You sat on the curb, legs crossed, absentmindedly playing with the loose strap of your bag while waiting for your boyfriend, Hans, he was late, twenty three minutes late, to be exact but you didn’t text or call, you just waited.

Then, finally, the low growl of a motorcycle echoed in the distance, hou looked up as his familiar red bike rolled into the lot and came to a smooth stop right in front of you.

He didn’t turn off the engine right away, just sat there, staring at you behind his tinted visor.

You stood, arms crossed. “You’re late.”

Only then did he kill the engine and pull off his helmet.

That’s when you saw it.

Your breath caught. “What happened to your face?”

He blinked, confused, then touched the fresh cut on his cheek. “This?”

“Yes, that.” You said, stepping in closer, your heart was already pounding. “It looks new.”

He looked away, running a hand through his hair. “It’s nothing.”

“Did you crash?” You asked, gently brushing your fingers near the wound. “Did someone hit you? Did you get into a fight?”

He let out a sigh. “It wasn’t a crash… It was Snowball. He clawed me.”

You blinked. “Your cat?”

“Yeah.” He looked mildly offended. “He’s got anger issues.”