ONE Night On His Bike

caught

The rain was dripping off the brim of his helmet in slow, heavy drops.

He didn’t answer right away. He just looked at me, jaw tight, eyes shadowed, like he was deciding if I deserved the truth or if it would break me.

Then he killed the engine on his bike. The sound cut out so fast it left ringing in my ears, and all I could hear was rain hitting the pavement and the shaky breath I was trying to hide.

"Stalking?" His voice was low. Rough. That gravel voice from the first night outside the coffee shop.

He took one step closer, close enough that I could see the rain beading on his jacket. "No."

My heart did something stupid. It jumped, then sank.

He took his helmet off. And god. Up close it was worse. Dark hair, wet and sticking to his forehead. Eyes that looked like he’d seen too much and hadn’t slept enough to forget any of it.

"I'm not stalking you," he said quietly. "I'm making sure you get home safe."

"Why?" The word came out smaller than I wanted. Bare. Honest.

"Because last time I left someone stranded, she didn’t make it home."

He looked away then. Toward the dark street. Like saying it out loud hurt.

And just like that, rule #3 went out the window too.

"Get on," he said.

I crossed my arms. Water dripped down my sleeves and pooled at my feet. "No."

My voice shook but I forced it steady. "I can call a cab."

He didn’t argue. Didn’t try to convince me. He just put his helmet back on. _Click._

For a second I thought that was it. That he’d finally leave me alone in the rain.

Then he kick-started the bike.

But he didn’t ride away.

He started riding. _Beside me._

Slow. Painfully slow. Matching my walking pace like we were attached by some invisible string. Rain hit both of us. His headlight cut through the dark and lit up every puddle at my feet.

Every time I sped up, he sped up. Every time I stopped to check my phone for a cab that wasn’t coming, he stopped too. Engine idling. Waiting.

It was ridiculous. It was infuriating.

It was also the safest I’d felt in weeks, and I hated myself for it.

After two blocks I couldn’t take it anymore.

I stopped walking. Turned to face him in the rain, water running down my face.

"Are you serious right now?" I yelled over the rain.

Then quieter, but sharper, with everything I’d been holding in: *"Why do you care if I don't make it back?"*

The bike engine cut out.

He took his helmet off. Slow. Like he was giving himself time to find the words.

Rain ran down his face. He looked tired. Older than he probably was.

"Because," he said.

He took one step off the bike and came to stand in front of me. Close enough that I could smell rain and leather and something clean like soap.

"Because the last person I said that to was my sister."

And just like that, the air got knocked out of me. My chest went hollow.

I swallowed hard. *"I understand your pain,"* I said, my voice cracking. *"But I'm not your sister. Just... stop stalking me, okay?"*

I turned and started walking again. My shoes splashed.

For the first time tonight, the bike didn’t follow.

_Finally_, I thought. _He’s letting it go._

Then I heard it.

The low _row_ of a bike. Coming up fast behind me.

Before I could turn, an arm came around my waist. Strong. Certain.

He lifted me right off the ground and set me down on the back seat of his bike.

"Hey—"

"Hold on," was all he said.

And then the bike roared to life.

Rain in my face. His back solid in front of me.

We didn’t talk the whole ride.

Ten minutes later he was dropping me off at my apartment.

He killed the engine. Didn’t look at me.

"Inside," he said. "Now."

I climbed off, legs shaky. "You didn’t have to—"

"I know."

He was already pulling his helmet back on. "Goodnight."

And he was gone.

Leaving me standing in the rain, at my door, with my heart doing something really stupid.

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