Page 220 of Revv

I think that’s the part I finally understand now.

Andre gives one final signal from the wall, and I drop my visor. The world changes instantly, sound dulling around me while my own breathing gets louder inside the helmet.

My fingers curl around the clutch, the throttle answers beneath my hand, and the bike vibrates between my legs like it’s just as impatient as I am.

Across the barrier, Cece raises her hand. Two fingers touch her lips before she blows me a kiss.

Fuck me.

I catch it against my chest because apparently I’m dramatic now too, and the laugh that breaks across her face is the last thing I see before I force my attention forward.

The starting lights come on one after another, and everything inside me settles into place.

My heartbeat stays steady. My hands are ready. The bike is ready.

I’d like to say there’s no fear, but that would be bullshit.

There’s always fear.

Maybe that’s what makes any of this worth doing.

The lights go dark.

I launch.

The front goes light for half a second before the bike hooks and tears forward, the engine screaming as the entire grid explodes around me.

Everything becomes speed and instinct, but beneath the roar, beneath the adrenaline, beneath every stupid risk I’ve taken and everyone still waiting for me, one thing feels clearer than it ever has.

Life is fucking scary.

It’s supposed to be.

You can spend all of it waiting for the perfect opening, the safest choice, some guarantee that nothing is ever going to hurt, but that guarantee doesn’t exist. At some point, you have to trust the bike, trust yourself, trust the people who have proven they’ll ride beside you, then lean into the turn and fucking commit.

Because if you spend your whole life avoiding the crash, the heartbreak, and everything that scares you enough to actually matter, what the hell was the point?

I tuck lower behind the screen and open the throttle, the bike surging beneath me as everything ahead blurs into speed.

There are never guarantees. There’s no perfect opening, no completely safe way through, no version of life where you get to keep everything you love without risking something in return.

Sometimes, you only get one choice.

And that's to FULL SEND.

THE END

EPILOGUE

Oakley

Miami was supposed to be temporary.

Then again, I say that about almost everything.

Cities. Jobs. Apartments. Hair colors. Men.

Especially fucking men.