~Rouger~
I should have never gone to her place, but I’d known when I’d turned my bike around, where I was going. I’d told myself it was only about helping, that it was just a delivery, a few tools, a job incomplete. But every instinct in me knew the truth: it was about her. Mel. The way she moved, the way her presence invaded my chest, the way she could make me want everything I shouldn’t.
As I drove, I recalled how the ride over had been a blur. How the wind had cut through the layers of my jacket, sharp and insistent, and the engine’s vibration thrummed through my bones. My hands had gripped the handlebars tight, each pulse a reminder that I wasn’t thinking straight. I’d kept telling myself to slow down, to keep control, to leave when it was done. But then I’d seen her through the door
