Page 49 of Texting the Wrong Bikers

His eyes settle on me steadily. “Humor me.”

Something about the quiet certainty in his voice makes arguing suddenly feel exhausting.

***

Forty minutes later, I’m standing inside the gym trying very hard not to think about the fact that a biker is parked outside watching the building like I’m the freaking president in need of 24/7 surveillance.

Dani stretches beside me. We’ve spent more time talking, or rather with her grilling me about Shadow, than working out so far.

“Oh no,” Dani whispers. “The sentient compression shirt is here.”

I follow her gaze, spotting Tyler across the room, he’s near the free weights, wearing another skin-tight compression shirt that honestly looks painted onto his body. I snort loudly enough that Tyler glances over. He smiles, the kind of smile that only a week or so ago would have made me weak at the knees but does nothing for me now. Sure, he’s objectively attractive, tall, tan, with perfect white teeth. He’s the kind of polished handsome that looks engineered in a lab specifically to advertise gym memberships. Yet after meeting the bikers, suddenly something feels off. He’s too smooth, maybe? Too fake? Too pretty? Whatever it is, I no longer feel remotely attracted to him.

Dani notices. “He’s finally given you the ick, hasn’t he?”

I chuckle. “Yep, it seems so.”

“You know what his problem is?” she whispers exaggeratedly, her hand covering her mouth like we’re in school.

“What?”

“He probably owns more beauty products than the two of us combined,” she says with certainty. “And I don’t think I could date a guy with a longer beauty routine than me.”

I nearly choke laughing.

Tyler walks over before I can recover. “Hey, Sadie.” His eyes immediately flick to my neck and the fading hickeys just visible above my tank top collar. Something changes in his expression, something I can’t quite place. It’s subtle, but unpleasant. “You okay?” he asks.

The question sounds normal. The tone doesn’t.

“Fine,” I say lightly.

His brow furrows slightly, as if he were expecting a different answer. “Haven’t seen you around much.”

I shrug casually. “Busy week.”

“Yeah.” His eyes flick toward my neck again. “Looks like it.”

Discomfort crawls briefly through me. I don’t like the judgmental tone in his voice.

Dani suddenly appears beside me like an aggressively supportive bodyguard. “Morning, Ken.”

Tyler blinks, confused by the joke, which only makes him seem even more like a dumb jock. “It’s Tyler.”

I cough violently, trying not to laugh.

“My mistake,” Dani replies, smiling innocently. She saunters off, pretending to use the machine next to me.

Tyler smiles tightly. “Friend of yours?”

“Unfortunately,” I mutter.

Dani gasps theatrically.

Tyler looks back at me. “I was starting to think you lost my number.”

Oh God. Right. Tyler gave me his number. He has no idea that I tried to message him but accidentally sexted four bikers instead. Guilt twists awkwardly in my stomach.

“You never texted,” he says.