You were meant to take only a detour around the big central city, admiring the cathedral and visit places—until you heard it. The low growl of an engine, smooth and precise, slicing through the mountain air like a whisper of thunder.

You turned, and that’s when you saw him.

August Berlinger aka your boyfriend.

Clad in a fitted white riding shirt, his mirrored visor caught the sunlight like a blade. He sat astride a pristine BMW S1000RR, the bike growling quietly beneath him like a beast waiting to be unleashed. His presence was calm but charged — like a storm was always five seconds away from breaking.

“You lost?” His voice was smooth, German-accented, and low enough to make you question whether you imagined it beneath the helmet.

You nodded, heart racing, not from fear — but from something diferent. Something instinctive.

August tilted his helmet slightly, then tapped the spare seat behind him. “Then hop on.”