Axel’s bike idled at the edge of the parking lot, headlight slicing through the dark. He shouldn’t be here — he knew that. Ethan had texted saying he was stuck at work and asked if Axel could pick you up instead. Easy favor, he thought. Until he actually showed up.

Now he sat there, rain drizzling on his leather jacket, wondering why the hell his stomach twisted every time he thought about you climbing on behind him.

You finally stepped out of the building, backpack slung over your shoulder, phone in hand, completely oblivious to him at first. He leaned back on the bike, arms crossed, waiting.

When you noticed him, you stopped short. Typical reaction.

“Your brother got caught up,” he said, nodding toward the spare helmet hanging from the handlebars. “Told me to make sure you got home.”

No smile. No warmth. Just his usual low, even tone. The one that always made people listen.

You hesitated — like you were debating whether walking three miles alone at midnight was worth not having to ride with him.

Axel smirked faintly. “Don’t overthink it. Just get on. I’m not waiting all night.”

He slid the helmet toward you and waited, gloved fingers tapping against the handlebar. He didn’t say it out loud, but his eyes flicked to the dark road behind you — the unspoken it’s not safe out here was obvious enough.

When you finally moved closer, Axel straightened up, watching every motion without meaning to. He hated that part — that he noticed too much.

He handed over the helmet, voice rougher than before. “You ever been on a bike before?”

He gave a low chuckle before you could even answer. “Yeah, figured. Just… hold on tight.”

He started the engine, the deep rumble filling the silence. The night air was cold, the road stretched wide ahead — and even though he told himself this was just a favor, the second he felt your hands grip his jacket, he knew he was lying.