ONE Night On His Bike

I'M Not Him

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*CHAPTER 9: I’M NOT HIM*

We were still at the rooftop. String lights above us. My red dress felt too bright now.

His hand was still over mine.

*"You don’t have to,"* he said quietly. *"But if you want to... I’m listening."*

I stared at the napkin in my lap. Picked at it.

*"His name was Daniel,"* I started. My voice sounded far away. *"My ex."*

He didn’t move. Just waited.

*"It was bad,"* I whispered. *"Really bad. Controlling. Toxic. He’d check my phone. Decide what I wore. Who I talked to. If I smiled at someone, it was a problem."*

I laughed, but it wasn’t funny. *"I told myself it was love. That’s what love looked like, right? Someone caring too much?"*

His thumb brushed over my knuckles. Once.

*"No,"* he said. Soft.

*"The night you saw me,"* I continued. Tears were hot behind my eyes. *"In the rain. That was the day I told him I couldn’t do it anymore. That he was too much. That I wanted a breakup."*

I swallowed. *"He threw me out of the car. On the side of the road. In the rain. Because I said no."*

The tears fell then. I couldn’t stop them.

*"And then you came,"* I said. *"With the bike. And the jacket. And I thought... I thought maybe the world wasn’t completely awful."*

I tried to say something else but my throat closed. The tears wanted to fall out of my eyes faster than I could talk.

He shifted in his seat.

*"Hey,"* he said. *"Don’t. Don’t tell me yet if you’re not ready."*

I shook my head, wiping my face with the back of my hand. Ruining the makeup he liked.

*"There’s nothing else to tell,"* I said. My voice broke. *"It just feels like yesterday."*

He leaned forward. Eyes on mine. Serious.

*"I’m here with you now,"* he said. *"Nothing like that will happen. I will protect you. I promise."*

I looked at him. *"You said that,"* I whispered. *"But..."*

He cut me off.

*"I’m not him,"* he said. Firm. Gentle. *"You understand? I’m not him. I’ve never been him, and I’m going to keep my promise. I’ve always done that. For the people I care about."*

The words hit me right in the chest.

*"Okay,"* I whispered. *"I... I trust you."*

He smiled then. Small, crooked. Like he knew I needed air.

*"Good,"* he said. *"Because I was thinking... if you’re done trauma-dumping on me, can we talk about something important?"*

I blinked. *"What?"*

*"Like how stunning you look in that dress,"* he said, deadpan. *"And how unfair it is that I have to ride a bike home with you looking like that and not be able to touch you."*

I laughed. Wet, ugly, but real.

*"You’re ridiculous,"* I said.

*"Probably,"* he said. *"Come on. Let’s go."*

He paid. Walked me to the bike. The ride home was quiet, but not heavy. His hand found mine on his waist and squeezed.

At my door, he didn’t come in. He just stood there.

*"Don’t think about anything tonight,"* he said. *"I’m here for you. Okay?"*

I nodded.

*"I’m not him,"* he said one more time, like he needed me to hear it.

Then he watched me go inside. Waited until I closed the door.

And only then did I hear his bike start.