AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Hey, Tara. Yeah, I’m sorry, I’m running late. I’ll be there in thirty . . . Yeah, thanks.” She hangs up and looks at me, hope flickering in her eyes. “Can you drop me off at Tart?”
“Sure thing.” I nod, grabbing my cut. “But what about your car?”
“I’ll get Tara to drop me off after work so I can pick it up. I’ll tell her I was too tipsy to drive last night and left it there,” she explains, slipping on her shoes.
“Smart,” I say, appreciating how she always thinks things through.
It’s part of why I’m drawn to her, beyond just the obvious chemistry.
Licking my lips, I look right into her eyes. “Look, this should be a one-off kinda thing.”
Jordyn forces a smile. “Yeah. After that clusterfuck of a relationship, I don’t need anything serious right now anyway.”
We hurry out of the room, the cold Montana morning hitting us as we step outside.
The cold air bites, waking us up fully.
My bike waits like a loyal dog, chrome gleaming under the pale sun.
I swing my leg over and fire it up, the engine’s roar echoing through the quiet streets.
“Hop on,” I shout over the noise.
Jordyn climbs on behind me, her arms wrapping around my waist.
It feels right, her holding onto me like this. Like we’re two pieces of a puzzle.
“Make sure you hold on tight,” I warn, though she already knows the drill. She’s lived and breathed this life, and Jordyn even has her own bike and rides.
We peel out, tires screeching against the asphalt.
The city blurs around us, a mix of gray and muted colors.
We ride through Billings, past rundown buildings and up-and-coming neighborhoods.
The wind whips through my hair, stinging my eyes. But I don’t mind.
This is where I belong—between the rush of speed and the promise of something more.
As we near Tart, I feel Jordyn’s grip tighten.
She leans closer, her breath warm against my neck.
“Thanks, Bama,” she murmurs, sincerity lacing her words.
I just nod, eyes on the road ahead.
We pull up to Tart, the neon sign flickering in the early light.
I cut the engine, and the silence hits me, deafening after the roar of the bike.
Jordyn slides off first, her boots clicking on the pavement as she lands.
She smooths down her hair and adjusts her jacket.
“Thanks for the ride,” she says, eyes meeting mine, a mix of gratitude and urgency. “Next time, we should have helmets.”
“Yeah, you’re probably right,” I reply, though the clock’s ticking in my head.
