you.” Gina’s grin was wicked, her eyes dancing. “Who was just singing every lyric toTaylor and One Direction not five minutes ago? That’s right. You. Come on—say something!”
Another stoplight.
Another chance.
Nettie’s stomach twisted with something half terror, half exhilaration. Against her better judgment, she unbuckled her seatbelt, leaned dangerously out of the window, and let the word fall openly between them as her heart slammed wildly against her chest.
“Hi.”
The rider tilted his head. A gloved finger pointed firmly down at her seatbelt, a silent command. Then, a quick shake of the helmeted head before the light blinked green and he surged forward.
She should’ve obeyed.
She knew it.
The man was a stranger, a faceless unknown hidden behind that mirrored visor. But wasn’t that the point? Talking to someone who didn’t know her, who wasn’t part of the suffocating small world she’d grown up in, felt intoxicating. For once, she wasn’t careful, predictable, old-fashioned Nettie. She was trying on ‘bold’ for a moment – relishing it.
“Look at you go…” Gina’s voice was gleeful. “He could’ve passed us easy, but nope—he’s waiting at the next light again. I think he wants to talk to you…”
Her heart hammered so hard it hurt. Gina’s encouragement, his refusal to speed away—it made her reckless. Emboldened. What was she doing? What did she even want? Her palms were damp against the windowsill as the car slowed to another stop.
“Hey there…” Nettie leaned out further, her voice higher than she intended. “Are you single?”
For a heartbeat, silence. He didn’t answer. Just stared, visor aimed squarely at her. Again, that firm, infuriating gesture—buckle up.
The light flipped green, and Gina squealed as they both rolled forward. She was clutching the steering wheel like it was Christmas morning.
He was keeping pace with them.
Unbelievable.
“Oh my gosh, he’s staying with us! You’ve got this!”
