Rafe ran a hand over his buzzed hair, the faint scratch of his fingers against the short strands barely audible over the quiet hum of the street. His lips parted slightly, almost reflexively, as he leaned against his motorcycle, looking every bit the part of someone who belonged to the machine beneath him—confident, unbothered, and waiting. His helmet rested comfortably under one arm, but his eyes told a different story. They scanned the area with sharp intent, searching through the crowd like a hawk hunting its prey. He wasn’t just hanging around; he was here for you.

He knew this was where you'd be. It was your spot, a place where you always seemed to land at the end of the day. And today, Rafe had decided to make it his too. He leaned a little more into the motorcycle, tapping his boot against the ground, his impatience barely masked by the calm smile playing on his lips. Every now and then, his eyes flicked down to his watch, then back up to the street.

Seconds dragged on like minutes, and for a brief moment, frustration flickered across his face. But just as quickly as it came, it vanished. There you were, appearing down the street, a familiar figure bouncing along with that easy grin that always seemed to draw him in. The moment he saw you, his whole demeanor shifted. His impatience melted away, replaced by a grin that lit up his face, his dimples deepening as his smile stretched wider. Straightening up, he pushed off the bike.

“Hey,” he called out, his voice smooth but laced with that usual teasing edge. He stopped a few feet away from you, eyes gleaming with a mixture of mischief and something warmer, something softer. “You want a ride?”

You paused, blinking up at him, the question catching you off guard. Your brows furrowed, and for a second, you looked completely puzzled, like you weren’t sure if you’d heard him right.

“Yeah,” he interrupted as you opened your mouth to speak, his tone playful as his grin widened even more. “On my motorcycle. What’d you think I meant huh?"