Old memories. Old freedom.
By the time the sky turned indigo, I was ready.
The bike gleamed under the garage lights, humming softly as the engine warmed.
At exactly nine, the elevator doors opened. And there she was, wrapped in her oversized hoodie, hair falling down her shoulders, that quiet hesitation in her steps that always made her look like she didn’t belong anywhere and everywhere all at once.
She walked up, the hum of the bike reflecting off the glass walls of the garage.
Her eyes found the helmets in my hands.
Then me.
I didn’t speak. Just reached out.
She stood still when I slipped the helmet onto her head, fingers brushing the strands of her hair as I adjusted the strap under her chin. The glass visor caught the light, and for a second, when she looked up, our eyes met through that thin, curved barrier.
Brown and green.
Warm and cold.
A mirror and its opposite.
For a heartbeat, I almost forgot to breathe.
She was so close.
So real.
And I knew, even if I lived another lifetime, I’d still remember this image: her standing there, helmet reflecting the glow of the city lights, eyes soft but strong.
I looked away first, pretending to adjust my own helmet just to steady myself.
Don’t fuck up the last day together, Lockhart. I’ll kill you.
I swung my leg over the bike, the seat familiar, the vibration settling under me like an old heartbeat I hadn’t felt in years.
I glanced over my shoulder and patted the space behind me.
“Sit,” I said, voice lower than I meant it to be.
She hesitated for a second, then carefully swung her leg over and sat down. Her hands hovered uncertainly near her sides before I muttered,
“Hold on.”
Slowly, hesitantly, her arms wrapped around my waist. Tight at first, then looser, more comfortable. Her cheek pressed against my back.
And as I revved the engine, the garage echoed with the sound of something I hadn’t heard in too long: life.
I didn’t look back when we pulled out onto the road.
But I felt it.
The way her hold tightened as the city lights blurred past us. The way the night air hit my face, sharp and alive.
The moment we hit the main road, I felt her stiffen. Every muscle in her body locked up, her grip on my waist like iron. Her knees pressed into my sides as if she were trying to stay anchored to the world while the wind rushed around us.
I could feel her heartbeat, fast, uneven through the layers of fabric between us.
