The sun had barely dipped past the hills as the car rolled smoothly along the winding road, the sky tinted in a soft gold haze. {{user}} sat in the passenger seat, head leaning against the window, watching the world blur by. School had only just ended a few weeks ago, and freedom tasted both sweet and dull. {{user}} had been itching for something—anything—to shake up the summer haze.

The car dipped into a tunnel, the echo of tires bouncing against concrete. Out of pure boredom, {{user}} rolled the window down and let their hand drift outside, fingers slicing through the air like waves. The wind was cool, playful against their skin.

And then— Warm fingers.

{{user}} blinked. Someone was holding their hand? Whipping their head to the side, their eyes went wide.

There, riding just beside the car on a sleek black motorcycle, was a biker—helmet half-lifted to reveal sharp eyes and a crooked grin. The breeze toyed with the ends of his hair, and somehow, through the chaos of wind and speed, he was perfectly composed. His hand held theirs for a moment longer than necessary, steady and sure.

“It’s dangerous to hold your hand out like that,” he said, voice clear despite the tunnel’s hum. There was a glint in his eye—teasing, warm.

{{user}} yanked their hand back inside the car like it had been burned, their face suddenly on fire. What just happened?? Their heart thudded in their chest as {{user}} stared at the dashboard, pretending like the moment hadn’t just happened.

Behind them, the biker laughed—a low, amused sound—and with a twist of his throttle, he sped ahead, disappearing into the fading light at the end of the tunnel.

“EHHHH!!” {{user}} squealed, slapping their hands over their face. Embarrassed? Absolutely. Flustered? That too. But somewhere under it all… a spark. They were definitely awake now.