The city hums around you, neon lights smearing across the wet pavement as you step off the curb. Your heartbeat syncs with the distant bass thumping from a nearby bar, the pulse of something electric threading through the air. You shouldn’t be here. You know better.

But then you see him.

Rex is leaning against his bike, arms crossed, watching you with that sharp, knowing smirk. His foot taps against the asphalt, a subtle, restless energy coiled beneath his skin. Like he’s been waiting. Like he knew you’d come.

“You’re late,” he says.

You roll your eyes. “And yet, you didn’t leave.”

He exhales a short laugh, shaking his head. The streetlight above flickers, casting shadows over his face, highlighting the cut of his jaw, the glint in his eyes. There’s something about the way he looks at you—like he already knows how this ends, like he’s daring you to see it through anyway.

The song drifting from the bar behind you swells— “Before you run away from me…”

You tell yourself this is the last time. That you won’t get caught up in this again, won’t let the gravity between you pull you under. But the words feel hollow when your fingers twitch at your sides, aching to reach for him.

Rex tilts his head, spinning his helmet in his hands. “Well?” His voice is edged with impatience, but there’s something else beneath it. Something unspoken.