Hans nodded, surprisingly gentle. “How about we go to Rostock and take the Hot Rod Harbor City Tour? You get to drive these hot rods around town. Then we can stop for dinner. My treat—at least until that pisses you off.”
Adrik grinned, the tension easing into something warm and exciting. “That sounds great.”
A shiver crawled up Hans’ spine, and his breath hitched, sensing the unseen danger lurking in the exciting possibilities.
They stepped onto the train to Rostock and it was as if Hans had moved into another version of his life—one where he wasn’t the guy who hid behind his laptop and old heartbreaks, but someone bold enough to knock on a stranger’s door and say yes to whatever came next. And sitting beside Adrik on the train only amplified that feeling.
Hans tried not to stare, but subtlety had never been his strong suit. Every time Adrik caught him looking, he smirked like he knew exactly what Hans was thinking.
The closer they got to Rostock, the more Hans’ anticipation grew. Hot rods, dinner, and Adrik—this was shaping up to be one hell of a night.
When they arrived at the Hot Rod Harbor City Tour, Hans’ pulse kicked up. The cars were ridiculous in the best way—low, loud, and built for showing off. Adrik’s eyes lit up, and Hanscouldn’t help but grin. Seeing him excited was… unexpectedly attractive.
“Pick one,” Adrik said, nodding toward the row of gleaming hot rods.
Hans walked along the line, pretending to consider each one, but really he was just buying time to enjoy the way Adrik leaned against the hood of a bright red car, arms crossed, muscles stretching the fabric of his T-shirt. He looked like a total heartbreaker, the kind you know you shouldn’t go for.
Hans pointed to a sleek black one. “This one.”
Adrik raised a brow. “Going for the intimidating look?”
Hans shrugged. “Figured I’d match my date.”
Adrik’s grin widened. “So, I’m your date now?”
Heat crept up Hans’ neck. “Well… I did invite you.”
“True,” Adrik said, stepping closer. “And I’m not just anyone.”
The words struck Hans with an unexpected intensity. He wasn’t sure what to do with that—whether to lean into it or laugh it off. He settled somewhere in the middle.
“Good,” Hans said lightly. “You feel special.”
“But you’re super special. I liked it when you knocked on my door to see me,” Adrik said, voice low enough to make Hans’ stomach flip.
Before Hans could respond, the tour guide called over instructions. They climbed into their hot rods, engines rumbling beneath them. Hans’ body shook with a mix of adrenaline and a strange, electric warmth.
As they pulled out onto the streets of Rostock, Adrik glanced over at him from his own red hot rod, a wicked grin on his face.
“Try to keep up,” he shouted over the engine.
Hans laughed, revving his own. “Oh, I plan to.”
They tore through the city, wind whipping through their hair, engines roaring, the world blurring around them. Alive with excitement, Hans was reckless, free, and dangerously fascinated by the man alongside him.
By the time they parked again, Hans’ heart was pounding for reasons that had nothing to do with the speed.
Adrik walked over, still buzzing with adrenaline. “You’re better at this than I thought.”
Hans smirked. “You underestimate me.”
“Not anymore.”
Their eyes held, the air between them charged again, the same way it had been at the bar. Hans was irresistibly drawn, as if by a powerful magnet.
“Dinner?” he asked, voice softer now.
Adrik nodded. “Sounds like a good plan.”
